One
On a Monday evening in Tulsa, Oklahoma, lightning zigzagged across the dark October sky while great sheets of gray rain battered a small black car. Crystal Barnett swung the car into the paved parking lot in front of a food shop. The kids' Halloween party was over and her nephews had been deposited at a movie with the Parkers and their boys. School was out Monday and Tuesday for teachers' in-service days, a perfect time for Halloween. Now the boys had a holiday and could spend the night with their friends.
After shutting off the engine, Crystal peered through the rain-streaked windshield at frosted glass windows through which a warm light was glowing. A red neon sign above the door proclaimed: "the cookery—School, Market, and Shop." Below, shimmering scarlet lines were reflected in the water on the wide concrete steps that led up to the door. Even though it was only twenty minutes after five, the downpour had brought darkness early.
Crystal picked up the peaked hat from the seat beside her, gauged the distance from the car to the shop, opened the door, and sprinted through the rain. A bell pinged as she rushed in, and she closed the door behind her. She shook out her long black skirt, smoothed the wrist-length sleeves and the black cape, and stomped her high-heeled boots to get the water off. Then, with a toss of scraggly blond hair, she glanced around the shop and inhaled deeply.
Delicious. She inhaled again and her stomach growled mildly with a hunger pang. Ceiling fans slowly circulated the enticing air, while amber hanging lamps gave the shop a warm luster. On the rough pine wall behind the counter red neon lettering read, "Deli and Market."
With gleaming copper pans and utensils suspended from the ceiling, baskets of bread arranged on the counters, packages of exotic food stacked on the shelves, the shop was as fascinating as an attic filled with old treasures. Crystal's full attention, however, was drawn straight ahead to the lighted cases of baked goods. Her mouth watered as she stared at appetizing chocolate doughnuts, golden apple fritters, sugar-sprinkled cookies, the whole array of tempting items. She crossed the room and knelt down to peer closely at the contents of the case. There were eclairs topped with thick dark sauce, squares of rich brown chocolate fudge, two big blue eyes . . .
Startled, she stared into a pair of eyes that gazed unwinkingly back at her. She was held immobile, breathless. Time itself ceased until a rumble of thunder rattled the windowpanes and broke the spell.
"Oh!" Crystal gasped, and stood up.
The blue eyes rose at the same time she did. Behind the counter a man unfolded and straightened to an impressive height. His broad cheekbones had freckles and smudges of flour. The baker's hat perched on his head couldn't contain blond strands of hair from escaping beneath the edges.
"Just fly in?" he asked in a rumbling bass voice that fanned a warmth through her.
"I drove," she answered breathlessly.
"I thought maybe you came on a broom."
"Oh, my witch's dress!" Her wits began to function. The man was laughing at her! she realized. "I've been to the boys' Halloween party. Now they're at a movie with some friends. I'm hungry and the goodies look so luscious."
"The goodies? How nice," he said with amusement. "I was just putting things away. Want something?"
"Oh, yes! I'll have a dozen chocolate eclairs, a dozen apple fritters, a dozen chocolate doughnuts, and two dozen sugar cookies."
"To eat here or to go?"
He remained as solemn as a post, but she could detect laughter in his voice. "To go." She glanced around and saw a row of small tables along one wall. They were covered with blue-and-white checkered cloths and there was a small vase of red paper poppies in the center of each table. Outside the rain continued to pelt the windows, but inside the room was cozy and filled with charm.
"When I've driven past here on my way to work," she said while he sacked up her order, "I've seen the sign in your window. I want to sign up for one of your cooking classes."
"There's a schedule posted on the bulletin board, and . . . here"—he handed her a sheet of paper—"you can have this one."
"Thanks." She paid him, then motioned to one of the tables. "I might eat something here until the rain lets up. What time do you close?"
"Not until you're through." He smiled and she felt compelled to smile in return.
She sat down, took her hat off, and pulled open a crisp white sack. She selected a doughnut and bit into it. "Mmmm, this is yummy."
"Thanks. Would you like coffee?"
"I spent my last nickel just now."
"It's on the house."
He came around the counter carrying two cups of steaming black coffee. He was big and brawny, with incredibly broad, muscular shoulders that tapered to a slender waist and hips. He wore a white T-shirt that molded his powerful chest and arms. He didn't spend all his time bending over an oven, Crystal thought. Not with that physique! A white apron covered him, but beneath it were faded jeans and tan western boots. And in spite of the hat and apron, he seemed out of place. She decided he might have taken a temporary job as cook. He looked as if he could have been a lumberjack or professional wrestler.
"Your boss won't mind if you give me coffee?" she asked.
"Nope," he said, smiling. He sat down across from her and removed the baker's hat, revealing a well-shaped head of tousled hair. "I'll join you. With the rain, you're the only customer in the past hour." He had a mellow voice that made her acutely aware of him. She knew she was staring and had to stop, but it was an effort to turn away. She felt drawn to him. Shaking her head as if to clear cobwebs out of her thoughts, she bit into her doughnut.
"This is so tasty!" she said. She turned the sack toward him. "Would you care for one?"
"Thanks, no." He sipped his coffee and watched her.
Between bites she looked down at the paper in her hand and read aloud: " 'Pasta Introduction: Learn how to make fresh pasta, homemade Ravioli, Salsa Verde, Tortellini, Pasta con Aglio, Cannelloni. Advanced Pasta . . .' Oh, my!" She chewed another bite of doughnut, then continued. " 'Basic French Cuisine. Chef Jacques Aubrey.' You're not the only cook?"
"Nope."
" 'Poulet aux Champignons,' " she read. " 'Chocolate Mousse, Chilled Vichyssoise, Petits Pois a la Francaise. Advanced French. Wok Meals I. Wok Meals II. Chicken Kiev.' " She looked up at him. "I need 'Basic Food.' "
He chuckled. "There ought to be something you can use."
"I can use everything here, and then some! I want to learn to cook, and then I want to get married."
He choked as he laughed. "That's frank."
She waved the remaining piece of doughnut at him. "Sometimes I think I need someone. But first, I have to learn to cook. My poor family! The boys are suffering."
His eyes focused more intently on her and she could see a gleam of curiosity surfacing. "Don't you have things a little turned around? Why didn't you learn to cook before the boys came into your life, not after?"
"I didn't know I'd have them."
He leaned back and appraised her, his gaze drifting down slowly, and she stopped eating. Heat followed his glance. What was so commanding about him? she wondered. She drew herself up and tried to convey a chilly aloofness.
"Where's the father?" he asked.
"Don't mention that man to me!" She closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them. "He's in Rio, probably lazing on a beach. He's a no-good rat!"
"How old are the boys?"
"Nine and five."
"Nine! With your witch's makeup, you look very young."
She reached for an eclair. "I feel one thousand years old. Maybe I should try to solve problems alone, but right now the idea of marriage appeals to me. I'd like to find a very dull man."
He was staring openly now, a smile hovering on his mouth. He had a nice mouth. Crystal thought. Lips with just enough fullness to be sensuous, kissable. Kissable? What was the matter with her!
"You're dressed as a witch," he said, "with green skin and a long black cape, and you say you want a dull man?"
"It's Halloween!"
"Sure. Isn't 'dull' what most women avoid? Or is it in reaction to your husband?"
"Oh, I'm not married."
"You are frank!"

"I suppose so. I want a dull, sturdy man to help me deal with the males in my life."
"How many males are in your life?" he asked in a choked voice.
She cocked her head and regarded him as openly as he was regarding her. He had a friendly face, a magnificent body, and blue eyes that would thaw the polar ice cap. His gaze lowered to her mouth and she stopped chewing. She forgot her worries, even, for an instant, the delectable eclair. She stopped breathing as a flutter raced across her skin.
"You're very easy to talk to," she whispered.
He reached out to tilt her chin higher. His rumbly voice descended to a rasp that made her tremble. "Big smoky-gray eyes, full pink lips," he said. "That much I'm sure about. Now, your green skin and this, er, hair?"
"It's a wig and makeup," she said, mesmerized by something invisible.
"Are you lonely?"
"Oh, my word, no! There are other reasons to get married besides loneliness."
"Oh, yeah," he said huskily, and she burned. His gaze lowered to her breasts and she felt them tighten, her nipples thrusting against the stiff fabric. Why was her body reacting to this stranger? she thought. To his glances? His lips widened, revealing white teeth and two dimples, and her heart found a new beat. Thunder rumbled outside again, and she relaxed back in her chair.
"I can't send the boys out for hamburgers three meals a day," she said as she sipped her coffee. "I wish I'd learned how to cook long ago."
"What have you learned how to do?" he drawled, sending more warmth through her than the hot coffee had.
"I sell wallpaper and paint," she answered hastily. "It's the old family store. That's my main job."
"Oh? And your other jobs? Do they involve the men in your life?" he asked warily.
"Photography is a hobby and second job," she said. He seemed to relax and she wondered what he'd thought she did on the side. "I like to photograph people's faces. There are so many fascinating faces." And he had one of the most compelling she had seen in a long time. The bone structure was well-formed, the eyes an electric blue, sexy, with thick lashes. His ears were large but not unbecoming. His broad cheekbones balanced the effect. When he grinned, she realized she was staring.
"You have an interesting face," she said, thankful her green makeup hid her blush.
He leaned forward and trailed his finger along her cheek. "So do you, little witch. Absolutely spellbinding!"
"It's Crystal. Crystal Barnett."
"I'm Pug Moffitt."
She grinned. "How do you do." The name fit and made her think of a wrestler again.
"Why do you need a husband?"
"It was just a thought I've had lately." Her grin faded and she added, "I'd like to come home and share things with someone, just someone adult, sensible, and male to talk to."
"You can find that in the complaint department at Sears without marrying him."
"You know what I mean. Look at me now, talking to you, a perfect stranger, unloading my problems on you. I have two close friends, but they're female, married, mothers, and busy. Six days out of seven I work at the paint store, some nights I work as a photographer, and I take care of my family. That doesn't leave much time for anything else. Lately, I've been thinking how nice it would be to have a man to talk to about raising the boys. Just to talk to him. Period. I'd like to get married, but I have to know how to cook before I do."
"People get married who don't know how to cook."
"No. I want the boys to grow up healthy, and right now we're all starving to death."
"And you want a dull—and wealthy—man," he said cynically.
"No, most of the wealthy men I've known haven't been sturdy and dull. The wealthy part isn't what's important. It's the dullness that matters."
"Don't you think you should give a little thought before you rush into marriage? Perhaps you should talk to the boys' father. Maybe he would make it legal."
"You thought . . . Oh, no! I have my sister's boys, my nephews. I'm not even—" She bit off the words.
"Holy smoke, don't stop! You're not even what?" His dimples winked at her and crinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes. He definitely had one of the most appealing faces she had ever seen.
"Stop imagining things!" she said admonishingly. "Lately, men don't find me that attractive."
"Maybe it's the green makeup."
She squinted at him. "It's my family."
He put his chin on his hand and leaned closer to study her. "Do you have a candidate in mind?"

"Unfortunately, no," she said, and they both smiled.
"I thought all women wanted an exciting man."
"No," she said vehemently. "I want a man who's a rock, who goes to work at eight and comes home at five and sits down and does nothing. I want a man who doesn't want to travel, to see the world. Who doesn't write poetry, who can't act, who has absolutely no hobbies, who forgets every anniversary, who doesn't know champagne from beer or roses from dandelions!" She focused on Pug and found him staring wide-eyed at her.
"You're going to miss a lot of fun!" he said. "That type of man is the last thing most women want."
"I'm not most women."
"So I noticed."
She closed the sacks, drained her coffee, and gathered up her purse.
"Well, I may have just what you want," he said easily. "I have a cooking class of men on Saturdays."
"You do?" She put her purse back on a chair.
"Yeah. Since it's football season, we meet on the Saturdays when there are no University of Oklahoma or Oklahoma State home football games. There may be a dull man in the class."
"No. To take a cooking class, a man would have to have a spark of imagination. That's not a man's usual area of expertise." She realized she had paid Pug a compliment of sorts as he smiled.
"Thanks," he said. "I'm glad you think I have a spark of imagination."
She blushed and was again glad the green makeup hid it. Why the exhilarating attraction to Pug Moffitt? she wondered. She never had felt this way instantly around a man. But there was no mistaking what she felt now. She opened a sack and offered him a sugar cookie. After he declined, she bit into it herself.
"It's nice you can eat like that and not gain weight," he said, taking another smoldering assessment of her that made her want to fling her hands across her breasts.
"It is and it isn't," she said. "I pay in other ways. I burn it off in nervous energy, and that's why I can't sleep at night."
"Maybe you don't have the right approach to bedtime," he said teasingly.
Another blush heated her. If he kept it up, she would have to start fanning herself. "What time on Saturday?" she asked quickly.
"Three in the afternoon."
"Perfect!"
"You missed the first lesson, but that won't hurt." He leaned back, locking his fingers behind his head, making his biceps bulge to an impressive size. Crystal tried not to stare as he continued. "It's gourmet cooking, but next Saturday's is easy. A specialty of the Southwest—chili."
"Yum. Sounds as if the Saturday class is what I want. I can't enroll in any of the schools in the area because the hours aren't right. They said if I'd wait until next semester, I could get a night class, but I can't wait that long."
"Have you tried opening a few cans? Anyone can cook."
"I know. I can do lots of things like change the gas filter in the car or upholster the sofa, but when I cook, I forget to watch the time. I can cook three things and everyone is sick of them. I can do roast beef, Swiss steak, and hot dogs without disaster. Besides, Gramps fixed the stove and it doesn't work." When Pug's eyebrows rose in a silent question, she said, "Well, he tried and thought he fixed the thermostat in the oven, but he didn't. I don't want to hurt his feelings and tell him—he's a little sensitive—so I try to guess the temperature."
"Your sister's boys . . . Gramps . . ." he said as he rose with an easy grace and brought a steaming carafe of coffee to the table to refill their cups. Before he sat down again he pulled off his apron, revealing tight jeans that fit low on his slender hips. He stretched his long legs out beside her and studied her with the same unnerving, steady watchfulness. "How many people are you planning on cooking for?"
"I have the boys and Gramps and Aunt Valenta, my father's sister." She leaned closer over the small table. "I've had it up to here with being the Rock of Gibraltar for my family."
"A rock for the family, yet you can't cook and you're dressed as a witch?"
"My older sister always did the cooking, but she got married and moved away."
"Why don't you walk out?"
"That's what Nan, my best friend, asks all the time, but I adore the boys. Nan says I'm too kindhearted." Crystal picked up another sugar cookie and waved it at Pug. "Could you walk out on two little boys whose mother had abandoned them?"
"Did she go to Rio too?" he asked solemnly.
"No! She didn't want them. She was going to leave them in a foster home and threatened to put them up for adoption. It would be terrible. They might be put in separate homes. One of them is too old for many couples to want. And besides, what would it do to them to know that no one in a whole big family would take them in?"
Something flickered in the depths of Pug's eyes. She knew she had said something to hurt or disturb him and she was sorry. She tilted her head. "You see, I couldn't just stand by and let her do that."
"No, you couldn't," he said quietly, and suddenly she was drawn to him. She sensed the atmosphere between them had changed.
"What I said bothered you, didn't it?" she asked, reaching out to place her hand over his. She wanted to erase the cold glint that had surfaced in his eyes. But the moment she touched him, sympathy fled as an invisible current flowed between them.
"You're perceptive, Crystal," he said huskily, and her pulse drummed like the rain. He slipped his hand over hers, holding it lightly. "Are they incorrigibles?" he asked. His thumb moved back and forth on her wrist, sending fizzy sparks up her arm. She glanced down at his big hand. His fingernails were clipped and scrubby clean from cooking. Golden hairs were sprinkled across the back of the hand and the knuckles were red. It appeared to be a very competent hand. She drew her thoughts back to his question.
"The boys? No, they're adorable."
"Why wouldn't anyone in the family take them? Why did your sister reject them?"
"Why didn't you answer my question?" she asked softly, and immediately wished she hadn't. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry."
"Don't apologize." He gave her a level look, as if debating whether to tell her something or not, then almost gruffly said, "I'm an orphan. I grew up in an orphanage and foster homes, so I feel sorry for your nephews. That's tough."
She tried to imagine him as a small boy and failed. He was too big, too male, with too much muscle, but there was no mistaking the flickering glimpse of old hurts, and she prayed the boys didn't grow up feeling that way. The cold prickle of fear that worried her whenever she thought about the boys' future made her shiver. She blanked her mind to it and tried to ask lightly, "Is that where you learned to cook?"
"I guess it got me started." His shoulders seemed to relax a little, and he grinned. "The gourmet part came later."
More of Crystal's attention was on his thumb moving lazily across her wrist than on what he'd said. She tried to extricate her hand, and his fingers tightened.
"Don't go," he said.
"I'm not. I just was going to move my hand."
"Don't," he said softly, flashing both dimples.
"All right." How could she resist?
"You sound breathless."
"I'm weak from hunger."
"After two doughnuts, an eclair, and two cookies?"
"Mmmm."
"I want to hear about your family."
She gazed into his blue eyes and forgot what she was going to say. Silence stretched between them. He arched an eyebrow and his attention lowered to her mouth, making her lips tingle. Her breathing grew short and she wanted to part her lips, to raise them to his.
"You didn't answer me," he said.
"I can't think when you do that."

"Do what?"
She removed his hand from hers, poured more coffee for both of them, and said, "Now I can think." Ignoring his grin, she went on, "Besides my nephews, I have two sisters, a brother, my mother and father, my grandfather, and Aunt Valenta, and they aren't dull."
"I believe you." His bemused expression changed to a smile.
"They're unpredictable, imaginative. They're flowers in the wind, rolling stones gathering no moss, wandering artists. I'm the rock. They all lean on me, and there are times when I'd like to know there is one other dependable person around."
"Poor little gray-eyed witch," he whispered, and leaned across the table to stroke her cheek. "What a big, terrible world!"
His tender voice undid her. She hadn't cried since their chow died when she was twenty years old, but suddenly her throat tightened. She didn't want to cry in front of him, though. She blinked, snatched up her sacks, plunked the tall, pointed witch's hat on her head, and started for the door. "I must go," she said over her shoulder. "I'll come back Saturday."
She reached for the knob, but a long, tanned muscular arm covered with golden hairs stretched out and held the door closed. She stopped and clung to the doorknob.
"Please, I should go," she whispered. She watched his other arm come around to turn the big sign on the door so "closed" was in the window and "open" hung inside. He slipped the bolt in place. It was silent in the shop except for the drumming rain. He kept his hands on the door, pinning her in. His breath was warm on the nape of her neck through the long strands of white-gold hair.
"Crystal, don't go," he said, his voice low. "Don't run away."
She couldn't talk. Her emotions were threatening to spill over and she couldn't understand what had happened to her iron control. His hands moved to her shoulders and he turned her around.
She couldn't face him because salty tears were stinging her eyes. "I'm sorry. I haven't cried in three years and I don't know why I am now! I guess no one's given me an ounce of sympathy and I just couldn't handle it when you did."
"Shhh, little witch, let go. Go ahead and cry."
"No, dammit, I won't!" She wiped the tears off her cheeks. "It's difficult sometimes. How can you walk out on your grandfather who has a heart of gold and is lonely and twice-widowed? It hasn't occurred to Gramps I might want to live somewhere else. He's not well and he shouldn't live alone. Aunt Valenta is helpless." She gulped and wiped more tears and stared at a tan throat, watching a blue vein throb steadily. She knew she was babbling, but it was so good to tell someone who was sympathetic, intelligent, and seemed sincerely interested.
"Gramps is lonesome. He waits for me to come home from work and talk to him. How can I toss him aside like an old pair of shoes I don't need around any longer?"
"What about Aunt Valenta? Can't she keep him company—or does she work too?"
"When she was twenty-seven Aunt Valenta's fiance ran away and she lost three jobs in a row. She became somewhat of a recluse. She talks to no one unless absolutely necessary. Most food makes her sick or she's allergic to it or doesn't like it. She's into yoga and her own methods of relaxation. She might as well be a post."
"Can she afford that lifestyle?"
"Yes, because for one thing, Dad and Valenta inherited some farmland that has oil leases, so Valenta takes care of herself. She won't take care of anyone else."
"And your sister?"
"Aurora wanted to go lead a free life, and the boys stood in her way. She knew I wouldn't let her give them up for adoption."
"No, of course you wouldn't," he murmured.
He was terribly close. His inviting mouth was so near. His hand slipped around her waist and every inch he grazed with it prickled with tantalizing sensations. She felt drawn to him, her breathing constricted. He lowered his head and leaned down.
His lips were warm on hers, and the promise hinted in their enticing shape was fulfilled beyond all imagination. He had very kissable lips, firm, velvety. He brushed her lips and his breath fanned over her mouth and jaw. Soft kisses, like summer winds, heated her, coaxing a vibrant response. A faint, spicy scent assailed her.
"Crystal," he whispered, raining fleeting kisses on her mouth and stirring wild tickles. She trembled and wanted more.
Finally his tongue tasted her lower lip in a honeyed contact. His mouth settled, fitted better, and opened hers. She whimpered once softly, the sound lost in her throat as Pug Moffitt became important to Crystal Barnett. He was warm, so solid, and she had felt buffeted by winds of chance. She tightened her arms to cling to him. His kiss deepened, erasing time and thought.
Finally she pulled back from him and gazed up into a hungry, dazed expression that caused her to quiver.
His broad chest expanded with a deep breath. His muscles flared and she wanted to reach up and place her hands on that marvelous chest. "Come back and sit down," he said coaxingly. "I didn't mean to make you cry. It's pouring buckets out."
She couldn't refuse him. He winked, took her arm, and led her back to the table. "I have lasagne in the refrigerator. I can put it in the oven and have it ready in no time if you're still so hungry."
"How scrumptious!" she said breathlessly, and he smiled.
"Drink some coffee while I put it on and then we'll discuss your cooking lessons."
Within minutes he returned and sat down across from her. He folded his arms over his chest again, drawing her attention to his muscles. It was impossible to forget his kiss, difficult to avoid reacting to merely sitting across from him, and amazing to think how easy he was to talk to.
"You're a good listener," she said.
"It's my big ears."
She laughed. "They add character to your face."
"Thanks. You just scored another ten points on the Pug Moffitt rating scale."
"How's that?"
"Because you didn't politely lie and say I don't have big ears or some such."
She smiled, feeling pleased and enjoying him.

His grin widened, and he asked, "Where's your sister Aurora?"
"She's with a dance troupe in California."
"She gave up her children to dance?" He sounded as if he didn't believe her.
"Yes, but really I suspect she knew I'd take them. Aurora wants to be in show business."
"Isn't she a little old to launch into a dance career?"
"No. She had Pierre when she was eighteen."
"Pierre?"
"I know." She wrinkled her nose and leaned across the table. "I don't think that name fits this little boy. He asked me to call him Pete, so I do. And we call Jedediah Jedy."
"That's good."
"You think so? See, that's why I'd like a man around. I have to make a lot of decisions about the boys. Aurora said the boys hinder her career and they're too much like their father.
"I don't usually tell people all of this," she said. "There's something about you ..." She paused. "I don't know why I'm different from the rest of my family. Well, Snow and I are alike."
"I hate to keep asking questions, but who's Snow?"
"My other sister. Aurora's the oldest, then Snow, then my brother, Dan. I'm the baby—in age, that is. Dan is short for Danube. Mother is poetic and likes exotic names."
"Where is Mother?"
"She ran away."
His brows arched and he stared at her intently.
"That's when I inherited Gramps. For four years I left my family and went to college. I put myself through school, and just when I was starting to search for a job and a career and a life of my own. Mother and Dad packed up and ran away. Gramps might as well be alone in the house. In good weather Valenta sits in the attic and meditates. Gramps is forgetful, and with his heart condition, I couldn't bear to abandon him."
"You belong to a bunch of coconuts!"
"See," she said calmly, "I told you it scared men away. That's why I need someone reliable and unimaginative. Deadly dull, or he won't put up with us."
"Do you know where your parents are?"
"Not exactly. We get postcards. They're traveling in the West as a magic act, El Grande Maravilloso. Mom is part of the act, Senorita Bonita, and Dad is El Grande Maravilloso."
Pug groaned and looked pained. "They wouldn't come home if you refused to take care of things?"
"Oh, goodness, no. I tried that. They firmly believe in doing your own thing, but you know, not everyone can do just as they please. My family is like a merry-go-round. It's great fun for a time, but you wouldn't want to live on one."
"What about the married sister? Couldn't she help with the boys?"
"Snow lives in New Jersey, has three-year-old twins, a two-year-old, and is expecting a baby."
"Enough said." He rubbed his chin and gazed at her thoughtfully. "You'll never get him, you know."
"The dull fellow?"
He nodded solemnly, then covered her hand with his, running his fingertips lightly across her knuckles, starting tingles again. "Not the way you kiss, little witch. Not in the next hundred years will you marry a dull fellow."
"Well, I intend to try!" She lifted her chin, trying to ignore the heated response to his fingers. "I'm not marrying the other kind."
He laughed softly. He had a charming laugh that invited her to smile in return. "Witch, you sound as if you're a thousand years old! I can't tell with the makeup."
She smiled. "And you don't need to know. Old enough."
"For what?" he teased.
"For whatever comes along," she answered with a momentary flirtatiousness.
"You don't say!"
"Down! Down!" she said, and they both laughed. Sobering, she added, "I need someone who won't be bothered by my family, who is the complete opposite of them and is so obtuse he doesn't notice them!"
"What a waste," he said, gazing at her in the intense, direct manner he had. "Except he won't stay obtuse after he kisses you."
"Hmpf!" She wriggled and tried to keep from grinning. "I adore the boys, but sometimes I don't know how to cope with them. They're physical—they wrestle and play ball and break windows and that sort of thing."
He grinned. "They do at that."
"I'll bet you played ball. Football. You have the shoulders for it."
"Do I, now?" he asked, and his grin widened. "I think the lasagne is ready. What would you like to drink? I have coffee and tea."
"I'd love hot tea. I'll help." She followed him past the case of baked goods and an open counter of pale yellow and white cheeses. Along the wall to her right were floor-to-ceiling freezers. Their glass doors were frosted, giving a blurred view of golden-brown loaves of bread, casseroles, cooked pheasant and chicken.
Two doors led from the deli part of the shop. In red neon over a door to her left were the words "the store" and straight ahead were the words "the kitchen." The big kitchen had gleaming equipment and a polished plank floor. Pug put water on for tea and opened the oven to check the lasagne. With all his movements, Crystal noticed his long, powerful body, the incredible breadth of his shoulders, the way his golden hair lay along the back of his neck.
What was it about him that drew her, she wondered, that made her stare and want to touch? And when she did, it was a current to her heart. Was it his marvelous, sexy body—or was it his sympathetic, understanding ear? He turned to look at her, and her breathing stopped.
He deliberately set the lasagne back in the oven, laid down the potholders, and crossed the kitchen to her. She had the absurd urge to run her hands across his chest. Her heart began pounding wildly as his arms circled her waist.
"Talk about merry-go-rounds!" she whispered. "I feel as if I'm on one now."
"Whatever the chemistry is between us, little witch, it's mutual. Don't tell me you don't feel it."
"I do feel something."
"You bet you do, down to your pointy-toed boots!"
"But I don't want to kiss."
"You don't say. Tell me again. I'm not sure I heard correctly," he said in a rumbly voice, and her pulse raced.
"I want cooking lessons," she said breathlessly. "I can't take them from you if things get sticky between us."
"I think things got hot-caramel-sticky between us when you walked in the door," he drawled, and his voice itself was a velvet-thick warmth pouring over her. "I was straightening the goodies case and glanced through the glass to see a witch come in out of the rain. And then when I looked into big gray eyes that are the color of the river at dawn ..."
She was on fire. She trembled and felt as if she were melting inch by inch. As he leaned forward, a timer pinged behind him.
"Don't burn the lasagne," she whispered. "There's the timer."
"I can see where I rank," he murmured. "A notch below lasagne."
"I'm practical," she replied dazedly.
With a smile that sparkled, he moved away. For the next few minutes they worked together, and although the kitchen was large and roomy, they seemed to brush against each other constantly, little light brushes that were as delicious as his fluffy eclairs.
Finally they sat down to eat. She bit into the thick, delectable lasagne and closed her eyes. "Oh, it's heavenly!"
"Thank you," he said dryly. "I'd have preferred that reaction to my kisses."
A tickle of excitement ran down her spine. Batting her lashes at him teasingly, she drawled in a sultry voice, "Oh, dahling, your kisses are more yummy than your lasagne!"
His dimples appeared and he touched the tip of her nose. Raising her voice to a normal tone, she said, "You really can cook. Have you cooked in any restaurants around here?"
"Thank you, and no, I haven't."
"Where did you learn to cook?"
"Growing up, I had to be self-sufficient. I like to cook, so later, I really got into it. Now I have my shop."
"This is yours?"
"Yep."
"It's fascinating."
"Thank you. I take it there's no man in your life right now."
"No, but there's going to be!"
He laughed softly. "I'll agree with that."
She took another bite of the lasagne, closed her eyes, and chewed.
"What did you major in when you were in college?" he asked. "Photography?"
She sipped the aromatic tea. "Accounting. I wanted something solid that I could settle down and do. Aurora went one year to college and majored in dance. Snow majored in musicology, Dan took his drums and left for California to find a career."
"Were there college romances?"
She waved her hand back and forth, dismissing his question with a casual "Nothing permanent—and over long ago."
A knock sounded at the door.
"We're closed. Let them knock," Pug said.
"It might be someone stranded in the rain."

"The shop is up off the ground and there's an eave that overhangs the steps."
"They might have a flooded car and need help."
"I see what your friend meant about a kind heart. I wanted you to myself." With a sigh Pug rose and crossed the room to open the door.
The slender barrel of a pistol appeared and a gruff voice said, "Hands up! This is a robbery!"

Two
Crystal's heart lurched, then settled down when Pug backed into the room and a wet, bedraggled man followed, kicking the door shut behind him. Puddles of water dripped from the man's soggy jeans, and his eyes widened at the sight of Crystal.
"Geez, mister, if she's your date, you need help! Keep your hands high and get back. You, there ..."
Crystal plopped a bite of lasagne into her mouth. "Me?" she murmured, watching the man shiver and shake and clutch his gun with both hands. He didn't sound threatening. He sounded cold and miserable.
"Get up, sister. Put your hands up."
"Can you wait until I eat this lasagne? It's too good to leave. It's cheesy and hot." She took another bite. 26

"Dammit to hell! I'll shoot!"
"All right, all right." She stood reluctantly and put her hands up.
The man waved the gun. "Both of you, over by the wall."
"May I take the lasagne?"
"Hell no!"
She snatched up the sack of cookies and held them high.
"What's in the sack?"
"Sugar cookies," she answered.
"Somehow, I believe you. You're green, lady."
"It's hunger."
"Don't hunt for sympathy here. I ain't et today. Where's the money?"
"In the cash register," Pug said. "Wouldn't you like something hot to eat first? You look half-drowned."
"What's with you people? All you can talk about is food! I want money."
"The first thing you'll do with it is buy something hot to eat," Pug said. "Let me pour you some hot tea. You're shaking."
"This is a holdup, mister."
"You ought to let him get you some tea," Crystal said. "You can't imagine how delicious the food is here. That lasagne was bubbly hot, full of melt-in-your-mouth mozzarella cheese and sprinkled with Parmesan cheese, a touch of pungent garlic—"
"All right!" The man licked his lips. "Pour the tea, but no tricks."
Pug moved quietly toward the kitchen.
"Stay in my sight!" The stranger moved where he could watch both of them, but he kept the gun trained on Pug.

"You might as well have some lasagne while you're at it," Pug called back.
"Can I finish mine before it gets cold?" Crystal asked. "I won't do anything except eat."
"Go eat, lady. Beats hearing you talk."
Pug returned with a plate of lasagne and a cup of hot tea. The man waved the gun. "Put it down on the counter, get your hands up, and move back."
The man moved cautiously to the counter and jammed a fork full of food into his mouth.
"Isn't that the best thing you've ever eaten?" Crystal asked.
"Shut up." He squinted at Pug while he stuffed another bite into his mouth. "You cook, huh?"
"Yep."
"Look like a boxer. Been on the road?"
"Nope."
"Never can tell." He glanced at Crystal. "You're a good cook, but you got weird taste in dames, mister."
"She's nice."
"Thank you." Crystal smiled. That brought a smile to Pug's face, and for a moment she forgot the stranger.
"Geez!" he said, glancing back and forth at both of them. Crystal straightened and concentrated on the lasagne. Silence filled the room while Crystal and the thief ate. Outside the rain continued its patter.
"Why don't you let him sit down here with me?" Crystal asked. "He's been standing on his feet cooking all day."
"Don't push it, lady." He squinted at Pug as he gulped down another big bite. "Get me some more."
Crystal smiled. "He bakes the best eclairs in the U.S.A."

"Will you shut up about food!"
Pug returned with another plate of lasagne and watched while the man wolfed it down.
"You must be freezing," he said. "I have an old blanket back there. You can see it from here."
"You two are weird. Get the blanket. And no funny business."
Pug returned and handed the man the blanket. "This your first robbery?"
"Dammit, how'd you guess?"
"You seem like a decent sort. Need a job?"
"You gonna hire me?"
"Nope, but I know someone you can see—if you don't commit a crime first."
"Huh! You send me on a wild-goose chase and I end up with no money and no job! Stuff it."
"It's a restaurant. They need more help. I'll write the number down if you want."
"Beats going to prison," Crystal said.
"Shut up."
"She's right. Put off your first robbery a week and try to get help. Let me get a pen and paper."
"You two are drivin' me nuts!" He waved the gun at Pug. "Now, you, open the register."
Pug opened it and stepped back.
"Hands up." Cautiously the stranger went around the counter, watching them with swift glances. "Geez! Where's the rest of the money?"
"That's it. I went to the bank today."
"If that's all you make, you won't be in business long."
"So why don't you take this phone number and see about honest work? That's not worth going to jail. You can wait a few more days to rob someone."

"I'm getting out of here." He started toward the door. "Don't do anything until I've been gone ten minutes. Got that?"
"You forgot the money," Pug said.
The man backed up and shook his head. "I gotta get away from you two!"
"Wait a minute and let me give you that number." Pug snatched up pen and paper and wrote hastily, then held out the paper.
"Here, take my eclairs," Crystal said. "You can have them for breakfast."
"Geez!"
"This man might be able to give you work," Pug said.
"Throw it down on the floor," the man instructed.
Pug did as he said, and Crystal tossed the eclairs beside the notepaper.
"There," she said, "are the sweetest, lightest eclairs you ever will taste."
"Yeah. And you two are the nuttiest fruitcakes I've ever seen." He knelt and picked up the paper and sack, then stared at Pug for a long moment.
"Thanks, mister. Maybe. You did me a turn, I'll do you one." He glanced at Crystal, then whispered, "Find yourself another dame. She's a fright."
"Good luck," Pug said.
"Yeah. You two stay put." He turned and left, slamming the door behind him. Pug started for the door, but Crystal followed him and grabbed hold of his arm.
"Don't go. He might shoot you."
"I'm not. I want to lock the door. Poor guy, he seemed harmless enough."
After he had slipped the bolt into place and turned, she said, "I'm sorry I talked you into opening the door to him."
"You didn't know." He smiled at her. "We handled that rather well together."
"So we did." Warmth filled her, and she smiled in return. "No one hurt, the man was fed. I hate for anyone to go hungry."
"And I hate to see anyone down on their luck," he said with a gruff note in his voice, making her suspect he had seen some hard times himself.
She returned to the table and gathered up her things to go. All at once Pug was in front of her.
"Three o'clock next Saturday for my cooking class?" he said. He reached behind the counter and produced a paper and pen. "Put your name, address, and phone number there for the class."
She wrote it down, handed it to him, then realized what he had really asked. "You don't need that for class. You wanted my phone number!"
"I'm not sure whether you'll show up Saturday afternoon." He touched a tangled yellow curl on her shoulder.
"I don't think I'm ready for gourmet cooking."
"There's nothing to it."
"Said by the man who makes the best lasagne this side of Rome!" she said with a laugh.
"You have a nice laugh, Crystal." He lifted tangled strands of yellow hair. "I wonder what's beneath the makeup?"
"Just me."
"Ahh, the best kisser this side of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans," he drawled, and she blushed.
" 'Night, Pug."
" 'Night, little witch." She opened the door and paused. The street was a river, the curbs hidden. Water poured through the parking lot and lapped at the step in front of his store, swirling around her car. Suddenly Pug swung her into his arms. She slipped her arm around his neck as she protested, "Don't carry me. You'll get soaked."
"It's worth it. You're a feather." He smiled at her and she wanted to purr with satisfaction. He was big and brawny, warm in the cold rain, and it was perfect to be in his arms. She snuggled closer and inhaled an enticing scent like cinnamon and cloves. He sprinted to the car, placed her inside, and dashed back to the door. Soaked, he stood in the lighted doorway and waved.
She put the key in the ignition, turned it, and listened to a click. She tried again and again. Pug rushed back to the car and slipped in as she scooted out of the way.
He tried it a few times, then turned to her. "That's a very dead car. We have several choices now."
Her system went on hold while she waited to hear the choices. She was aware of his big frame folded into her small car. His knee pressed lightly against hers, his long arm stretched across the back of the seat, and his hand rested on her shoulder.
"You can come home with me," he said, his bass voice seeming to touch every quivering nerve. "Or I can drive you home."
"Or I can call a taxi."
"No. That isn't a choice."
And she knew from his tone of voice there was no point in arguing. "Will you take me home?"
"I was afraid you'd choose that one. I have a refrigerator full of goodies. You can eat to your heart's content."
"I'm tempted, but I have to decline." She was amazed how inviting it sounded. She'd had fun; she didn't want to tell him good-bye.
"Wait, I'll come around and get you."
He rushed around the car, opened her door, and scooped her up again. When he entered the shop, he kicked the door closed behind him and gazed down at her.
His voice lowered to a fuzzy rasp that tickled her senses. "This could get to be a habit. You're a nice armful."
"Pug ..." Locks of wet golden hair fell across his broad forehead. Beneath the thin wet shirt that clung to him, his body was warm. His expression was intent and commanding as he lowered her slowly. She slid against his hard length while he kept one arm around her, holding her close.
She experienced the same dizzying pull she had earlier. She exhaled softly as he leaned down to kiss her. It was more disturbing than before. His hot, sweet kisses built a fire in her and seemed so natural, filling the deepest hunger of all. Shaken, she stepped back and faced his smoldering blue eyes.
He stroked her throat lightly and whispered, "I have to see what's beneath the green makeup. I don't want to say good-bye. Come home with me for a while."
She tilted her head while she considered his invitation carefully. She was dazed, rushed, and she suspected down to her toes that Pug Moffitt was the same type as her family. Finally she shook her head. "Thank you, but I don't think I should."

"Then go out to dinner with me tomorrow night."
"Thank you, but I can't," she said, feeling both regret and relief. "I have three appointments for sittings. My photography."
"We can go later."
She thought about it. He seemed marvelous, exciting, yet she felt as if she were standing at the edge of a whirlwind. "I'll be at the cooking lesson. Let's see how it goes."
He toyed with a coarse strand of tangled yellow hair. "Crystal, I'm safe to date. I'm really a very dull fellow."
"Oh, no!" Her heart jumped.
"Oh, yes, I am. I go to work in the morning, come home in the evening, and just sit."
"I don't believe you."
"I'm incredibly dull."
"You're not. You can cook."
"One little flaw—you can ignore it." His eyes twinkled. "No one's Mr. Perfect." He stepped closer and she moved back a step.
"I can tell," she said. "You're the same type as my family. Maybe not as kooky, but you're not dull. You don't understand what it's like at home." He studied her from beneath lowered lids with a burning, steady gaze that took her breath away. With an effort she said, "One night we were playing a word game and Dad spelled out 'mountain' and Mom said she hadn't seen Mount Kilimanjaro and she had always wanted to. Dad said that was a shame. The next day we were on our way to Africa. I missed finishing ninth grade, seeing Snow graduate from high school, and I had to go to summer school to catch up. The trip was wonderful, but if they had waited just two weeks, I could have taken my tests, finished school, seen my sister graduate, and still had a nice trip." She moved back another step as he came closer.
"You have a point, but don't lump me with them."
"This time, when they left, I had to get the bills straightened out. The Internal Revenue men came and I found out Dad hasn't paid taxes in two years."
Pug frowned. "I'm not like that. I've paid my taxes."
"It's not just that," she said with a sigh. "Brownies and eclairs are wonderful, but for a steady diet, I'll take bread."
"I'm an eclair?"
"You know what I mean. Let's not rush things."
"I think you're mixing up dull with reliable."
"That's semantics. I long for calm."
"Crystal. . ."he said in a rumbly voice that rippled across her skin like a warm breeze.
"You're scaring me."
"Scaring you!"
"Yes. Your kisses are dynamite!" She bit her lip and blushed, realizing what she'd said. His eyelids drooped and a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth. He looked like a cat about to drink the cream. "Forget I said that!"
"Never for the rest of my life," he said huskily.
Her heart pounded violently. "Now, see here, Pug Moffitt, I don't have time to dillydally around dating someone exciting and imaginative and like my family. I really don't. If you lived with them three weeks, you'd understand."
"Is that an invitation?"
"No!" she answered with a laugh.
"I've only asked for a date, Crystal."

"Yes, and my mother merely mentioned that she hadn't seen Mount Kilimanjaro. I know what dates can lead to, and I really do know people like you. That imagination of yours is running full tilt right now."
"The more you argue, the more intrigued I am, the more determined I am to go out with you."
"Don't use reverse psychology on me!"
"I told you, I'm the dullest sort of fellow," he said solemnly, but his dimples deepened.
"You're not really."
"I can cook. Big deal. That isn't exciting. Ninety-nine percent of the people on earth can cook."
"They can't cook lasagne the way you can."
"Don't hold my lasagne against me. Everyone cooks."
"I can't."
"You're the rarity, little witch." He came a step closer and she backed up another two steps.
"Don't you kiss me again! I can't think when you do."
"A kiss won't change the world. Have a little fun, Crystal. It's Halloween." He moved closer and she backed into the display case.
"What's Halloween have to do with kisses?"
"It's a holiday. Take some time off from your worries. You're a witch and it's Halloween. Let's fly."
"Oh, no! Are you taking me home?"
"Sure. I said I would. Twenty?"
"Twenty what?"
"Years old. Are you twenty?"
"No, I'm not." She drew herself up.
"You're scared of me."
"Scared witless," she said, while a quiver of excitement coursed through her. "It's your kisses and your cooking and your dimples and your sympathetic understanding. They're spectacular! But I know what kind of person you are." She tilted her head to one side. He was standing with his big fingers splayed on his hips and it took a mighty effort to keep from walking into his arms.
His dimples were showing, but his eyes conveyed a hungry message that was heating her blood. "Crystal, you'll never marry a dull fellow."
"Oh, yes 1 will. Everyone thinks my family is so marvelous. I've been told how fascinating my life must be. Well, I'll tell you what—someone has to hold down the fort. Someone has to pay the bills on time, to fix the leaks, to tend to the nitty-gritty. I need a sturdy, reliable man around. I won't marry the other kind."
"Want to bet?"
"You'd bet on the man I marry?"
"Yeah."
"That's a tempting wager. Will you bake my wedding cake if you lose?"
He laughed softly. "Little witch with big gray eyes and green skin, I'll bake your wedding cake when you marry a very dull fellow."
"I'll take you up on that one!"
"And if you marry someone who isn't as dull as burnt toast, what do I get?"
Her pulse was drumming because he kept gazing at her as if he still intended to kiss her. "I don't know. I can paint or wallpaper your living room."
"Make it the bedroom," he said in his low, sexy voice, and her temperature rose another degree.
"Fine, that sounds simple enough."

"Done!" he said softly, and moved closer. She backed into a table and stopped.
"There's a hitch," she said. "I might find a dull fellow, but you'll say he's exciting."
"No, I think we both know what dull is. And what's exciting." He circled her waist with an arm, and it felt so good, but she placed a restraining hand on that arm.
"Please don't kiss me. I don't have much resistance to kisses like yours."
He smiled fleetingly. "That's good to hear." He leaned down and she couldn't resist raising her lips. He was everything she had just said, and more. His kisses were red-hot rapture. They sizzled down to her toes and she liked them far too much, they felt far too right. Perfect.
Suddenly he wrapped both arms around her, crushed her softness against his hard muscles, and bent over her, swinging her down so she had to cling to him while he really kissed her and drove all thoughts out of her mind. His tongue plunged over hers and a wave of brilliant colors danced across Crystal's closed eyes. A fire was ignited and burned in her loins, starting an ache of desire. An eternity later he swung her upright again.
"Want to come home with me?" he asked huskily. "I'll give you a cooking lesson."
Dazed, she stared at him. She knew he had said something and she tried to think what it was. "Saturday at three," she whispered.
He smiled and his dimples showed. "Come home with me now."
"Oh! Oh, goodness, no! See what your kisses do to me! You're not going to take me home after all?"

"I'd rather go to my place, but I don't go back on my word. Come on, little witch. Your house it is."
He led her through the kitchen and out the back. At the door he lifted her easily. She held the peaked hat on her head while he rushed to a bright blue Excalibur.
"What a fun car!" she exclaimed, surprised his gourmet store was successful enough that he could afford a luxury sports car.
"I'm trading it in tomorrow."
"You are? Why? It's marvelous!"
"I'm getting a standard car. Four-door, plain black. Ordinary."
"You aren't really trading it in," she said, suddenly realizing he was teasing.
"It's too flashy. It isn't dull." He pulled slowly away from the building, sending waves washing from the car. "I'll have to avoid the streets that are deep in water or we'll float away. Tell me your house number again."
She gave him the address. "In the far southeast part of town. Sure you don't mind driving me home?"
"I'm sure, but we may get stranded in water. My house is closer."
"You promised to go to my house."
He nodded and drove down the alley, turning into a street running with water. Slowly they moved along against the current. As he drove, Pug's features were highlighted by a red glow from the dash, burnishing his wide cheekbones, his strands of golden hair. It had been a strange, exciting evening, Crystal thought. Suddenly her whole life seemed uneventful until approximately half-past five p.m. on Halloween.

"What did you do before you had the Cookery?" she asked.
He shrugged. "A little of this and a little of that. I didn't go to college."
His answer didn't tell her anything. The car was expensive, the shop was filled with costly items, and her curiosity rose over what "a little of this and a little of that" had been.
They heard a siren growing closer, and within minutes flashing red lights swept over the car as a fire truck passed them.
"How could anyone have a fire in this rain?" Crystal asked, gazing at the shimmering rivulets that trailed across the windshield.
"Lightning probably." As if to emphasize his words, a flash streamed across the sky, crackling and illuminating the world with a silvery sheen.
She noticed Pug's strong hands holding the steering wheel and thought about his invitation to go home with him or out to dinner. If only . . .
She sighed. He had all the symptoms of a great imagination and a free-wheeling soul, and one more such person in her life she did not want.
She studied him again, trying to guess his age. Over thirty, she was sure, because of crinkles that fanned from the corners of his eyes, the creases that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. She knew he didn't understand her family, and she couldn't tell him what made her have nightmares and wake up crying out and wanting someone to cling to. She shivered and pushed the nagging thoughts aside.
"Hey, why the long face, little witch?"
"Just thinking."

"I told you tonight's magic—a holiday. No worries, no heavy thinking."
She smiled and he touched her cheek lightly, yet it was as if the lightning bolt had streaked into the car and zapped her, diffusing its electricity into her system.
"Turn right at the corner," she said, "then left at the next stop sign."
A siren wailed and within a minute another fire truck passed them. She gazed through the rain-streaked window. "I see a red glow in the sky. Something is burning. Look at the column of gray smoke." A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. "It's in the direction of my house."
He patted her knee. "I think you worry too much."
"If you knew my family, you wouldn't say that," she said softly, watching with growing apprehension as they approached the plume of smoke. Her fingers knotted while she thought about her grandfather and Aunt Valenta.
"Relax, Crystal, surely it isn't your house." Pug reached across the seat and took hold of her hand.
She loved his reassurance, her hand held securely in his, but it did little to change her feelings. She knew Gramps, and Pug Moffitt didn't. She watched warily as another fire truck passed them.
"Gramps dozes, and when he does, he sleeps soundly. And he smokes a pipe. Aunt Valenta will be meditating. I just know it's my house."
"You don't know yet!" They turned the last corner and passed the last house before hers. Fire trucks were parked ahead, lights flashing, firemen running back and forth, neighbors standing in dark clusters. Flames leapt into the rainy sky from the garage on one side of the house. Water from fire hoses shot over the fire in long white arcs.
"It's my house," Crystal said, knotting her fists. "I hope Gramps and Aunt Valenta are all right."
"Damnation! I'm sorry." Pug pressed the gas pedal. The car sped through the rain and stopped behind a fire truck. Crystal was out as quickly as Pug. Flames sizzled in the rain, and beneath the hissing sprays of water great coils of smoke rolled upward. Even as she sprinted across the puddled yard, the flames disappeared. As she raced toward the firemen, she saw her grandfather.
"Gramps!" she called.
A man turned. He held a rain slicker over his shoulders and a wide-brimmed straw hat sat squarely on his head. He peered through his bifocals as Pug and Crystal approached.
"Gramps, are you all right?"
"Now, Crystal, I'm sorry this happened."
"Where's Aunt Valenta?"
"She's safe. She's here somewhere."
"Are you hurt?"
"No, honey. I didn't think about the garage floor flooding."
Her head spun with relief that he and Valenta were safe. She felt a pressure on her arm and Pug asked, "Where's your camera equipment?"
She pointed, thinking about her camera that she had saved for months to purchase. "In the opposite end of the house. Gramps, this is Pug Moffitt. Pug, this is my grandfather, Mr. Barnett."
"How do you do, sir."
"Not so well at the moment. I'm glad the boys aren't here. It started in the garage, then went into the kitchen, but I think the rest of the house will be saved."
"What happened?"
Her grandfather shifted his feet and Crystal's relief became tinged with resignation.
"You know that big box of calcium hypochlorite I stored in the garage?" he said. "When the floor flooded, the box became soggy. Our hot water heater is out there, and the next thing I knew was poof!"
She rubbed her hand across her forehead and felt Pug's strong arm go around her shoulders. "Gramps, the garage blew up?"
"Sure did. Higher'n a kite. Knocked me right out of my chair. Got a little conversation out of Valenta over that! Crystal, don't worry. I'll build it back."
She couldn't answer. She nodded and stared through the rain at the house.
"Unusual house," Pug said.
"Built a lot of it myself," Gramps answered, and pulled the rain cape tighter across his shoulders.
Crystal studied the familiar house and realized how Pug saw it. It had been a single-story dwelling in the country originally. Gradually the town had built around it, but her family had retained an acre of land. Facing south, the house had to the west a connecting garage, a kitchen, and a dining room. Gramps had built on to the east, adding rooms to and above the original bedrooms and the living room. Lightning flashed and Crystal's gaze swept the darkened ruins, the rooms that jutted out at odd angles with dormers and cupolas and Victorian gingerbread. She sighed, envisioning for one brief second what she dreamed about often—a nice, plain apartment.

The fire was coming under control, but the kitchen was a cinder, the garage gone.
"Has anyone called the insurance company?" she asked.
"Do we have to?" Gramps said, scratching his chin.
"Yes, we still have a policy. It comes up for renewal soon. I'll go next door and phone. I better call Betty Parker and ask her to tell the boys so they won't go into shock tomorrow or hear about the fire from someone else and think it's worse." She turned. "Pug, I'll be right back."
"I'll go with you." He took her arm, but a woman's shrill voice stopped them.
"Mr. Barnett!"
"Oh, no!" Crystal said. "Here comes Gertie Mankens. She lives across the street and hates everything we do."
"Crystal," Gramps said, "I don't want to talk to her."
"Don't you run off, Mr. Barnett!" A small woman draped in an oversized raincoat and high galoshes marched up to them. The umbrella in her hand bobbed with each step. "I knew you'd do it! Someday you're going to burn down the whole neighborhood. My poor little Fifi's nerves are in tatters!"
"Let's go," Crystal whispered to Pug. She raised her voice. " 'Evening, Mrs. Mankens."
"Not a good one, thanks to your grandfather! You don't have to tell me—I know he set the house on fire! Mr. Barnett, don't you run away! I'm taking Fifi to Dr. Perlstein tomorrow and if my precious baby's nerves aren't all right, you get the bill!"
"Let's go while she's after Gramps," Crystal said.
Clusters of neighbors murmured their sympathy and offered help as Crystal walked across the yard. Pug leaned down to say, "I'm glad the rest of the neighbors aren't hostile."
"It's just Mrs. Mankens. She has a little poodle, Fifi, and Fifi doesn't like anyone. And Fifi likes Gramps the least of all. We used to have a chow that terrified Fifi."
"Which house is hers?"
"The two-story Victorian right across the street. She fenced the front yard because of us."
At the neighbor's house, she called the boys, the insurance agent, and canceled her three photography appointments for the next night. Finally she and Pug returned to Gramps.
"Bill Smalley, our agent, said he'll be here any minute," Crystal said. "The insurance company might not pay this time, Gramps."
When Pug raised his brows questioningly, she added, "This isn't the first fire."
"I'm beginning to understand you, witch." He placed his arm around her shoulders again. It was comforting until he pulled her close and ruined the effect. She fitted nicely beneath his arm and against his chest. Their hips touched, their legs touched. Comfort was transformed to a demanding awareness of every inch of her body in contact with Pug Moffitt's. Behind them came the sound of a motor and then doors slamming. Crystal turned around.
"Oh, no!" she gasped.

Three
At the curb, two men were climbing out of a van from the television station. One paused, looking things over. His gaze came to rest on Crystal and he approached her.
" 'Evening folks," he said. "I'm Tom Wentworth from Channel Eleven news. You folks live here?"
"We do," Crystal answered.
"Oh, boy, did you have a Halloween party!"
"No, this isn't a party."
"Lady, you're perfect for a Halloween story. Would you stand a little closer to the house?"
"Oh, please, if you don't mind ..."
"Look," Pug said, "their house is on fire. Don't intrude." 46

"A witch in front of a burning house on Halloween night," Tom Wentworth said. "I'm sorry about the fire, but that's too perfect to miss. I just want a picture."
"Forget it," Pug said.
"You can take pictures of the house," Crystal said wearily, "but I don't feel like posing."
"It'll only take a second."
Pug moved between Crystal and Tom Wentworth and took hold of the man's arm. "The lady has enough to worry about. She doesn't feel like pictures," he said as he walked the newsman back to the van. In seconds Pug returned, while the men from Channel Eleven climbed into their van and left.
"Thank you," Crystal said with relief.
Pug put his arm around her again. "My dullness drove him away."
She smiled and looked around. "Gramps, I better find Aunt Valenta."
"She's in the mimosa tree on the west side of the house."
"Want to meet my aunt?" Crystal asked Pug.
"Of course. It isn't every Halloween I get to meet a witch's aunt in a mimosa tree in the rain."
"I can guess she's in the tree to avoid the firemen and the crowd."
They walked around the house and approached a bare-limbed mimosa. A tall, slender woman in a flowing cape was sitting on a lower limb. She held an umbrella over her and stared straight ahead. Her long black hair was tightly braided around her head. Dark brows emphasized large black eyes in a pale, thin face.

"That's your aunt?" Pug asked in surprise. "Your father's sister?"
"Younger sister. Valenta is forty-two years old."
"She doesn't look it."
"I wouldn't either if I didn't have a care in the world for half my life."
He squeezed her and laughed. "You're perfect."
"Gee, thanks. Green skin and all." She raised her voice. "Aunt Valenta."
Black eyes focused on Crystal.
"This is Valenta Barnett. Aunt Valenta, I'd like you to meet Pug Moffitt."
"How do you do," Pug said.
"Sorry about the fire," Aunt Valenta said.
"I think we can get our things out of the house soon," Crystal said.
Valenta nodded.
"We'll wait with Gramps." One more nod, then Crystal and Pug turned away.
"You were right," Pug said. "She's not too keen on conversation."
"She said more just now than I've heard her say this past month."
"Seems as if she could be a help to you if she tried."
"That isn't the way she looks at it. She's Gramps's daughter, and he lets her do as she pleases."
"If you walked out, she wouldn't come out of meditation to talk to Gramps?"
"Absolutely not! There have been a few times when I've been away. She won't change. She's sort of frail— mostly from not eating right."
"Well, she could cook for him—or doesn't she do that either?"
"Valenta can't bear ninety percent of the food put before her, much less cook it. She hasn't touched beef in years."
"I get the picture."
"Sometimes she hears voices."
"What kind of voices? Like Joan of Arc?"
Crystal shrugged. "I don't know because Gramps and the boys and I don't hear them. Gramps thinks she hears Gertie Mankens talking to Fifi. I suspect Pete might be up to a little mischief."
"Does she converse with these voices?"
"She doesn't talk about it much and I've given Pete a lecture—and that might end the 'voices.' 'Course, Gramps goes around the house talking to himself, so maybe she hears him. Who knows?"
They reached Gramps at the same time a fireman did.
"We have everything under control now, Mr. Barnett," the fireman said.
"This is my granddaughter Crystal Barnett," Gramps said, "and this is Pug Moffitt. Folks, this is Chief Holcomb."
"Sorry we had to meet under these circumstances," Chief Holcomb said. "We'll keep working to make sure nothing's smoldering. You can come in and get your things, but you'll have to stay elsewhere tonight. The whole house was filled with smoke and you'll have to have it cleaned. Under the circumstances, you're lucky it wasn't worse. Calcium hypochlorite shouldn't be stored that way."
While they walked with him to the house, he added, "With the flooding in town, so many people have had to leave their homes. The motels are probably full, but the Red Cross is using the fairgrounds as a place for people to stay tonight."

"Thanks," Crystal said.
"We'll look at the damage in the kitchen, but I'd rather you didn't go into the room. What's left of the ceiling is waterlogged and may collapse at any moment." Chief Holcomb paused, then asked, "Ah, who built this house?"
"The original five rooms belonged to my daddy," Gramps answered. "Added the other rooms myself."
"Did you? I haven't ever seen a house like it. Watch your step, now. Here are flashlights." He handed one to Pug and one to Gramps.
A dark shape emerged from the shadows and Gramps smiled. "Here's my daughter, Valenta Barnett. Valenta, this is Chief Holcomb."
" 'Evening, Miss Barnett. Sorry about the house."
There was a second of silence and then the chief led them inside. The acrid smell of smoke assailed them as they entered the open front door. The interior was dark and Chief Holcomb switched on his powerful flashlight, illuminating the smoke-blackened interior. The sound of dripping water could be heard from the front hall. Little puddles of water dotted the floor, then became a pool as they reached the kitchen.
"Oh, no!" Crystal bit her lip as she surveyed the ruins. Insulation and wiring hung from the ceiling, rain poured in over the cinders and ashes, and water dripped steadily from the wet batting above. Pug put his arm around her again and this time it was comforting.
"Sorry," Chief Holcomb said.
"Thanks for all you did," Crystal said. She coughed at the same time Gramps did.
"You can get the soot cleaned in the rest of the house. You'll find everything shut off from the smoke will be okay."
"That's good to hear," Crystal said.
"If your closet doors were closed, your clothing should be fine. Now you folks better get your things and go. Isn't good to breathe this."
Crystal didn't need urging. The smoky air was making her eyes sting and her throat feel tight.
"I'll go with you, Mr. Barnett," Pug offered. "Maybe I can help carry something."
"Nope, young man. You go with Crystal. I'll manage."
They threaded their way back down the hall, and Pug and Crystal separated from Gramps and Valenta when Crystal stopped at the room she used for a photography studio. The lights she used for portraits were blackened, but her camera was safely in a case inside a metal cabinet.
"Thank goodness, everything looks all right or retrievable," she said. "The lights should clean up. I'll take the camera with me."
"Here, I'll carry it," Pug said, taking it from her.
"I'm in the corner bedroom," she said as they climbed the stairs to an upper hall and turned left. "Gramps built this part of the house."
"Must be quite a carpenter."
"You'll see. Duck your head." The hall narrowed and the ceiling lowered to a small passageway, with walls too close for them to walk side by side.
"You go first and carry the light," Pug said as he stooped to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. "I think I spoke too soon."
"Gramps miscalculates a little."
"I hope you can stand up straight in your room."

"Oh, I can. That's why I have the corner room. The boys have the little rooms."
"Little rooms?"
"Gramps got the ceiling too low."
"Doesn't he know what he did?"
"Sure he knows. He has to stoop too. For the last ten years it's been on his fix-it list."
"Now I see why you'd like a man with no hobbies." As they entered a room, he straightened.
"You're taking it better than some of the men I've known. They can't wait to get away."
"Not me. I can't wait to see what's beneath the green skin and blond wig."
Her heart skipped, but she tried to keep her voice level. "I'm not very different. Just plain skin and brown hair." The flashlight highlighted Pug's bone structure, casting blue shadows on his cheeks and throat, and the dark room seemed to close in on them, drawing her closer to Pug. "I'm surprised you're not in shock over Gramps and the house," she said breathlessly.
"Takes more than that to shock me, because I'm so dull."
With an effort she said, "I'll get a few things if you'll hold the light for me." She handed the flashlight to him, brushing her fingers against his. He played the beam over the sooty room. "Where do you want the light?"
Gazing at her blackened room, Crystal suddenly felt as she had in his shop. Despair rose within her and she couldn't shake it off. "This night has been one disaster after another."
"Oh, no, it hasn't!"
"You know it has. My car won't run, you were almost robbed, Gramps blew up the garage and kitchen. The house is ruined."
"Crystal." Pug's firm voice cut through her words and she stopped. "This night has been glorious. I'm sorry your house burned. Your car can be fixed. It wasn't a robbery, and no one was hurt. That's what's important. The rest of the evening has been great."
"Great?"
"Because we met." He placed his hand on her throat, and she felt her breathing change as if he had thrown a switch. "Have you ever been kissed in this room, Crystal?" His voice was husky.
"No," she whispered.
His arm slipped around her and he pulled her to him for another kiss that helped lift her spirits beyond measure. As she moved away, she touched his jaw.
"Thanks for taking my mind off this."
"Glad to know my kiss outranks a charred house."
"It outranks charred houses, heavenly lasagne, and gooey eclairs," she said dreamily. His kisses were the best in her life, he was sensitive, and he hadn't gone into shock over her family. Noticing the gleam in his eyes, she said, "Hold the light on the closet, please. I can't take much more of this smell."
"Sure."
As she selected clothing from the closet, he asked, "Crystal, I don't mean to pry, but why did your grandfather have calcium hypochlorite on hand? That's an incendiary. It's as explosive as hell."
"It is? I didn't know. He bought it for the swimming pool he intended to install for the boys. It's used to chlorinate the water." Her spirits took a downward turn. "There goes the insurance." She selected a shirt and jeans. "After the last fire I was afraid they'd cancel on us."
"The last fire?"
"He rewired the garage. We couldn't collect that time because a licensed electrician is supposed to do it. The fire before that one, we collected the insurance. Gramps was scrambling eggs and caught the skillet on fire, and it spread."
"Hasn't it dawned on him to be a little more careful?"
"I caught the kitchen on fire once," she said sadly.
"You did? I thought you were the solid Rock of Gibraltar for the family."
"I am—ninety-eight percent of the time. I had grilled cheese sandwiches in the toaster-broiler and forgot them, and we had a little smoke damage. It wasn't bad enough to turn in a claim. But the other fires before that were Gramps's fault."
Pug rubbed his hand across his head. "I think we'll change the subject. Can I hold something for you?"
"Yes. Here." She handed him two pairs of jeans and two shirts, a pair of tennis shoes and a short yellow cotton nightie. He laid them over his arm and straightened the nightie.
Suddenly she noticed the way he was looking at it and then at her, as if imagining her in it. She compressed her lips and reached into the closet for her blue seersucker robe. She placed it over the gown firmly.
He grinned. "Cute nightgown."
"You have a busy mind."
"I can't wait to see beneath the green makeup."
She opened a drawer and pulled out filmy underwear, glanced at him, and stuffed it into her purse.

"I'll be glad to hold that too. It won't be too heavy."
"Funnyman."
"No, just dull."
She opened another drawer to select makeup articles. Behind her, he said, "Crystal, is it my imagination, or does this house tilt?"
"It's my room and it's not your imagination. If you dropped a marble at that wall"—she pointed to her right—"it would roll to that wall." She pointed to the left.
"Gramps again."
"Right."
"I can't wait to tour the entire place."
"The only men I've known who accept Gramps and the rest of my family without batting an eye—the way you're doing right now—are men who are just as creative, imaginative, and oddball. I was right in my first judgment of you," she said solemnly, and felt very sad.
"Oddball! You're jumping to conclusions too hastily. Give me a chance to prove how boring I can be."
"You're laughing at me because you think I'm silly, but look at tonight. He blew up the garage."
Still holding her clothes, Pug crossed the room and put his arms around her. It made the flashlight angle down at the floor behind her, throwing them into a dusky interior.
"Crystal," he said, "you've had a bad day. I suspect you have a sense of humor that might've been overtaxed."
"See, Gramps did this, but now I have to deal with the insurance company. I'll have to find a place for us to stay. I'm the one who will have to take care of the problems. As much as I love them, I'm getting frazzled over my family."
"It's just a little thick at the moment. Chin up, little witch."
Her throat tightened and tears stung her eyes. "Dammit, you're going to make me cry again. It's not much to you because you don't have to live with it twenty-four hours a day all of your life!"
"No." He pulled out a clean handkerchief and wiped a tear off her cheek. "It's a little wacky, but the whole world is full of varying degrees of wackiness. I'm not falling apart in anger or shock or horror, because no one was hurt. Crystal, I've never had parents or anyone. I like your grandfather."
She stared at him. His voice was deep and gruff and honest. And sounded terribly vulnerable. Suddenly she felt awful. She thought about Pug Moffitt having no one, no family. All her life she had been surrounded by family, albeit a strange one. It would be dreadful to be completely alone. Tears really came then.
"Oh, Pug, I'm so sorry!" she sobbed.
"Hey! Don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all those things. I'm sorry you don't have a family. And I really do love mine. I love Gramps."
He bent down Jo peer at her. "I know you love them or you wouldn't have made sacrifices to take care of your nephews and your grandfather. Don't cry!"
"I'll try not to," she sobbed, and hiccuped.
"Oh, dammit to hell, I didn't mean to make you cry."
"You didn't. I shouldn't have said those things to you. It's terrible you don't have a family."

He hugged her. "Shh, Crystal. I'm so used to it, I don't think about it much."
"I haven't cried since I was twenty, and now tonight I've cried twice!"
"Aha! You're twenty-three years old!"
"How'd you guess?"
"Earlier you told me you hadn't cried in three years."
"My big mouth."
"There's nothing wrong with twenty-three."
"I'll tell you what's wrong. Little by little we're getting to know each other better, and you're the type of man who worries me. You know Gramps, my home, my age, my job. I know your job, your car, your pouffy kisses."
"My what?"
"Pouffy. That's my word for sensational. You're just too interesting for me."
"If it were anyone else, I'd think you're kidding. A dinner date won't hurt."
"We're strangers. I don't know you."
"What do you want to know?"
"Have you been married?"
Even in the dusky room, she could see his frown. She held her breath, waiting.
"I was," he said gruffly. "We were both twenty-four. She was in public relations, and we worked together. We thought we had the world by the tail. We bought land. We intended to build a big house and fill it with kids. She wanted kids as much as I did." His words came faster, as if he were in pain. "Our jobs were great. Jena got pregnant and we were ecstatic. We made such plans. Only thing was, her white blood cells didn't know about all our plans. They went their own way. She looked so damned healthy until just before the end."
"Oh, Pug, how terrible!" Her heart was aching as if wrung by an unseen hand.
He gazed down at a vein in her throat, rubbing his fingers over it. "She died when she was in the third month of pregnancy, and I lost the only family I've ever had."
"Pug, I'm sorry, so sorry." The hurt, angry expression on his face made her want to do anything to erase it. She put her arms around him and squeezed tightly, pressing his big body to her softness. He buried his face against her neck and stood still, holding her for a few moments. In a muffled voice he said, "You're a good listener too, Crystal."
"It's my big ears."
He laughed softly, his breath playing over her throat and shoulder as he straightened.
"Oh, dear, your shirt has green makeup smudged on it. And so do your chin and neck. Oh, my word!"
"I don't mind."
"Well, I do! That's embarrassing."
'That I hugged you? It isn't embarrassing, it's great!"
"Hmpf. I have my things. Let's get Gramps and get out of here. Try to wipe the green off your shirt. You can surely get it off your neck and cheek. Here." She shook out his handkerchief and rubbed his cheek. Suddenly she became aware of how close he was, how warm his skin was, and how steadily he was watching her.
"Oh, just stay green. Let's go."
He chuckled and followed her out of the room. Downstairs in a hall closet she picked up a satchel and dropped her things into it. They found her grandfather outside with a sack full of his things. Valenta stood beside him, her voluminous cape wrapped in folds around her slender form like bat wings.
Pug took the sack from Gramps and said, "Why don't you folks come stay at my place tonight?"
"Why, thank you," Gramps said.
Valenta shuddered. "I'll go to a friend's, thank you. I'll return when the house is finished, Crystal. I'll get in touch." She nodded at the men and hurried across the yard where a taxi was waiting.
Gramps turned around. "Thanks for your offer to stay. We'd be happy—"
"Excuse me, Gramps, but we'll go to the fairgrounds. I don't want to put Pug out."
"You won't," Pug said.
"I know we won't, because we'll go to the fairgrounds."
"Here comes Bill Smalley," Gramps said, and the next fifteen minutes were taken up in conversation with the man about insurance. Then they walked to Pug's long blue Excalibur.
Gramps ran his hand over a fender. "Man alive, look at this, Crystal! It's a humdinger! This is your car?"
"Yes, sir."
"My, oh my! Fenders and running boards."
"It's fun."
"Hoo, hoo, I can't wait to ride in it." He climbed into the back seat and Crystal sat down beside Pug. She put the sacks of doughnuts and cookies inside the satchel and settled back against the seat. During the ride to the fairgrounds, Gramps was full of questions about the car. Pug answered as he drove carefully along flooded streets to a long exhibitors' building. They stepped inside a spacious metal building with a high ceiling and concrete floor. It was filled with adults and children gathered in clusters, some sleeping on cots, others seated in folding chairs. There was a constant noise, the rain drumming on the metal, babies crying, people talking. Pug handed the sack of Gramps's clothing to him. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Barnett."
"Thanks, son. I hope we'll be seeing more of you."
"You will, sir."
"I'll find us a spot, Crystal," Gramps said, and left them. Pug put his hand on Crystal's shoulder in what should have been a casual touch, but wasn't.
"I wish you'd stay at my place," he said. "There's room."
"Thank you. This is best."
"Come to dinner tomorrow night. You can bring your grandfather. It'll be better than eating here."
She patted his arm. "I'm sure it will be, but thank you, no."
He squinted at her and leaned closer, and she hoped he had no idea what he was doing to her heart rate.
"You mean it, don't you? You won't go out with me."
"I know what's best, what I need."
"Crystal, little green witch, I know what 7 need. We've had too much fun tonight to part. I intend to get to know you better. I don't give up easily."
Her heart skipped and fluttered and jumped, but she kept her features impassive. "I can't take another—"

"Shh." He touched her lips briefly with his, making them tingle. "I'm not exciting. I'm predictable, ordinary, simple, homey, and dull."
She smiled, but it was fleeting. "Good-bye, Pug. Thank you for the lasagne, the help you gave me."
"You see. I was a help to you tonight."
"Yes"—she paused as a family with two crying babies passed them—"you were, and I appreciate it."
"I'll call you soon."
"We don't have a phone right now. Gramps again."
He took her hand and held it in his big one. "What about cooking lessons?"
"Maybe. I don't know. That's playing with fire."
He laughed. "Not in my kitchen!"
"I meant to be near you."
His blue eyes changed and his chest expanded as he inhaled deeply. "Crystal, you say things like that and then calmly say good-bye!"
"It's true. You're exciting, your kisses are dynamite—more than dynamite. Your cooking is pouffy. You're helpful and you're pleasant."
"Gee whiz, I just sprouted wings and a halo."
Two women passing glanced at them, causing Crystal to lower her voice. "But I can't take another person in my life who is like my family. And since there is a definite attraction between us—I know you feel it..."
"Oh, darlin', do I ever!" His husky voice strummed over her senses with a warm velvety stroke.
"That's why we should—"
"Don't say it." He winked. "Let's see what develops. I'll see you tomorrow, Crystal." And he was gone.
She watched him walk jauntily away, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans.

"Nice young man," Gramps said softly beside her, and she jumped. "Why didn't we go home with him?"
"We're better off here."
A little boy came up and stared at her. "Hi," he said.
"Hi. Gramps, I don't know Pug Moffitt that well."
"Looked to me like you knew him, Crystal. He seemed mighty nice and helpful."
"Well, we're here now and he's gone."
"Are you really a witch?" the boy asked.
She knelt down. "I feel like one."
"She's a good witch," Gramps said. "A sweet little Halloween witch."
"Where's your black cat?" the boy said. "You're not a real witch if you don't have a black cat and a broom. I'll bet you're not really a witch!"
"Frankie!" A voice cut into the conversation.
"Here I am," he called, and trotted away between cots and lawn chairs and people.
"This way, Crystal," Gramps said, and took her arm. Within half an hour Crystal and Gramps had two cots, their things stashed beneath them. Crystal had helped a young mother get two little girls ready for bed, then held a sleeping baby for another while the mother fed a toddler. Gramps lay stretched out, a blanket over him, his big wide-brimmed hat on his face while he snored softly. She didn't think she could get a wink of sleep. She sat on the side of the cot and gazed at the people around her while babies cried and mothers tried to calm them. Suddenly two men stepped through the doorway into the big room, and Crystal stiffened.

Four
Tom Wentworth's gaze swept over the crowd and came to rest on Crystal. She drew a sharp breath and he smiled. He then said something to the cameraman with him and the two looked at her. She wished she had done the same as her grandfather—crawled beneath a blanket and covered her face.
There was no hope for it now. She stood up, walked around the cot, and sat down with her back to the television crew, but she could imagine how much privacy she would get. She glanced at the women standing patiently in line for the ladies' room. No escape there. She waited, listening to the talk behind her. In minutes she heard Tom Wentworth interviewing people, asking brief questions of first one flood victim, then another. Finally he approached her as the second man stood a few yards away, lights blinding her as he took her picture.
Tom Wentworth thrust a microphone in front of her. "Ahh, I couldn't believe my eyes when I walked in. A Halloween witch! Has this been an unforgettable night?"
"Yes."
He straightened and faced the camera. "Folks, I've met our Halloween witch before. Tragedy struck earlier when her home caught on fire and burned." He turned to Crystal. "Was anything saved?"
"Yes. Most of the house, as a matter of fact."
"Well, good. Do you have a hat around here?"
She pulled it out from under the cot and placed it on her head while the camera focused on her.
"There you have it, folks. Halloween night—a night to remember. Floods, fires, witches—a real Halloween."
The light winked off and she put away her hat.
"Thanks for letting me ask you a few questions," Wentworth said.
"You're welcome."
"Your bodyguard boyfriend gone?"
"He's just a friend. He's gone."
"Well, thanks."
"Sure."
She watched them take the camera equipment and leave. Regretfully she saw the line was still standing in front of the ladies' room. She wanted to wash off the green makeup and change into her jeans.
She stretched out on the cot, felt uncomfortable, and sat up on the opposite side of the bed to face the door again.

_
People continued to arrive, some soaked to the skin, some weeping, some appearing dazed, as if they had just lost their homes.
Thunder boomed and Crystal wondered how much longer it would continue to rain. In the last Tulsa flood, twelve inches of rain had fallen in a few hours' time. She speculated if this Halloween would break that record. She thought of Pug Moffitt, then firmly tried to shut him out of mind. She squeezed her eyes closed, willing the mental image of golden hair, freckles, broad shoulders, big strong hands to go. She raised her lashes and the full image of Pug Moffitt in brown windbreaker, jeans, tan boots, and tousled yellow hair was before her in the doorway.
She blinked, sure that he was a figment of her imagination. He crossed the room in long, purposeful strides, and it wasn't her imagination.
"I came the minute I saw you on television," he said.
"He got his story after all," she said.
"I'd like to punch him out."
"He was nice, really. It was harmless."
"Oh, yeah. You looked as if you didn't have a friend on earth." He scooped up her things. "Come on. We're going to my home."
"No!"
"Don't subject your grandfather to a cot. Think what it'll do to his bones."
From beside her, Gramps said, "He's right, Crystal. My knees hurt."
She clamped her lips together, turning to pick up her purse. As she straightened, she saw Gramps wink at Pug Moffitt.
"Now, Gramps, I saw that wink!"

"It was a muscle twitch, Crystal."
"Do your knees really ache?"
"Yes, my knees hurt. And my back and my neck."
"All right, come on." She glanced at Pug and he grinned.
"A demerit for you," she said. "You take matters into your own hands."
"Thought you were hunting for a man who'll be a help, whom you can lean on occasionally."
"Lean, not get picked up and carried away!"
He chuckled. "Besides, someone else may need your cot before the night is over. It's still raining. I'm parked in front of the door."
He held Crystal's arm and led her to a jeep. She squeezed into the back, because she didn't think Gramps could manage it. He sat in the front beside Pug.
"You changed cars," she said loudly over the hiss of rain.
"This is better in a flood."
Lightning crackled and streaked the sky, illuminating the water rushing along the street, black and muddy, carrying leaves and twigs.
"How'd you two meet?" Gramps asked.
"Crystal came into my store to buy doughnuts and see about cooking lessons."
"Cooking lessons!" Gramps turned around to smile at Crystal. "Where are the doughnuts, Crystal?"
"Right here." She pulled a sack out of the satchel and passed it to Gramps. He offered them each one, then took a bite.
"My, oh my!" he said. "Did you bake this?"
"Yep."

Gramps squinted at him. "Right good cook. Where did you get all the muscles?"
"Gramps!"
Pug laughed. "That's all right, Crystal. I've had other jobs, worked outside. I swim."
"Mighty good doughnuts. I'll have another. You give cooking lessons?"
Crystal's spirits began to sink.
"Yep."
Gramps leaned close to Pug. "My granddaughter's a fine young lady, but she can't cook worth a damn."
"I heard that, Gramps."
"Well, Crystal, you've said so yourself."
"I'll teach her to be a whiz at it," Pug said, and she heard the laughter in his voice. She clamped her lips together and glared at the back of his head.
Gramps leaned close to Pug again to whisper loudly, "If you would, there are three people who would be eternally grateful to you. Two little people and one big one. Valenta's not into food."
"Gramps!"
"Crystal, don't get hot under the collar. You can't cook and you know it."
"Will you kindly stop whispering about it?"
Gramps raised his voice. "All right, you can't cook worth a tinker's damn! How's that?"
She clamped her jaw together again, her anger growing when she noticed Pug Moffitt's shoulders shaking with laughter.
"Mr. Barnett, what's your favorite dish?" Pug asked.
"Hmmm. After the last few months, I'd settle for anything edible."
"For heaven's sake!" Crystal muttered.

"Now, Crystal, it's the truth. 'Course, I can't cook any better than she can, and I'll be the first to admit it."
Crystal stared at the dark sky and wondered how much farther it was to Pug's house. She tried to imagine what it would be like and pictured a sprawling ranch house on a neat lawn. She gazed at his broad back and thought about his marriage. Maybe all the bad times he'd had as a child and young man had made him sensitive and a good listener. His big ears were outlined, the golden hair blowing slightly in the wind as they drove along.
And the farther he drove, the deeper the water swirling around the jeep became. With a shock, she saw the glimmering lights of downtown Tulsa in the distance. They were headed out of town. They were going to the river!
"Where do you live?" she asked.
"Not far now," he answered casually.
"In a few minutes we'll be in the Arkansas River. The nearest bridge is a mile away."
"You'll see, Crystal."
"Haven't seen a rain like this in all my years in Tulsa," Gramps said. "Crystal, want a doughnut?"
"No thanks. I have a few sugar cookies too."
"Let me taste one. You have a bakery?"
"No, a gourmet food store," Pug said.
"Gourmet food," Gramps pronounced as if he had discovered heaven on earth. " 'Course I'll gladly settle for your teaching Crystal just plain old cooking. Toast, scrambled eggs, most anything. I do like fried chicken."
"I'll remember that."
Crystal barely heard the words. Water was threatening to flood the jeep, and nothing lay ahead but trees and more water, the Arkansas River, and an oil refinery on the other side. The man was crazy! And then she saw a dark shadow, the bulk of something looming through the trees.
"Where do you live, Pug?"
"Well, I live on a houseboat," he said sadly.
"A houseboat!" Gramps whooped. "Man alive! I've always wanted to live on a houseboat!"
Crystal sank back in disgust. Pug Moffitt was thoroughly like her family.
"This is as close as I can drive," he said, and turned the jeep into a metal shed, coming to a halt beside the Excalibur. "We better get across the dock while we can. Usually the houseboat is several feet below the dock because of low water, but not now, so careful where you step."
Pug took Gramps's things and held his arm as they splashed along a dock with rising water lapping over the edges. At the end floated a large white-and-brown ketch.
"Will you look at that. Crystal! Whooie, heaven!"
"That's no houseboat. It's a yacht!"
"Same thing, because I live here," Pug said casually.
"Wait until the boys see this!" Gramps said.
"Gramps, we're here just for the night."
"Oh, they'll have to see this. You don't mind if my great-grandsons come out tomorrow, do you?"
"For Pete's sake, Gramps!" Crystal snapped.
"Yep, for Pete and Jedy," Gramps said. "Do you mind?"
" 'Course not," Pug said. "The way it's raining, you'll be here tomorrow night too."

Crystal frowned as Pug turned to wink at her. Smiling broadly, he helped Gramps onto the houseboat, then turned to help Crystal.
"A houseboat," she said pointedly.
"It's not all that unusual."
"Oh, sure. Just as ordinary as a pink Perisan cat!"
He grinned and squeezed her shoulder. "You're cute, little witch." Crystal blushed.
Gramps was surveying the ketch through his bifocals. "Zowie, ain't this a peach of a place to live! What's her name?"
"Jena." Pug spoke his wife's name softly. Again Crystal felt a little twisting ache for him, but it vanished in Gramps's enthusiasm.
"This is the life! Always dreamed of a boat! Can I see the engine?"
"Sure, come along and we'll tour."
"Gramps, it's late and Pug may be tired."
"Never too tired," Pug said agreeably.
"I want to call the boys and tell them where we are," Crystal said. "I'll catch up." After she had talked to her nephews, she followed Gramps and Pug as they explored every nook and cranny: the cockpit; the dinette and the galley, fully equipped with shiny stainless-steel sink, stove, and refrigerator; the large forward stateroom; one roomy cabin; and the salon. And all the time Gramps oohed and aahed. "Isn't this something! I've always wanted a houseboat. Just pull up anchor and sail into the sunset when it suits you."
"It's quiet and pretty on the river," Pug said.
"This looks like it could handle a long cruise. You ever take it out to sea?"
"On occasion," Pug said, avoiding Crystal's eyes. He waved his hand. "Mr. Barnett, you take that cabin. Crystal, you take the stateroom, and I'll sleep here."
"I don't want you to move out of your cabin," she said.
"I don't mind."
"While you two discuss it, I'll get ready for bed. I'm worn out," Gramps said. He held out his hand. "Son, thanks. I think you're the answer to my prayer."
"You're welcome, sir," Pug said while Crystal stared at Gramps.
He shrugged. "Saved me from that cot," he said, but she had the feeling Gramps hadn't been thinking of the fairgrounds in his prayer.
" 'Night, Gramps," she said, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
After Gramps had gone, there was a moment of silence except for the sound of rain drumming on the deck. Thunder rumbled in a long, growling noise, then slowly died.
"Now, let's settle something," Crystal said.
Pug grinned. "Yes, ma'am!"
"You're as arrogant as hell. I don't think Gramps really minded the cot."
"He said he did. Don't blame that on me."
"Well, I don't want to put you out of your bed."
"Oh, darlin'!" he said, and started toward her with open arms.
"Dammit, you know what I mean!" She held up her hand against his chest to stop him. "And keep your distance so I can think."
His grin widened. "Now," she said firmly, "I'll sleep in here and you sleep in your own bed."
"Wouldn't think of it. I want you in my bed," he drawled, and even though he was teasing, sparks danced down her spine.
"Now, listen here. Pug—"
"This, little witch, is where I'm sleeping. You can take your pick."
She tightened her lips. She heard Gramps come out of the head, and he appeared in the doorway.
"I'd like a glass of water."
"Sure," Pug said, and headed for the galley. Crystal went into her cabin and began to unpack her things. And clearly heard her grandfather.
"Son, I have high hopes for you. Crystal's a fine gal, but she just sure as hell can't cook."
"I'll teach her how. She seems bright enough."
Crystal wanted to grind her teeth. She glared at the door. Pug Moffitt hadn't lowered his voice and she could imagine the devilish twinkle in his eyes. He knew she could hear their conversation. She flung off the witch's costume, hurrying to get beneath a shower and drown out their talk.
"I'll tell you what," Gramps went on. "You teach that gal to cook and I'll pay you a bonus! A real big bonus."
"That won't be necessary."
"She's a little stubborn sometimes. Digs her heels in."
"Is that so?"
Crystal clenched her fists.
"Yep. Don't let it worry you. 'Course, you seemed to hold your own tonight." He laughed. "Damned glad you rescued me from that cot! And a houseboat! You're a man after my own heart!"
The last words sank into Crystal's brain like a foot-high flashing red neon sign of danger. She groaned softly. She didn't like the way Gramps had said that!
She stepped beneath the shower and turned on the hot water, relishing the steamy heat. Finally she had her waist-length dark brown hair blown dry and was dressed in the short yellow nightie.
She stepped into the dimly lit stateroom, closed the door, and turned to see Pug straighten from getting something out of a chest.
"Oh!" she said. "I didn't see you before."
"I knocked, but you were showering. I needed a few things." He set down a blanket and pillow, and the sound of the pounding rain seemed to close them into a warm intimacy. His eyes worked their spellbinding magic, holding her immobile. His thorough appraisal drifted languidly over her shining brown hair, her face, down over the short gown, lingering on her breasts, which tightened in a heated reaction.
"Little witch, you're gorgeous," he said huskily.
"Pug, please?" she whispered, and held her clothes between them as if they were a shield.
He crossed the room and picked up a handful of long, silken strands. "Your hair's prettier than the wig."
"Thanks!"
He smiled, then sobered. He wrapped his fingers in the hair and tugged gently, pulling her toward him.
It seemed the most natural thing on earth to have his arms slip around her waist, to feel as if she had just come to life, to tremble with a need for his kiss. Crystal raised her lips to meet his, tangling her fingers in his thick golden hair while he kissed away every thought in her mind.
He took the clothes from her and dropped them, then tightened his arms around her, crushing her as if to make her part of him. And pressed against his solid bulk, she felt complete.
She ran her hands across his strong shoulders and firm biceps. He shifted slightly and his hand brushed across the quivering peak of her breast, making her gasp. He tugged loose the ribbon at the neck of her gown, then his fingers slipped beneath the gown to caress her bare flesh. She was caught in a tidal wave, a rushing, surging wave that carried her into a sea of need.
She moaned softly, wanting to touch Pug, to explore his golden body. She longed to give warmth to the cold places in his heart, yet wisdom whispered for her to be cautious. She pulled back slightly. "We shouldn't rush."
"I didn't intend this any more than you, but, darlin', it's grand," he whispered in a throaty rasp.
His words were another caress that sent a charging current into her veins. "It seems so right, while at the same time, I know you're the type I should avoid."
He gazed at her with a burning longing. "No, you'll see, little witch. This is right and good—for both of us."
Her heart lurched as she silently agreed, and moved reluctantly out of his arms.
A twinkle appeared in his eyes. "If you can't sleep, just give me a call."
"Sure," she answered breathlessly.
He waved his hand toward the bed. "I changed the sheets. Here's an alarm. What time do you have to be at the paint store?"
"I open at nine-thirty."
"Where's the store?" He reached out to stroke her long hair, and she had to concentrate on his question.
"On South Harvard, a little over eight blocks from the Skelly bypass."
"You're not far from the Cookery. It'll take us about twenty-five minutes from here. Add a little time for getting through flooded streets if this rain doesn't stop. 'Night, Crystal," he drawled in a husky voice that made her inhale deeply.
" 'Night, Pug. Thanks for rescuing us from the fairgrounds."
"Anytime, darlin'. Anytime." One more languorous appraisal raked slowly down over her aching breasts, her long, slender legs. His gaze lifted, and along with passion, his expression was filled with joy. The drumming of her heart drowned out all other sounds.
" 'Night, Crystal." He closed the door behind him.
Only then did Crystal realize she was trembling from her desire for Pug. In only a few hours, he had taken a place in her life. Was there a time when she hadn't known him? It seemed impossibly long ago. What would they be to each other? she wondered. Lovers? Best friends? Heartaches? She didn't want to try to find an answer. Not yet.
Dazed, she walked around the cabin. Pug had an odd assortment of items. Bolted to the walls were framed posters of circus scenes, one of a tiger, yellow eyes unwinking. Another enlarged picture was of his ketch, white sails unfurled against a cerulean sky and blue sea. A bright red satin heart-shaped pillow with "Pug" in yellow stitching was thrown on the bed. She noticed a photograph on a shelf and picked it up. It was a younger, slimmer Pug with the same golden hair and inviting smile. Beside him was a petite woman with curly hair the same wheat color as Pug's. She was smiling up at him. As Crystal looked at the photograph, sympathy pulled at her. Was that why he had a houseboat and hadn't settled into a house since the loss of his wife?
She replaced the pictures carefully, climbed into bed, and turned off the light, aware to the tiniest inch of flesh that she was in Pug Moffitt's bed. It was impossible to keep visions from dancing in her head—his rangy, golden body stretched out, his come-hither blue eyes, his enticing full lips.
She remembered his kisses and tingled. He was easy to be with, marvelous to kiss. With a groan she rolled over and pulled the pillow on top of her head.
"Good-bye, sturdy, dull man," she whispered. After Pug Moffitt's kisses, his humor, she didn't think she could be interested in a dull fellow!
Wind whistled around the boat and there was a steady rise and fall of the craft that hadn't been noticeable when she arrived. Through the window she saw a streak of lightning. Snuggling beneath the covers, she squeezed her eyes closed and fell asleep thinking about blue eyes that held an unmistakable look of joy. Darkness enveloped her, taking her down into slumber, into blackness, oblivion. And then the dream came.
She reached out and tried to grasp two small hands, pale ivory hands that slipped away into a swirling gray fog and were lost. The nightmare was so real that she woke herself with a cry torn from her throat. She sat up, disoriented, bathed in sweat and shivering as she blinked and stared at the dusky cabin.
The wind was still howling and the bed was rocking, making her tremble violently. A light rap sounded on the door and she gasped, turning toward it, feeling stark terror close her throat. The door opened a crack and a slice of yellow light spilled into the room as a face appeared. "Crystal, are you all right?" Pug asked.

Five
"I had a nightmare," she whispered, her breathing rapid as she clutched the sheet tightly to her chin, squeezing the cool cotton in her fists.
"You're trembling," Pug said, and entered the cabin. A shaft of light from the hall glinted on his yellow hair, splashed over his shoulders, and softly illuminated the cabin enough for her to see his bare chest and jeans. He was solid and substantial and helped restore her sense of reality.
She closed her eyes. "I'm all right. It was a nightmare. It's a relief to wake up."
"You have these often?"
She couldn't talk about it or tell him that it was the  same nightmare each time, the same terrible, cold fear. "No," she said, "just occasionally. I'm all right."
"Yeah, sure. Just like your garage is all right." He sat down on the bed and put his arms around her, gently drawing her to him. "Little witch," he whispered, "you're safe here. No nightmares."
Her throat felt tight and she shivered once, then put her arms around him and held him.
"What did you dream?"
"I don't want to think about it." His hand stroked her soft hair, down over the back of her head, down between her shoulder blades. And while he held her against his heart and touched her hair, she found herself wanting desperately to talk to him. She felt the vibration in his chest as his voice rumbled softly.
"For a year after Jena died, 1 had nightmares. I'd wake up in a cold sweat. I know the symptoms. Something's eating at you. What is it?" he coaxed softly.
"I dream ..." she began, her voice low and hesitant. She closed her eyes, shivering while she clutched him as if he were a bulwark against terror.
"Dream what, darlin'?"
"That I'm losing the boys." She raised her face. "I love them. Jedy is only five. In some ways he's like my son." She shuddered. "Someday Aurora will get tired of dancing. She'll come home, gather up the boys— which is right—and go." Crystal straightened. Pug's blue eyes had changed to slate, almost hidden by shadows. "I love them terribly," she said. "I'll have to say good-bye and let them go. . . ." Shaking, she covered her face.
He tightened his arms around her and held her while she cried silently without moving. The only evidence was the hot tears coursing down her cheeks. "I love them, yet I know they should be with their mother."
"Crystal, she may not come back. Or it might be a long time."
"I know, I shouldn't worry now, but I have nightmares. When I dream, it seems real. They're with me, then suddenly there's gray everywhere and I lose them. I can see their hands ..."
She tightened her hold on Pug. "I can't tell the boys, because I want them to love their mother, to want to be with her." She raised her head. "I feel as if I'm having to give up my own children."
"Oh, darlin', I'm sorry. They're lucky little boys to have had your love."
"For their sakes, I want her to come. But oh, how I love them! I get scared when I think how brave I'll have to be when I give them back to her."
Suddenly she couldn't hold back a sob. "I don't want to make it harder on them. I've had to do so many things, but this is one I'm scared I can't manage. I want them to love their mother and feel she loves them, but when they go, I think I'll fall apart."
"I've found we usually weather the tough spots simply because we have to."
She clung to him, feeling battered by unseen forces. His warm strength was reassuring. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk to you about it because you've had your own bad moments."
"Talk away. That was long ago. Crystal, little witch with a great big heart ..." He began rocking her slightly. "You've given them something special. They'll always love you."
"I know. I don't understand Aurora. I wouldn't give them up for all the success in the world."

They sat in silence while she gradually became still. Warmth returned and she felt more like herself. And finally she became fully aware of Pug Moffitt. She was lying against his bare chest, only her yellow nightgown between them to her waist, then the rumpled sheet thrown casually over her legs. Her elbow rested on his tight jeans. Pug's chest was warm, covered with golden hair, his muscles taut.
Her hand drifted down over his chest and the soft mat of curls tickled her palm. She raised her hand to his throat. His pulse was racing and she looked up in surprise.
"Crystal," he whispered hoarsely, leaning down to kiss her, letting her sink to the pillow as he came down on top.
She clung to him wildly, kissing him with abandon. He made her feel so alive. His big hand trailed down her side, over the soft fullness of her breast, across her ribs and narrow waist, slipping beneath the sheet to brush aside the gown and touch a slender thigh. She moaned softly. Their tongues clashed with curious seeking as her hands drifted across his broad back, following his spine.
Slowly Pug sat up, facing her solemnly. She felt shaken at the expression in his eyes. She pressed her hips against his while her fingers drifted across his chest. She wanted to pull him down again, yet she hesitated because of the look in his eyes.
"What is it, Pug?"
"Little witch," he said gruffly, "I have my vulnerable spots too. You seem to have found them without effort."
"I don't understand."
He leaned down to kiss her, but it was a tender kiss, not fiery as before. A shudder racked his big body and he flexed his muscles. "Think the nightmares are gone now?" He straightened and stood up.
"Yes," she said softly, aching to reach for him as if he were necessary to her very existence.
His gaze lowered, moving down over her throat, across her throbbing breasts, their taut peaks outlined by the gown.
"Oh, Crystal!" He left swiftly, closing the door behind him. She raised herself on her elbows and stared at the door, thinking about what he'd said. He had vulnerable spots too—what had worried him? She frowned and wondered what had made him stop. It was obvious it had taken an effort, that he had wanted to continue loving her. A tremor coursed through her and she lay down. She wanted him. Pug Moffitt was very special. Was he a threat to her life—or a blessing?
She thought about his kisses, his tender, calm words, his solid presence. She rubbed her head on the pillow and envisioned his big golden body. With a smile she closed her eyes and slept like a baby.
And awoke to the smell of frying bacon. A tempting smell. Crystal's stomach announced its status. She flung back the covers and quickly dressed in navy slacks and a matching sweater.
When she joined them in the galley, Pug was stirring something in a skillet and Gramps was at the table reading the morning paper. The sun's rays glinted through the windows and reflections of sunlight on the river threw rippling patterns of golden light on the teak ceiling overhead.
" 'Morning, Crystal," both men said, but it was Pug who held her attention. He was wearing wheat-colored jeans and a wheat-colored flannel shirt. His blond hair was tousled, locks hanging over his forehead. His sexy blue eyes held a gleam that seemed hotter than the fire under the skillet. She wanted to walk into his arms and hug him.
His gaze locked with hers, making her breathless until Gramps rattled the paper and loudly cleared his throat.
Pug grinned. "Ready for an omelet?" he asked.
"Sounds wonderful. Can I help?"
"Why don't you sit down here, Crystal?" Gramps said quickly. "Let me show you the headlines. I'm sure Pug doesn't need any help."
"He might. What can I do?"
"Crystal," Gramps persisted, "I know you mean well, but don't touch that man's omelet!"
Pug turned his back.
"There are other things I might help with," Crystal said. "Pouring coffee?"
There was a moment's pause. Then, with his back still turned, Pug said, "If you'd like, you can pour the coffee."
He was laughing! She raised her chin and glanced at Gramps, who lifted the paper hastily to hide his face.
"I'll have to see about my car today," she said.
"I'll do it," Pug said. "It's no trouble. I can take you to work first."
"Thanks. I'll call Betty and ask her to keep the boys. They're out of school today."
"Let me get them and bring them out here," Pug said quickly.
"Good idea!" Gramps lowered the newspaper. "They'll have a ball."

"I won't be here, Gramps, and Pug's not used to two rambunctious little boys."
"Don't worry, Crystal. We'll manage."
"Sure," Gramps said. "They'll be beside themselves with this houseboat. This is the perfect way to live! Don't you think so, Crystal? Little rocking all the time. Didn't you have the best night's sleep last night that you ever had in your whole life?"
As Pug turned around, she blushed, but she met his gaze steadily. "It might have been," she said.
He winked, then returned his attention to the omelet. When he opened the oven, Crystal glimpsed fluffy golden biscuits. He snapped the oven shut, opened the refrigerator to get small bowls of mixed fruit: chunks of yellow pineapple, red strawberries, pale melon, white slices of bananas.
"This looks delicious," she said.
"What a cook he is, Crystal!" Gramps said, folding the paper. "He fixed me pancakes when I got up." He patted his stomach. "Perfection. Thick, light, with sugary brown maple syrup. And you have a cooking lesson Saturday."
"Well, I was thinking about it." She glanced at Pug, who grinned.
"We made a deal," Gramps said. "I'm giving you the cooking lessons for your birthday."
"My birthday is in January!"
"So I'm a little early. I paid for your class lessons and for individual lessons. You go from three to five." He beamed with satisfaction.
"Thank you," she said flatly, trying to keep her annoyance out of her voice. "Class lessons will be sufficient. I don't want to take up Pug's time and I don't have time for two hours of lessons on Saturday."

"Of course you do."
"That's when I clean house."
"It'll keep. If you learn to cook, the housekeeping will come second."
Crystal poured coffee while Pug put food on the table and they sat down to eat. She closed her eyes as she chewed the lightest biscuit she had ever sunk her teeth into. Opening her eyes, she found Pug watching her with amusement.
"It's delicious!"
"Thanks."
"Best damned cooking I've ever eaten," Gramps said with satisfaction and a gleam in his eyes. "A houseboat, you're a big, strapping fellow, and you're the best cook in the next forty states. Are you single?"
Crystal choked on her coffee and set the cup down with a clink. "Gramps!"
"Very single," Pug said, smiling.
Crystal's blush set her on fire. She wanted to pack her things, get her grandfather, and go before he said another word. She gritted her teeth as he said, "So's Crystal."
"Will you stop embarrassing me, please!" she said. Pug's smile got wider and Crystal got hotter.
"Who, me? Just a friendly conversation, Crystal. The man might like to take you out."
"Gramps!"
Pug studied his plate for an instant, then raised his head. His blue eyes were dancing with amusement as he drawled, "I'd love to take Crystal out."
"Now, look here, Gramps. You'll embarrass both of us."
"Have another biscuit, Crystal," he said. "Pug's old enough to speak up if he doesn't want to do something." He squinted at Pug. "How old are you? Thirty?"
"Thirty-two."
"That's personal, Gramps, and you know it."
He shrugged. "Just getting acquainted with Pug. If I don't ask now, I will when you're gone."
She closed her eyes, knowing Pug was biting back laughter. She was torn with indecision. Which would be worse, to leave and escape Gramps's questions— thereby giving up the remainder of the fluffiest, most delicious omelet she had tasted—or to stay and eat and be subjected to Gramps's conversation? Food won.
"You're thirty-two," Gramps said. "How come you haven't married?"
"I'm widowed."
"I'm sorry. I know how it is. Long ago?"
"When I was twenty-four."
"Sorry to hear. You never know." Gramps helped himself to some strawberry jam, then passed it to Crystal.
"You have a girlfriend now?"
"No one in particular."
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Crystal muttered. As she handed the crystal dish of jam to Pug, Gramps announced, "Crystal loves to dance."
She chewed a little faster and carefully avoided looking at Pug. "Is that so?" he said. "Would you like to go dancing tonight, Crystal?"
She shot Gramps a frown, then said, "Thank you, no, I can't."
"Now, why in tarnation not?" Gramps asked.
Pug's dimples appeared, but he pursed his lips as she said, "I was away from the boys last night. I think I should be home tonight. And we have to find a place to stay. We don't want to impose on Pug's hospitality."
"He's insisted we stay," Gramps said hastily.
"Sure," Pug said. "There's no need for you to go somewhere else. The weatherman said we may have rain again late this afternoon. That would mean more flooding and more homeless people. You might as well stay here."
"Then let me buy the groceries," she said.
"No need, but thanks."
"What church do you attend, Pug?"
"That's a private matter, Gramps!"
"I'm Methodist."
"What do you know! So are we. You should marry a good Methodist girl. Makes a strong marriage, you know."
"Why don't you just offer him the house for a dowry?"
"Don't get testy, Crystal. Just getting to know Pug."
"If you two will excuse me," she said with as much dignity as possible, "I've lost my appetite."
Gramps chuckled. "After an omelet, two biscuits, and a bowl of fruit!"
She rose to rinse her dishes. Behind her Gramps whispered loudly, "Crystal's a good housekeeper. She's got a nice disposition too."
"You don't say!"
She wanted to chuck the dishes into the sink and leave. Instead, she splashed water noisily and washed them, trying to ignore the conversation behind her. When the men finished, she helped Pug clean the galley. Then he disappeared into his room.

Crystal turned in time to see Gramps raise the paper high in front of his face.
"Gramps, come out from behind the paper!"
"Crystal, we had fourteen inches of rain last night! Fourteen! That's an all-time record. Mingo and Joe Creeks both are on the rampage."
"Put the paper down. And how'd you get a paper when we're on the river during a flood?"
"Pug Moffitt is a capable man, Crystal. Very competent."
"You and I have to have an understanding."
"Now, don't get yourself into a snit. I just asked Pug a few questions to get to know him better. You should've gone dancing."
"Don't try to matchmake! He's an adult. He knows what he wants, and you're embarrassing me terribly!"
"Pshaw! Crystal, he's too good to be true. He looks healthy as a horse, he cooks like a French chef, and he's nice. But mostly he cooks. It won't hurt you to be sweet to him. We don't want him to get away."
"We don't want him to get away!" She shifted her weight, stared at the ceiling, and tried to get her temper under control. "Lordy, am I supposed to try to hook him into an affair?"
"Affair! Dammit, young lady! There better not be an affair! Marriage, Crystal!"
"Marriage! We just met! All you want is his cooking!"
"Lower your voice." Gramps thrust out his jaw. "You're gettin' mighty worked up. Don't tell me you two haven't noticed each other. I saw him hug you at the fairgrounds."
"Stop playing Cupid to get his cooking!"

"You're not getting any younger, Crystal."
"Maybe not, but I'm not flinging myself at Pug Moffitt to—" She snapped her mouth closed as he filled the doorway. His blue eyes were dancing with gleeful demons and the dimples winked at her. He tilted his head, arched his eyebrows, and asked innocently, "Did I hear my name mentioned?"
Gramps chuckled while Crystal burned. She turned away to hide her embarrassment.
"Show the paint shop to Pug, Crystal."
"Sure," she said between clenched teeth. "Ready?" She glanced at Pug, who was pulling on a brown windbreaker and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Sure thing. See you soon, Mr. Barnett."
"Call me Gramps, Pug. I feel like you're family."
"Sure, Gramps."
Crystal wanted to scream. She yanked up her red poplin jacket and pulled it on, leaving with a stiff good-bye to Gramps. She and Pug stepped out onto the deck above a swirling red-brown river. The water was running high, spreading through brush and trees, overflowing the banks. As if in disdain of the previous night's havoc, the weather had changed. The sun shone fully, the blue skies were endless, and the air held a crisp coolness. The only reminders of the storm were a damp wind that carried a smell of water and fish, and the muddy, swollen river.
The long dock was hidden, only the handrails jutting up revealing its existence. Pug stepped down onto the dock, where water an inch deep splashed on his tan western boots. He turned to reach for her, but Crystal stepped down beside him.
"Thanks, I'll walk. I can wade through it if you can."

He grinned, took her arm, and they left, splashing along. She was still burning with embarrassment and after several moments of silence snapped, "Don't you dare laugh, Pug Moffitt!"
"Your cooking must be the most gosh-awful in the U.S.A., Crystal."
"It's bad, all right."
"I think your grandfather would sell your fair body for a square meal."
"Well, I can't take responsibility for Gramps's conversation. No one can stop him once he gets started."
"Little stubborn, huh?"
She heard the laughter in his voice and asked stiffly, "Can we change the subject?"
"Why? This is the most fascinating morning I've had in a long time."
"You're no help, you know!" She turned to confront him and he threw back his head, hearty laughter floating in the chilly morning air. "If you were a woman and he was your grandfather, you'd understand. As it is, you're as aggravating at times as Gramps!"
"I'm sorry for laughing, but he wants me to marry you so damned badly. Your cooking can't be that terrible!"
"It is. I'm an awful cook. And you're such a good one."
She gazed into his merry blue eyes and her anger evaporated. As she laughed, he hugged her, and warmth poured into her day in spite of the fact that a chilly breeze was whipping off the water.
She glanced back at the houseboat and saw a blur of movement at a window.
"He's watching."

"Well, we might as well make him happy."
"Oh, no! Don't egg him on!" But Pug's mouth stopped her protest and he crushed her to him. He leaned over for another of his swooping hugs and burning kisses, bending her down until the back of her head was inches above the water. She clung to his shoulders tightly and forgot the world. Pug straightened and smiled at her.
"You're a big help!" she said accusingly, but her voice was breathless.
"You're cute, little witch!" He grinned and stroked his finger down her nose. "Shall we get the boys? Then I'll take you to the store, bring them back here, and I'll go to work."
"That's a lot of trouble."
"Anything for you, darlin'," he drawled, and she smiled at him.
His big hands closed on her waist and he swung her into the jeep. They drove slowly through muddy streets that were littered with debris. Tall oaks dotted soggy lawns, and they passed stalled cars parked at odd angles by the high water. The paving of a shopping-center parking lot had been uprooted, leaving big slabs of gray concrete pushed against red brick buildings.
Pug turned the jeep onto a gravel drive on a sloping lawn and Crystal went inside to get her nephews. They greeted her enthusiastically, she thanked Betty, then led the boys out to the jeep. Both boys were thin, and Pete was tall for his age, with dark brown hair falling over hazel eyes. Jedy's hair was lighter and he had large gray eyes that gave him a faint resemblance to Crystal. The boys climbed into the jeep and settled into the back while she introduced them.

"Boys, this is Mr. Moffitt. Pug, this is Pete and Jedy Taylor."
"Hi, guys."
"We're staying with Mr. Moffitt," Crystal went on.
"Gramps said we'll be in a houseboat," Pete said.
"That's right. On the river."
"That's neat! We're gonna sleep there?"
"Yep," Pug answered.
"Aunt Crystal, when will we see our house?"
"We'll go when I get off work," Crystal said. "If the car's running."
"Gramps said the garage exploded," Pete said. "Just blam! And then the fire broke out! And we missed it! Bet Aunt Valenta nearly jumped outta her skin!"
"Are my cars burned?" Jedy asked.
"The kitchen and garage were the worst," Crystal said. "We'll have to get the soot cleaned off everything, but I think your toys will be fine."
"Gramps told me you can really cook, Mr. Moffitt," Pete said, and Crystal began to get uneasy.
"Mr. Moffitt's a very good cook," she said. "When did you talk to Gramps?"
"He phoned to tell us you were on your way."
"And to tell us about the houseboat and to be real extra nice to Mr. Moffitt," Jedy added in a high, clear voice.
Crystal took a deep breath and saw Pug's dimples appear.
"Did you have fun at Billy's?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure."
Pete touched her hair. "Gramps said you're gonna take cooking lessons from Mr. Moffitt."
"That's right."

"Will you learn to fry chicken without burning it?" Jedy asked.
"I hope so," she answered, while Pug stared straight ahead.
Pete leaned forward to whisper in Pug's ear on the side away from Crystal, but she could hear him. "Can you try real hard to teach her to bake chocolate-chip cookies? She has an awful time with cookies."
"Pete," Crystal said, "I get all the cookies you need from the bakery."
He frowned. "Gee whiz, Aunt Crystal. The last ones were Uncle Sam's Licorice Crunchies."
"If you'd like a different kind, just ask."
"We'll give chocolate-chips a try," Pug said, smothered laughter tinting his words. "You like chocolate, Crystal?"
"Burnt chocolate's more like it," Pete muttered, and sank down in the corner of the back seat.
"Yes, I like chocolate. And rainbows and roses ..." The talk drifted to harmless topics and Crystal relaxed.
As they entered the long, narrow paint store, the phone was ringing. Crystal answered it. On the other end was Bill Smalley, the insurance agent. And the news was bad. When she put down the receiver, she looked up to see Pug lounging in the doorway of her office. "They canceled your policy, didn't they?" he said.
"Yes." She rubbed her forehead. "I expected it."
"Do you need money, Crystal?"
Startled out of her thoughts about the house, she smiled. "No, we'll be all right. The store does a good business."
"I can help."

"Thank you," she answered, and realized he meant it. "There's money, but it'll mean hunting for another company to insure us, paying higher premiums, and getting the house fixed. Pug, I'm not telling Gramps until I have to."
"Won't he ask?"
"Sooner or later, but hopefully not before I've had a chance to hire someone to clean up the smoke damage and start rebuilding. Otherwise, Gramps will want to do it, and you've seen evidence of his handiwork. I can't go through that when it's the kitchen. And he's not physically able to do it now."
"I'll help you get estimates if you'd like."
"You're getting mighty helpful, Mr. Moffitt."
"Reliable, sturdy Moffitt, dull as old soap, ready to help."
She laughed as her spirits lifted. "Want to see the Barnett Paint Store?"
"Can't wait."
While the boys sat at Crystal's computer, Jedy watching Pete play a game, Pug and Crystal walked through the storeroom to the front, where cans of paint, bins of brushes, and other painting paraphernalia were displayed. One corner was filled with wallpaper samples. Pug passed in front of a roll on display. It was white with blue and tan sailing ships.
"That would be nice in my cabin if I had paper, but it'll have to be paint."
"On that marvelous teak?"
"We'll work it out. There'll be something you can do for me when you lose the bet."
"You're sure of yourself!"
He leveled his wide blue eyes on her. "With your family, no dull, sturdy fellow will last ten minutes."

"There ought to be one soul in the world who could overlook them and, at the same time, not be like them."
"I'm not like them. I hope I'm a little more subtle."
"Oh, sure thing—like your kiss on the dock this morning!"
He grinned. "Maybe a few exceptions."
Her curiosity stirred. "What did you do before cooking?"
"Just ordinary business. I was a manager before I opened the Cookery. Are you the only one who works here?"
"No. I have two employees and a paint crew of three people whom we recommend. They don't actually work for me."
"Why didn't you sell this and go into accounting?"
"It's the family store. Mom and Dad will come back sometime and work here."
When they returned to the office, Pug said, "You ready to see the houseboat, guys?"
"Yes, sir," Pete said, and turned off the computer.
"Okay. Get in the jeep. I'll be right there."
"C'mon, Jedy," Pete said. When they had gone, Pug turned to Crystal.
"They're quiet," he said.
"They're a little shy at first. When you get to know them, especially Jedy, they're very affectionate. Their parents are overwhelming. Their father's Flip Taylor."
"The actor?"
"That's him. His career is more important too."
Pug shook his head, then smiled at her and tilted her chin up. "I'm going to miss you, Crystal Barnett."
"It's only until I get off at five," she answered breathlessly, and put her hands on his forearms. His flesh was warm, the golden hairs soft, his muscles solid. "You'll have the challenge of your life in teaching me to cook."
"I adore challenge."
"I noticed. Why did you leave last night?"
Something flickered in his eyes. "That cost me, Crystal," he said. His voice was husky, like a warm syrupy stream rising around her. "One sleepless night. But what kind of heel would I have been if I had taken advantage of your emotional state? You were upset, feeling low." He shook his head as his eyes darkened and he caressed the nape of her neck.
"When we make love, I want it to be out of happiness, out of need for each other, not when you're swamped with anxiety."
She quivered, as though his words were a bow rasping lightly over eager nerves, making them throb and vibrate. "When we make love ..." The words echoed, gathering like clouds in intensity, shaking her to her soul. Pug looked down into her eyes, then pulled her to him and kissed her until she thought she would faint. And his kiss—a breathless, heart-stopping kiss that seemed as necessary as air to her lungs—confirmed his words.
When he released her, his pulse rate was as erratic as hers. "See you later, darlin"."
She wanted to hold him and never let go. Before he moved away she stood on tiptoe and tightened her arms around his neck. "Mr. Moffitt, I'm trying to be real extra nice to you," she said lightly, masking the urgency she felt.
Hard arms crushed her again and he returned her kiss soundly, then raised his head. "What are you doing to me, Crystal? There are two little boys waiting."
"I know, and I have to sell paint," she said in a dazed voice.
"Later, darlin'," he drawled huskily. "We'll take up where we left off."
"Pug, why did you say you're vulnerable?" she asked, her voice low.
"Because, little witch, I have protective barriers around my heart too. And you, with your big gray eyes and your big kind heart and your green skin and long black dress, slipped right past them. In less than twenty-four hours, you're more important to me than you'd guess."
A tremor rippled across her shoulders and down her spine, and she leaned closer. She felt the same, but she couldn't tell him. Not yet. She felt dizzy from his words that sounded so sincere. "Maybe we're going to be best friends," she said softly, making his solemn expression disappear and amusement sparkle his eyes.
"Right, darlin'. Very best friends. The best kind in the whole world."
"The boys are waiting. 'Bye, Pug," she said, and watched him stride jauntily away. When the door closed behind him, the store seemed empty. Very best friends, she thought. He was turning out to be one in many ways.
The day was the usual weekday business, but Crystal couldn't keep her mind on paint. Images of blue eyes and a come-join-the-fun grin interfered with her concentration and she had to mix cans of paint twice as long, study color swatches more intently, and ask customers to repeat their requests.

When she had a lull in the afternoon, she called for estimates on redoing the garage and kitchen, and found a company to clean the soot out of the house. Next she tried to find another company that would insure them. She called to reschedule the photography sessions, making them during late-afternoon hours at the paint store. Valenta phoned to get a report on the house and left a number where she could be reached.
Late in the day, while she was waiting on a customer, Pug appeared and told an employee that Crystal's car was parked behind the store. He left before she could thank him or find out what had been wrong with the car. Finally at five she closed the shop and drove to the river.

Six
That night they sat down to braised bluefish with sour-cream sauce, steamed zucchini, a loaf of fresh brown bread from the Cookery, tossed lettuce salad, and peach-and-blueberry compote for dessert. Pug seemed to get everything onto the table with little effort. As delicious as every bite was, Crystal felt on edge after the first few seconds at dinner when Gramps rolled his eyes and said, "Best damned cooking I ever ate!"
"Boy, this is good, Mr. Moffitt!" Pete said.
"Thanks," he said. "Why don't you call me Pug. We won't be so formal."
"Aunt Crystal cooks good hot dogs," Jedy said loyally, and she smiled, pushing locks of brown hair away from his forehead.
"Thanks, Jedy."
"She's perfect for the boys," Gramps said. "They adore her."
"Can't blame them," Pug said, and winked at her.
Gramps chuckled. "Crystal's got a head on her shoulders. She's a whiz at keeping books."
"Thank you, Gramps," she said sweetly, hoping to end the praise. "What was the matter with my car, Pug?"
"Loose connection in the spark plugs. It's fine."
"You're mechanical too! What do you know!" Gramps said between bites of fish.
"Thanks for bringing it to the store. Repairs on the house will start tomorrow."
"Can we stay here until they're finished?" Pete asked.
"I don't—"
"Sure, you can," Pug said easily.
"Now, isn't that generous!" Gramps said. "Son, you really are a man after my heart!"
Crystal took a deep breath, forced a smile, and said, "We'll move to a motel when the flood is over."
She gazed across the table into blue eyes filled with challenge. Hastily she lowered her lashes. To her relief Pug got into a conversation with the boys about soccer and she could enjoy every delicious bite of dinner.
Later that night in the main cabin, Crystal watched Pug playing with Jedy. Pug was on his hands and knees and Jedy was on his shoulders. Jedy laughed, tugging at Pug's hair, and suddenly Crystal felt a pang. If only Pug and she were married and the boys were theirs!
She blinked, refocused on Pug, and realized she was falling in love with him. It was so soon, but she knew in her heart he was filling niches in her life that had been empty. In his presence time vanished, moments sparkled with fun, and when the problems loomed high, he was a good listener. His big ears. She studied them, the thatch of unruly golden hair, and she wanted to drop down on the floor and hug him along with Jedy.
At that moment he glanced at her. Suddenly he paused, his eyebrows raised, and his brow furrowed quizzically. They stared into each other's eyes until Pete jumped on Pug and knocked him down.
Crystal drew a deep breath as her thoughts cleared. "Pete! Don't do that," she admonished.
"He's all right, Crystal." Pug caught him with an arm around his shoulders and a hand on his back. "Know how to wrestle, Pete?"
"Oh, no!" she murmured.
"No. Show me."
"Put your arm here. This is a half nelson."
"Did you wrestle when you were little, Pug?" Jedy asked.
"Yep, sometimes."
"Do you have a brother?" Pete asked.
"Nope."
"Where's your mom and dad?" Jedy asked in his high voice. Crystal glanced at Pug's furrowed brow and felt a twist in her heart. Jedy asked everyone about his mother and father.
"I don't know them," Pug answered easily. "I was an orphan." Gramps looked at him briefly.
"What's an orphan?" Jedy asked.
"He didn't have a mom and dad." Pete answered.
"Where did you live?"

Crystal started to interrupt, but a glance from Pug made her close her mouth and remain quiet. He straightened, shook his hair out of his eyes, and sat cross-legged on the floor by the boys. "I lived in an orphanage, a home for children, when I was your age, Jedy. Then when I was older, people took me to live in their homes, foster homes."
"Did your mom and dad go away?" Jedy's voice quavered slightly, and the twist of hurt intensified in Crystal.
"I guess they did. I never knew them." Pug's voice was gentle, but there was a hard set to his chin that was as devastating as his tender answer to Jedy. She ached to pull him to her, to hold him. He was big and strong, yet he had his vulnerable spots as much as the little boys.
"How'd you get the name Pug if you were an orphan?" Pete asked bluntly. Again Crystal opened her mouth to stop him, but Pug waved his hand at her, silencing her.
"I was told that the nurses in the hospital named me," he answered flatly, and Crystal hated the tone of his voice. Somewhere in his past were bad moments to make his voice so cold. She wished she were alone with him as the urge to hold him mushroomed.
"Seems to me you might like family life, settling down now," Gramps said amicably with an air of innocence that made Crystal narrow her eyes.
"I think I would at that," Pug answered, and his dimples appeared.
"Married life is a wonderful life. Nothing like a family," Gramps stated wistfully. After taking a sip of his hot chocolate, he added, "Crystal's maternal instincts run high. What a good little mother she'll be."
"You gonna teach Aunt Crystal to cook like you do?" Pete asked.
"I'm going to try."
"Gramps said he offered you a hundred dollars to teach her to cook and you turned it down," Jedy said.
"Folks, I have to turn in," Gramps said, standing up stiffly.
Crystal's cheeks heated. One hundred dollars! she thought.
"How come you don't want a hundred dollars?" Jedy asked persistently.
"Because Aunt Crystal's bright, Jedy. She won't be that hard to teach," Pug said solemnly. "I can already tell."
She felt her irritation melting like the cheese on Pug's lasagne, but she still wanted to have a word with Gramps.
"Gramps, may I see you a moment?" she said.
"Hmmm. With the boys here, how'll we sleep?" he asked, picking up his cup to drink the last of the chocolate, avoiding looking at Crystal.
Pug rubbed his head. "Well, Crystal has a cabin, Gramps is in a cabin, and I'm out here." He looked around.
Jedy's small voice piped up. "I know. Gramps can stay where he is, Pug and Aunt Crystal can sleep in there together, and we can sleep out here."
Gramps choked on his drink and started coughing. He rushed into the galley while Pug grinned and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for Crystal to answer.
"No, Jedy," she replied. "We can't."

"Why not?"
"You stupe!" Pete said in disgust with a condescending air.
"Now, be nice, Pete," she said. "Jedy, men and women who aren't married don't ..." She paused, hearing Gramps whoop and cough in the galley. Pug looked as if he would pop with suppressed laughter, and she realized that she had waded into muddy water. Pete looked at her as if she needed a lecture on the facts of life.
"Jedy, we can't sleep that way. I'll talk to you about it later."
"Maybe I better talk to Jedy about it," Pug drawled, making Pete giggle. She blushed. Men, men, men! It didn't matter if they were four years old or forty or one hundred! There were times they all were trouble!
"Tell you what, guys," Pug said quickly. "I'll get two sleeping bags and you can bunk down out here."
"Or in my room," Crystal said.
"Or mine," Gramps said from the galley.
"We want to be with Pug, please," Pete said.
She gazed across their heads at Pug. "Looks as if you're the popular fellow."
"It's my strong back. I give nice piggyback rides. Want to see?"
"No!" she snapped, and both boys giggled.
It took another half-hour to get the boys ready for bed. While they brushed their teeth, she knocked on Gramps's door and stepped into his cabin. He raised his head from the pillow.
"Gramps, I want to talk to you for a minute."
"Now?"
"Yes." She closed the door and switched on the light. "Will you please stop matchmaking! And you shouldn't have offered Pug one hundred dollars to teach me to cook! My cooking's not that bad!"
"Crystal, I'm so tired. Let's talk about it tomorrow." He pulled the covers over his head. "Turn out the light as you go, please." A snore came from the bed.
"Gramps, I know you're not asleep, Please don't embarrass me."
From beneath the covers came a muffled voice. "Grandfathers have the right to brag a little about their grandchildren, Crystal. You are smart and capable."
Crystal sighed. What could she do with him? She turned out the light and returned to the main cabin. She read a story to the boys, kissed them good night, and started for her cabin, but Pug reached out to take her hand..
"Nine o'clock isn't my bedtime," he said softly. "Get your jacket."
She got it, kissed Jedy and Pete again, and joined Pug outside. He took her arm and led her to the rail. His arm went around her shoulders as they looked around at the full white moon's reflection wavering across the black water. It was a moment in time that would remain in her memory because Pug was with her. Downstream a light glowed from a lantern, a yellow streak glimmering on the shiny surface. In the distance shone the blue-white lights of downtown Tulsa. Sweeping off the river, a cool breeze buffeted them, and Pug turned her into his warm embrace.
Instantly every one of her nerves tingled in response. She reached up eagerly to hold him and kiss him.
How long they stood at the rail she didn't know, but finally she stepped back. "We better go inside."

His big fingers toyed with the collar of her jacket. "You think so?"
She nodded and went inside swiftly, walking carefully around the sleeping boys and pausing for a moment in the doorway to her cabin, looking back at Pug. His solemn expression made her heart soar, but she stepped into the cabin and quietly closed the door.
Pug prevailed on them to stay while their house was redone. For the rest of the week Crystal would drop Pete off at school and Jedy at kindergarten in the morning, then go on to the store. A friend would bring Jedy by after kindergarten and Pete would walk there in the afternoon. In the evening Crystal drove them all to Pug's boat. Valenta came by the store on two occasions, but refused to join them on Pug's boat. Each night Crystal came home to a dinner cooked by Pug, to an evening spent together. As her feelings for Pug increased, her aggravation at her grandfather's less-than-subtle hints rose accordingly.
On Thursday night she was sitting in the main cabin with Jedy while Gramps read. Pug was in the galley repairing a toy airplane for Pete. In his childish voice Jedy said, "Aunt Crystal, are you going to marry Pug?"
Startled, she glanced up. "No, Jedy."
"Are you sure?"
"We're just friends," she said, knowing Pug could hear Jedy.
Jedy tilted his head to one side and said solemnly, "Gramps said to pray that Pug marries you."
"Oh, he did!"
"Doesn't hurt the child to pray for someone's happiness," Gramps said, setting down his book. "Think I'll go to bed, Crystal."
"Gramps, you and I need to have another little talk."
"Tomorrow, please. 'Night, Jedy." Gramps winked. "Remember what I told you."
She didn't want to ask. She didn't want to know. She just wanted Jedy to talk about marbles and Star Trek and something harmless.
"Yes, sir." Jedy jumped up and ran to Gramps to kiss him good night. Gramps held the boy, then whispered something in his ear, and Crystal's sense of foreboding deepened.
"Don't use a little innocent somebody for your own purposes," she said flatly.
Gramps smiled. "Wasn't that the best dinner you ever sank your teeth into? Fried chicken. Scrumptious, crispy, melt-in-your-mouth chicken, Crystal. I'll tell you, Pug Moffitt can cook!" He spoke so loudly Crystal knew there was no way Pug could help hearing. "He's awfully good with the young'uns too."
"He's a paragon. 'Night, Gramps."
"I've gained three pounds this week, Crystal."
"That's nice," she said sweetly.
"Dr. Jackson will be glad to hear that I'm eating better."
"I'm sure he will."
"Oh, the boys decided to bed down in my cabin tonight."
She glanced down at Jedy and saw him look at his great-grandfather. Suddenly she could smell a rat. A woolly let's-get-Crystal-married rat!
"You don't want to sleep out here?" she asked the boy.

"Naw," Jedy said with great reluctance.
"They're fine with me," Gramps said blithely. "Don't forget what I told you, Jedy," he added, and Crystal suspected that she should hope Jedy forgot promptly and completely whatever it was Gramps had put him up to doing.
She was right. As soon as Gramps had closed the door, Jedy said, "If Pug marries you, we can be a family."
"Jedy, Pug and I hardly know each other."
"Gramps says that doesn't matter when people fall in love."
"Would you like me to read a story to you?"
"Oh, boy! How about 'Terry the Tyrannosaurus'?"
"Good."
He ran to a chest, rummaged in it, and returned with a dog-eared book while she watched the doorway for a smug grin to appear.
As he settled in her lap, Jedy asked, "Are you in love with Pug?"
"No, Jedy." He looked so downfallen she hugged him. "Look, Pug and I are good friends. Really good friends."
"Then why can't you marry him?"
"He didn't ask me. Do you want me to read to you?"
"He'll ask you. Gramps said he will. He told Pug how much fun you are and how smart you are and he told us—"
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Jedy, some things you don't try to talk people into."
"Gramps said to try to talk Pug into this or we'd lose Pug's cooking. Yours is okay, Aunt Crystal. Your hot dogs are super," he added hastily as if to avoid hurting her feelings.

"Thanks," she said dryly. "How about 'Terry'?"
"Okay." He wiggled against her and settled in her lap, laying his head on her shoulder while she opened the book.
Later, after the boys had gone to bed in the cabin with Gramps, she sat beside Pug on the couch in the main cabin.
"I can't wait to eat your super hot dogs," he said, placing his hand lightly on her knee.
"Smarty. You heard every word, didn't you? Just because you're a gourmet cook, you don't need to rub it in!"
His grin was contagious. "You'll learn. I've been told what a quick mind you have, how you excelled in school, the debate award you won. 1 have great faith in you."
She groaned. "Please, spare me!"
"Gramps is a character." He laughed and stroked her knee so lightly, yet the touch fizzed into her veins.
"Where did you get all the yummy recipes?"
He shrugged. "First from one place, then another. I've always liked to cook. I like to eat."
"It must all settle in your shoulders. Think you'll stay with the Cookery or move on to something else?"
"In the near future. I'll stay. I'm franchising it. I opened one in Oklahoma City last year and one in Dallas this year."
"I didn't know that! How do you franchise your cooking?"
He grinned and drew circles on her knee with his fingers, tiny circles that captured her attention. His blunt, strong fingers looked capable of almost any task, and she couldn't resist touching his arm.

"I train the new owners here and then they open their own store."
"Are your recipes secret?"
"Some of them belong exclusively to the Cookery." His fingers moved higher on her leg and she drew in her breath. His lips were full, so perfect. She ran her tongue across her lower lip.
"Crystal!" he whispered. His arm slipped around her waist. In one move he lifted her onto his lap, then leaned over her to kiss her. All conversation ended for the next few minutes until the door opened and Jedy appeared, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"I had a bad dream, Aunt Crystal. I dreamed there were black spiders all over," he said.
Crystal stood up hastily. "I'm coming, Jedy." She glanced back at Pug and he smiled.
" 'Night, Aunt Crystal," he said softly.
" 'Night, Pug." She took Jedy's hand.
"Will you tell me a story?"
"Sure, Jedy. Come in my cabin so we don't disturb anyone else."
"Sit out here, Crystal, until he goes to sleep. I can carry him to bed."
She sat down, pulled the warm, small body onto her lap, and held him tightly. She told the story of "Peter Rabbit" while Pug quietly turned the lights off and sat down to listen.

Seven
Saturday came, the day for her first cooking lesson. This time when she drove to the Cookery, the weather was glorious. It was a crisp, clear November day, with the sun shining brightly, no wind, and yellow marigolds in bloom in yards that hadn't been touched by winter's first frost. She parked, opened the door of Pug's shop, and was surprised to find it buzzing with activity.
Smells of chocolate and cider tempted her as customers milled about the deli, sat at the tables, and sampled treats set out on counters. They roamed around the store, carrying baskets full of food, seafood wafers, thick wedges of Gouda cheese, chocolate truffles, jars of purple jam, and they lined up at cash registers where two women rang up purchases. Behind the deli counter two young men waited on customers.
Carrying her gray coat over her arm, Crystal wound her way to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. Her heart thudded when she saw the tousled golden hair. Pug was standing at the oven, his back to her, faded jeans stretching tautly over his narrow hips and molding to his muscled thighs as he removed hot loaves of bread. The kitchen was filled with white-aproned cooks who were too busy to glance her way. The mouth-watering aroma of baking bread set her taste buds aquiver and she wondered if she would forever think of Pug Moffitt when she smelled hot bread.
As tempting as all the food looked and smelled, something else pulled at Crystal's senses. She longed to touch the golden strands of Pug's hair. She remembered the strength in his broad shoulders, the sloping curve of his spine down to the small of his back.
He set down the bread and turned, his gaze meeting hers instantly. As he crossed the kitchen his eyes lowered. He looked down at her navy jacket, her crisp white blouse, her navy skirt, her long legs, and her pulse jumped by leaps until she heard it pounding in her ears. He stopped in front of her.
"Hi," he said.
"I'm early. I didn't dream you'd be so busy."
"It's Saturday."
"I'm ready," she said breathlessly. She was referring to her cooking lesson, but the moment the words came out, she turned a fiery red and he grinned a slow, sensuous grin.

"I'll introduce you in a calmer moment," he said. "Come here and I'll show you where to put your coat and purse." He took her arm and led her through the kitchen to a long hallway. He opened a door into an office filled with a brown teak desk, papers, a file cabinet, brown chairs, and a thick red carpet. After closing the door, he pulled her to him.
Crystal wound her arms around his neck, pressing her softness against him, relishing the texture of his hair as she tugged it through her fingers. He smelled like hot bread with a faint overtone of citrus, as delicious as anything in his store. She paused and opened her eyes dreamily.
"Yum, yum," she murmured, and strained upward to kiss him, to slide her tongue across his in a hungry kiss that made her want more of him.
As the kisses continued, she felt his hard, hot maleness. His long arm clamped around her waist, holding her tightly, while his other hand molded her curves, roaming down her back, over her hips and buttocks.
She moaned softly, wanting him desperately. "Aren't you supposed to work or cook or something?"
"The 'or something' is best," he drawled suggestively. "You look delectable. Except I like your hair down." He kissed her ear and she raised her lips to his again.
The next time she pulled away, it took a greater effort. She was trembling as she placed her hands on his chest. "Pug, all those people out there. We have to stop."
"We could slip out the back door to my car."
"You have a cooking class." She was trying to think rationally.

"I'll leave a note that I had an emergency appendectomy."
She laughed and moved out of his arms. "We'll stay. Where could we go? My house is burned and yours has Gramps and the kids."
He lowered his lids to gaze at her with a sensual, smoldering hunger that penetrated her system like a laser beam.
"I can find a place."
Her pulse jumped. She wanted to say yes, to grab his big hands and pull him to her, to go someplace where they wouldn't be disturbed. A knock on the door interrupted them.
Pug swore softly and turned around. "Yes?"
"Sorry, Mr. Moffitt," a man's voice came through the door, "but there's a customer who wants to talk to you about catering a banquet. A big banquet—six hundred people."
Pug inhaled, causing his magnificent chest to expand.
"All right, Jake, I'll be there in a second." He waited a moment, then said softly, "We'll be alone later, darlin'."
She saw the promise in his eyes and it made her pulse race like storm winds. "Friends" had been the way she had thought of their relationship. His eyes now added "lovers." As he started to leave, she thought of his life and his past.
"Pug, before you opened this shop, what sort of management job did you have?"
He waggled his fingers. "Just a business. Leave your things in here. I'll close the shop around two o'clock, then the guys will be here at three for their cooking lesson." He left and closed the door behind him before she could say another word.
What was he hiding? she wondered as she stared at the door. He had confided so much about his. heartaches and his past to her the first night they'd been together, yet he was evading answering her about his last job. Was it something secret for the government? She tried to visualize Pug on a secret mission and could do so better than picturing him dealing with crumpets and biscuits. The CIA? The FBI?
Or had it been something illegal? He'd had a footloose childhood and could have wandered down the wrong path. Had he tangled with the law and was hiding a record? Not with his blue eyes and that grin! Then again, con men had nice eyes and smiles or they wouldn't succeed. She chewed her lip thoughtfully while she studied his office. What had he done before? Management. Why wouldn't he tell her? It had to be something sinister or something classified or something that he knew she wouldn't like!
Her gaze came to rest on the picture on the desk, and she picked it up. It was another pose of the lovely golden-haired woman who had so briefly been his wife. She set the picture down, noticing other items on his desk. There was the usual assortment of wire baskets for mail, a pen-and-pencil set, a stack of papers, a horseshoe paperweight. She picked it up. It had been an actual horseshoe, worn, rusty, and was now covered with lacquer. That didn't tell her anything. No way could he have been a jockey. A farmer? She eliminated that guess because why would he hide farming? Why wouldn't he tell her? Usually he was straightforward; it wasn't typical of him.
Mulling it over, she pulled off her jacket and went to look through the Cookery. The store section was as fascinating as the other areas. She roamed past shelves filled with bright tumblers, Swedish cook-ware, handmade aprons and potholders. She returned to the deli with its cases of mouth-watering foods—curried-rice salad, pale green coleslaw, golden French apple torte—but all the time she wandered around the store, part of her attention centered on one place.
Pug was standing by the cheese counter, thumbs hooked into his wide leather belt while he talked to a man dressed in a charcoal-gray suit. Pug was an enigma to her. He didn't seem as if he belonged in a kitchen, yet she had never tasted such delicious cooking as his. He was an orphan who had no family, yet he was wonderful with the boys and could handle Gramps's inquisitive questions. His gaze shifted momentarily from the man in the charcoal suit to her and it was as if a sizzling, invisible current had arced across the room into her soul. She smiled. He winked, then returned his attention to the man.
She couldn't resist shopping. She picked up a basket and gathered a package of German sugar-coated ginger cookies, a dozen brownies, applesauce doughnuts, a loaf of pale brown rye bread, spinach pasta, and a jar of Creole mustard. As she stood in front of a glass case filled with candy and spices, she gazed beyond it to the street and into a pair of dark eyes.
Crystal stiffened. It was the man who had tried to rob Pug on Halloween night!
What was he doing outside now? Stubble darkened his chin and his scraggly hair stood up in tufts, but there was no mistaking the worn jeans and scuffed moccasins, his dark eyes and nervous glances.

She glanced around for Pug, couldn't find him, and looked back outside. The man was gone! After a few seconds she walked away. Stepping to the cash register, she placed her basket on the counter and opened her purse to get out money. Large, blunt fingers closed over her wrist, lifting her hand as Pug shut her purse. He spoke to the tiny, dark-eyed woman behind the cash register. "Patsy, it's on the house."
"Oh, no," Crystal said.
"Patsy, this is Crystal Barnett. Crystal, this is Patsy Collins."
As Crystal nodded and smiled, Pug said, "I'll take care of this." He took Crystal's arm and led her toward the back. "You can put that basket in my office."
"I want to pay for this. We're staying with you."
"Forget it."
"There are moments when you're damned cavalier."
He turned around, placed one hand on the wall, and moved close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "I'm swamped right now, but tonight, Crystal Barnett, I'll show you just how cavalier I can be."
She was on fire. In a room full of people there was only Pug. His eyes had a heady promise that made her blood race. As he turned away to call to someone in the kitchen, she pulled her wits together.
"Pug, I just saw that man who came in Halloween night."
"Where?"
"Outside the shop."
His gaze wandered over the shop while she added, "He was gone when I looked again."

"I'll watch for him." He went into the kitchen, seeming to dismiss the matter with ease. Surely the man hadn't come back with robbery in mind, Crystal thought, but why had he appeared, then not come into the shop? She went back to Pug's office and shortly forgot about the man.
It took until half-past two to get the customers out of the shop, then until three before the employees were gone. By that time the men had arrived for the cooking lesson. Crystal met the four men, learned to cook chili, and couldn't think about anything except how Pug Moffitt looked, how his deep voice sounded, and how much she ached to touch him. When the last of the men had gone and Pug had locked the door behind them, she walked into his open arms and kissed him.
"Now for my lesson," she said, and he laughed softly as he nibbled on her throat. The odor of chili bubbling on the stove and the warmth of the kitchen enveloped them.
"Sure thing, darlin'. Lesson number one. Put your arms around the cook's neck just so, raise your lips, and close your eyes." His bass voice oozed over her with a sultry warmth, and she followed his instructions to the letter.
When he surfaced, he whispered, "You're an apt pupil. Here's the next step. We'll raise the heat like this . . . and like this." And the merriment left his tone. His voice dropped so low again, it became a rumble. He kissed her throat, her ear, the nape of her neck, and his big hands were feathery touches of magic, bringing each quivering inch of flesh to a hungry readiness.
"If you don't stop, how will I learn to cook?"

"You'll learn," he said emphatically. "And I'll learn what makes you tremble, what makes your heart race. Oh, Crystal, I've wanted you, wanted to hold you in my arms," he whispered, and she tightened her arms around him, tilting her head back. His hand wound in her hair, pulling it free, and it cascaded over her shoulders. While he kissed her passionately, his hand slipped beneath her white blouse and found her breast. He filled his big warm hand with her and stroked her throbbing nipple.
Crystal's shaking fingers twisted the buttons on his shirt and pulled them loose. Then she pushed the shirt open and ran her hands across his powerful chest. He was so marvelous to touch! Words rose to her lips, a declaration of love. Her eyes flew open in shock. In turn, his narrowed.
"What is it, Crystal?" he asked in a rasping voice.
She couldn't tell him. It was too soon, her mind too taken at the moment by physical needs. She wanted just to touch him, to love him. She pulled his head down to reach his lips with hers, but before they touched, he said, "We ought to be somewhere romantic, not in the kitchen."
She kissed his throat, laughing softly. "Just try to find someplace more romantic," she answered between kisses. "This is paradise." She touched his big ear with her tongue.
He groaned and his hands tightened on her. "All right, I tried," he said, and swung her up into his arms as his mouth covered hers for another stormy kiss.
She was only dimly aware when he sat down in his office chair and settled her on his lap.
"I need you, Crystal. We belong together." He kissed her throat while his hand pushed beneath her skirt up to her thigh. And they did belong together, Crystal thought. There was no tomorrow, no yesterday, only now with him.
Within minutes he pulled her up and took off her clothing with hands that shook in his haste. His shirt was gone, then the rest of his clothes were tossed away. She reached for him, burning at the sight of his big golden body like a warrior fit for a legend. His muscles were taut, his shoulders extraordinarily broad, yet tapering to a slender waist and hips. His legs were long and powerful. He was leashed power and strength and so very male, but most of all, he was Pug Moffitt. Of all the men on earth, this man was special to her.
While she drank in the sight of him, he leisurely and deliberately appraised her, as if savoring the sight of her pale flesh, her high, firm breasts, her silky brown hair.
"Crystal," he whispered, and brushed the underside of a thrusting breast, making her gasp. "I've wanted you since the first hour you walked into my life." He drew her to him and kissed her. "Darlin', don't worry about protection. I'll take care," he said softly while her hands drifted down his slender hips, making him draw a deep breath.
Together they sank to the soft red carpet and she clung to Pug while he stroked and kissed her. A moan rose in her throat, shocking her at the intensity of her reaction to Pug. Physical touching became the way to reach for a deeper intimacy, a joining of hearts.
He moved between her legs, his bulging manhood touching her. He filled her slowly until she thought she would burst. Hard and hot, he moved within her and the need she felt drove her wild. She arched against him, tugging at his shoulders, her head thrashing with eagerness while her slender legs held him.
"Pug, please ..."
"I want you to need me, Crystal," he gasped.
"I do! Pug!"
"Ahhh, now, darlin' . . ."he said, and the slow strokes changed, spinning her senses in a giddy flight, driving her to frenzy and then to rapture. Pure ecstasy filled her and she cried out, dimly hearing his hoarse voice mingle with hers.
Pug's weight came down on her, crushing her into the soft, thick pile. Finally he turned on his side, still holding her to him, their legs entwined, their breathing slowly returning to normal. He brushed damp hair away from her face and she opened her eyes to gaze into blue the color of a summer sky.
"Witch, angel, foxy lady, friend, whatever you are, Crystal Barnett, I want you badly. Your heart is so big, darlin'." His husky voice stroked her along with his hand.
She touched his mouth lightly with her fingertips. Her heart was humming with pleasure over his words, yet logic asked her if he said it out of euphoria from lovemaking—or from real need?
They held each other in satisfied silence until she finally said, "So much for learning to cook."
"Just put your mind on what you're doing," he drawled, "and you can cook as well as the next person."
She ran her fingertips along his thigh. She couldn't keep her hands off him. She wanted to touch and touch.
"What're you doing?" he asked lazily.
"Putting my mind on something."
He laughed softly. "Told you that's all it takes." He raised up on one elbow. "You can always make me laugh."
"Thanks," she said dryly.
"I mean it, darlin'. You're fun."
She tugged at his golden hair, which gave him such a vagabond appearance. "I'm easy to please."
"Oh? We'll see how easy. How about this?" His hand touched her breast. "Or this?" His leg moved higher between hers, a pressure that made her gasp and twist closer. "Does that please you?" he asked, and became solemn, his breath catching. And then she was in his arms, her fingers touching across his broad back as he kissed her and kissed her.
At half-past five Pug picked his watch up from the floor and glanced at it.
"Think we ought to go home?"
"Oh, my goodness! Look at the time! Pug, what'll I do? They'll want to know all about my cooking lesson and what I learned. And it's not funny!" she snapped, but she couldn't suppress a giggle as she met his irrepressible grin.
"We'll take so many goodies home, they won't ask about lessons."
She touched his dimple. "You're cute."
"Oh, no! Not cute!"
"Okay, sexy, arrogant, ornery."
"That's better than cute."

"What will I tell them I learned to cook? And don't give me one of your raunchy suggestions."
"Who? Me? Raunchy suggestions?" Blond eyebrows arched with innocence.
"Right!" she said as she tugged on her clothes.
"There's a bathroom to your right. You know, darlin', the more you pull on, the more I want to reach over and take those clothes off again."
She batted his hand away. "We have to go home."
"Uh-huh."
"Pug!"
"Ummm, how nice you smell, Crystal. How practical you are."
"Pug, I can't think, much less get my skirt on."
"You don't say," he murmured as he buried his face against her neck, nudging aside locks of hair.
The next time they checked Pug's watch it was half-past seven. Crystal gathered her things, moved away from him, and dressed with her back to him.
"Now we have to go home," she said sternly.
"Why the sudden maidenly modesty, Crystal?" he asked with laughter in his voice.
"Because"—she pulled on her skirt and fastened it—"if I turn around and look at you, we might not go"
"Crystal, darlin'," he coaxed.
"I'll dress in the bathroom!" she said, and left the office, closing the door on his laughter.
The rest of that night and all of the next day were both bliss and agony for Crystal. It was wonderful to be near Pug, to hear his voice, his laugh, to gaze into his blue eyes. But it was torment not to be able to be held in his arms, to kiss his marvelous mouth. With Gramps and the boys always around and seeming to watch avidly everything she and Pug did, though, she was careful to keep her distance from Pug. Still, that didn't keep her from melting every time he sent her one of his smoldering glances.
After dinner Sunday night she was sitting in the main cabin, helping Pete with his homework, but her mind was only half on the math problems spread before her. She couldn't put aside a persistent, nagging question—what was Pug's past work? Why did he hide it? She pointed to a problem. "Do you understand how to do that one?"
"Yeah," Pete said, running his fingers through his hair.
Thinking about Pug's smile and his clear blue eyes, Crystal sighed. Then the little demons of curiosity stirred again. She gazed into space and bit her lip, then finally turned around. Gramps was sitting with the paper on his lap, watching Jedy stack blocks.
"Gramps, has Pug told you what job he had before he opened the Cookery?" she asked in a low voice.
"No," he said, peering at her as he removed his pipe from his mouth. "But I'd let a man's past alone. He's earning an honest living now."
Her worries mushroomed. "You do know something!"
"No, I don't. And I don't want to ask too much, because he has a nice little business and the past is past." His jaw thrust forward and she knew he didn't want to unearth a flaw that might make Pug less appealing.
"He told me he did a little of this and a little of that," Jedy said. "Whatever that means."
"Doesn't mean anything," Pete said.
"Well, it might." Jedy raised his chin defiantly.

"Forget it, Crystal," Gramps said.
"I haven't know him long, and he won't come right out and say what he did. You know that's strange!"
"Pshaw! Man was an orphan, footloose. Let it be."
"Well, I'm not sure I can trust a man whose past is a dark secret!"
"Crystal, you're my own flesh and blood, but you can be so damned obstinate!"
"Aren't you taking a lot on faith? Just because he can cook and has a nice smile and acts pleasant doesn't mean there isn't something in his background that might be undesirable. Pug Moffitt is hiding something."
"Did I hear my name called?" Pug asked as he entered the cabin. He stood with his feet apart, his hands hooked into his faded jeans, a rumpled blue sweater making his eyes appear a deeper shade of blue.
Four heads turned to look at him.
"Crystal's helping Pete with his homework," Gramps said hastily. "She has a real head for figures."
"So I've heard. Maybe you'd like to help me next. I brought the books home from the Cookery."
"Sure."
"Well, that's great," Gramps said. "Crystal has a degree in accounting. Doesn't use it, though."
Crystal stared at Pug and he raised his brows questioningly. It was now or never as far as she was concerned.
"Pug-"
"Whoo, Crystal! Read the comics," Gramps said. "Here's a good one."

"I will in a minute. Pug, none of us knows what work you did before you opened the Cookery."
There, it was said. And his reaction was instantaneous. Red started in his throat, washed into his cheeks and up to his hairline, then he started toward the galley.
"Oh, that!" he said. "It isn't worth a conversation. I might bake some brownies."
"Yum!" Jedy said.
"Great idea!" Gramps said. "Brownies and maybe a little hot chocolate." He rattled the paper and put his pipe between his teeth.
"Pug, it is worth a conversation. What was your last job?" Crystal persisted.
He disappeared into the galley as he said, "A little of this and that. . . mmmmm ..." His voice trailed off into an unintelligible murmur.
He had been into something illegal! Crystal thought, her heart pounding. It had to have been something dreadful for him to hide it and blush and evade all of their questions.
"Crystal, you ought to see what Jedy made in kindergarten last week," Gramps said.
"I saw the sack puppet. It was cute. Jedy and I played with it when I came home from the store Friday." Crystal walked to the galley and stopped in the doorway with her arms folded. "I didn't hear you a minute ago."
"Crystal, leave the man alone!" Gramps said loudly.
Pug grinned, but it faded as he looked into Crystal's eyes. "I did honest work, but I don't like to talk about it."
He pulled open a cabinet and moved pots, banging them together before he closed the door and reached for the flour.
"Why can't you talk about it?"
"Great day in the morning! Fire! Fire!" Gramps yelped. The boys shouted and jumped up, and Crystal turned to see a piece of paper blazing in an ashtray. Pug passed her, snatched the paper up, and stepped out onto the deck to pitch it overboard.
Both boys looked at the floor and Jedy had his hand over his mouth as if to smother laughter.
"Gramps, you set that paper on fire to get Pug off the hook!" Crystal said.
Gramps looked at his lap, studiously brushing at invisible lint. "Now, Crystal, a spark from my pipe set it off."
"You'd risk another fire to help Pug avoid confessing what he's hiding! Do you know—" She bit off her words, looking down at the boys. She marched outside and hugged her arms to her body as the chilly November wind nipped at her. Pug was sitting in the bow, his arms on the rail. She went to lean against the rail and face him.
"What did you do?"
He stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. "You're freezing."
"And waiting—if I turn to solid ice—until you answer me."
He took a deep breath. "Darlin', I owned a hmrmmmph." His voice died away on the last word.
"You owned a what?" She felt chilled to the bone, and it wasn't from the wind.
He looked as if he had to tell her he'd owned a den of vice. Suddenly she didn't want to know. It wouldn't stop what she felt for him.

"Crystal, please understand. It doesn't mean anything now. I owned—"
Her fingers covered his mouth. "Don't say it." He blinked at her. "You don't have to tell me if you'll answer one question. Whatever you owned or did for employment—is it completely over now?"
She lowered her hand. He looked at her solemnly while he raised his right hand. "I swear, Crystal, I'm out of all businesses except gourmet food. I don't own the business I used to, I have no connections with it."
She let out her breath and gazed back at him just as solemnly. Was he telling the truth? He owned an expensive boat, had a business that would take a hefty investment, drove a fancy car. Could the Cookery support such a style of living? And could she stop worrying about his past—forget it and never look back? Why wouldn't he trust her enough to tell her? Would it change the way she felt for him?
"I hope you mean it," she said. "I'm pretty gullible where my heart is concerned."
Out came his big grin and she felt better. "I mean it," he said emphatically.
She prayed that her instincts were correct. Pug Moffitt didn't look as if he had a dishonest bone in his body. The nagging little doubts that had been fluttering in her thoughts were stuffed into a mental box and the lid locked on them.
"Thanks, darlin', for your trust." He pulled her to him and hugged her, and she wondered if she would feel the same if she knew the truth.
"Let's go bake brownies and then you can look at my . . . books."
        She laughed as they entered the cabin. 
The next week passed quickly. Except for her unfulfilled desire for Pug, her yearning for him as she lay alone in his big bed, Crystal had never been so happy. The workmen were repairing the house, getting it ready for their return. She took pictures of Pug, of the Jena, of Gramps and the boys on the Jena. And on Friday night she had a dinner date with Pug.
It seemed special because it would be the last night before she moved back to her house, so she dressed with care. She wore a simple black wool dress, high-heeled black pumps, and let her hair hang free down her back. When she was ready, she went to find Gramps and the boys. She knew that her announcement would be grim news.
"How pretty you look, Crystal," Gramps said when she stepped into the main cabin.
Pug stood up and she momentarily forgot everything else. He was wearing a charcoal suit, a gray silk tie, and a white shirt—and the effect made her knees weak. He was so handsome! He smiled, his dimples appearing, his teeth as white as his shirt.
Jedy came over and held up his hands. "You look pretty."
She reached down and picked him up.
"Jedy, you may be sticky," Gramps said.
"He's all right," Crystal said. "You be a good boy and go to bed when Gramps says to, and brush your teeth and pick up your toys. Okay?"
"Yes, ma'am. You smell sweet. So does Pug. But you're sweeter."
She glanced across the room into laughing blue eyes. " 'Night, Jedy. Pete, you get your homework done, and to bed with you at nine o'clock. You can read thirty minutes, then lights out."
"Gramps will tell me."
"Nine o'clock, Pete. Gramps may fall asleep before then."
"Aw, gee."
"One bit of news. I talked to the workmen today," she said. "The house is ready and we'll move back tomorrow."
"Oh, no!" Pete exclaimed, shoving away a book. "Pug was gonna take me fishing tomorrow evening."
"We can still go fishing," Pug said.
"This boat's fun," Jedy said wistfully.
"I know, Jedy, but this is Pug's home and we belong at our house."
"Tomorrow, Crystal?" Gramps said.
"That's right. In the morning," she said firmly, sure that Gramps's mind was already delving into ways to prolong their stay. He studied his pipe intently.
"Ready?" Pug asked, and held up her coat. " 'Night, folks," he said, and they stepped outside.
"Mmmm, you look beautiful," he said as he pulled her close.
"Thank you. You look pouffy."
"I seem to remember that's good."
"It's better than good. And you smell so sweet!"
"But not as sweet as you, Aunt Crystal!" They laughed and locked arms as they walked to the car.
When they were settled, he asked, "Want to skip dinner and go somewhere really alone?"
Her heart jumped. "Sounds nice, but dinner is a wiser choice."
"I don't think so."

"Pug. . ."
He laughed. "All right. Crystal, but I have to stop one minute by the store. I forgot to check on the temperature of the refrigerator today after the repairman was there."
She didn't say anything, but just smiled. She studied his thick golden wind-tousled hair and knew that she loved him. There was no time before Pug Moffitt, there would be nothing after. She wanted to reach up and touch his cheek, but he was concentrating on his driving and it would only stir up another argument about their destination.
As the wind whirled brown leaves across the asphalt in front of them, Pug turned the car into the dark alley behind the Cookery and stopped beneath a yellow circle of light at the back door. When he opened her door, she said, "I'll wait in the car."
"No way. I get one kiss."
"No way. We would never stop with one kiss. My stomach is protesting in hunger. It hasn't been fed since breakfast."
"Come with me, stomach. I'll stop the protests." He reached an arm around her waist and pulled her up.
Suddenly a deep voice said, "Mister ..."

Eight
Pug straightened swiftly and turned. A man was standing in the shadows, his hands thrust into his pockets. He cleared his throat.
"Mr. Moffitt?"
"That's right."
"I'm Simpson Wilks. I'm the man who came in Halloween night." He held out his hand and Pug shook it. "I wanted to come by and thank you, sir," Simpson continued. "I got a job at Charlie's, that place you told me about." He smoothed one hand on his blue jeans, and Crystal finally recognized him. While his black hair was still in disarray, he was clean-shaven and neatly dressed in a white shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket. 132

"I'm glad to hear about the job," Pug said. "And I appreciate you coming by to tell me."
"Yes, sir. I started washing dishes. Now I'm cooking. I'll always be indebted to you, Mr. Moffitt."
"All I did was give you a phone number. Simpson, this is Miss Barnett. Simpson Wilks."
" 'Evening, miss." Simpson lowered his voice and winked at Pug. "I see you took my advice too."
"How's that?"
Simpson glanced at Crystal. "Different woman," he whispered. "Damned different. Big improvement, if you don't mind my opinion." While Pug grinned, Simpson raised his voice to normal level. "Well, I'll run along. I owe you something. If I can ever do a favor, you just let me know."
"Thanks." Pug tilted his head to one side and his voice held a note of wariness. "Were you just standing around here waiting in case I showed up? The store's closed at night."
"Oh, no! I rent a little room down the alley. Ain't much, but it's a roof over my head. I come and go up and down this alley every day, but I haven't had time to stop, or you're busy or gone ..."
"I see. Well, come in sometime."
"I will. Trying to talk the boss into buying some things from your store. It would help the menu. So long, Mr. Moffitt, Miss Barnett." He disappeared down the alley.
Pug reached down and pulled Crystal to her feet. "Ah, Miss Improved Woman."
She laughed as they went into the Cookery. "You should've told him the truth."
"He wouldn't have believed me. Your skin's not green."
"Isn't that nice he has a job!"
"Yep. Must have a crummy place to live, though, but one thing at a time."
"I hate it when you get that tone of voice," she said urgently as the back door swung shut behind them.
"What tone?"
"So gruff. Is it because of. . . what's past?"
"I suppose. Now, Improved Woman ..."
"I don't look that different."
"That's what you think," he whispered before he kissed her throat.
Releasing her, Pug flipped a switch and a soft amber glow from hanging lanterns illuminated the hall, shining on the rough pine walls. Faint smells of the day—peppers, onions, a tang of garlic—lingered in the air, making Crystal's mouth water. Across the room Pug turned, a smile curving his full lips.
"I have everything delicious to eat here. I can cook and we can really eat in privacy. We haven't since that first night."
She nodded, aching to cross the kitchen and step into his arms again. "I'll help."
"Not in that dress." He pulled out a chair and waited.
"Pug, I can help—"
"Let me cook, Crystal," he said huskily, and she sat down. His fingers brushed across the soft hair on the nape of her neck as he moved away, his body a fluid motion of muscle and bone that held her attention.
He disappeared into the walk-in refrigerator, reappeared with a chilled bottle of champagne. He placed it in a silver bucket of ice, produced two thick red candles and a blue-checkered tablecloth, which he whisked over the worktable where Crystal was seated. She watched him, studying his strong wrists with their golden hairs, and felt drawn to him as a moth to flame. She longed to touch his hand, to close her fingers around his wrist and feel the firm strength there.
The pop of the champagne cork was loud in the quiet kitchen. Within minutes there was pale golden wine bubbling in crystal glasses, orange flames dancing above two candles, the oven glowing with a yellow light while a casserole baked. The aroma of bubbly cheese and thick creamy sauce filled the kitchen, assailing Crystal's senses, but the tempting smells, the intoxicating champagne, were whispery shadows in her consciousness. Her attention was focused on Pug. His big tanned hand held hers, his thumb tracing invisible patterns over her wrist while his blue eyes sent silent messages. He had removed his coat and tie, rolled up his sleeves, and the flickering candlelight sent dancing shadows over his white shirt. His physical presence was the greatest pull on her senses, as if she needed to draw closer to him to breathe.
Pug pushed away his chair, unfolding his long legs, and stood up to serve dinner. When Crystal started to help, he stopped her.
"Let me do this," he said softly, and she settled back to enjoy watching him while he moved around the kitchen.
When he sat back down across from her, she inhaled deeply the enticing aroma of steaming cheese sauce with Gulf shrimp and clams over fluffy white rice. A loaf of homemade bread, baked earlier in the day, was heated and buttered and a pot of coffee was perking on the counter.

Crystal hadn't eaten since breakfast because she had been so busy at the paint store, and each morsel now was delicious. Yet beneath the satisfaction of delectable shrimp and rice was a current of excitement that tingled each time she clashed with Pug's wide blue eyes. His white teeth sank into a fat shrimp, his blond lashes coming down to shadow his cheeks, then rising again. In the depths of his eyes, emotions shifted like the flickering candlelight. She detected amusement, challenge, a hunger that dinner wouldn't satisfy.
Finally she placed her fork on her plate, lifted her glass of champagne, and sipped, waiting breathlessly because she saw the tempting promise in his eyes.
"You didn't eat much," he said.
"All I could. My appetite fled." The words were hushed as she felt suspended in time. Anticipation was exhilarating and she relished it. "Without a doubt, you're the best cook ever!" Her voice lowered to a raspy note.
"This cooking can be yours for life, darlin'," he said huskily.
Her eyes flew open as his chair scraped on the floor, and she watched him walk around the table. Each step made her pulse pound. He picked her up, sat down, settled her against his broad chest, and gazed into her eyes. "Will you marry me, Crystal?"
Her heart jumped and skittered, and she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. Pug's arms tightened, crushing her momentarily. When he pulled back, his eyes were questioning.
"I love you," she whispered, and touched his firm jaw, trailing her hand to his ear, upward to curl a soft lock of hair around her finger. "There are so many problems. I have a built-in family."
"I love your family."
"I know you love the boys and they love you, but I have Gramps. And Aunt Valenta."
"We'll work it out. The first night you came in here, you said you wanted to get married."
She felt drawn to him as if he were taking her soul captive. "There are so many obstacles. And we've only known each other since Halloween."
"That's long enough. I'll be as dull and reliable as the ground beneath this building."
Every time she started to say yes, questions stopped her. All the complications with her family, the uncertainty over Pug's lifestyle. Her heart felt sure; her mind didn't. She touched a tuft of golden hair at the neck of his shirt. As she talked, she idly unbuttoned the second button of his shirt.
"Let me wait just a little while to feel. . . more certain. Jedy, Pete, and Gramps are all pushing me to marry you. We live on your boat. I can't think straight."
"Maybe you shouldn't think at all." He leaned forward to let his warm breath tickle her throat as his lips lightly grazed her flesh. "Go with your heart, Crystal."
"I'm in love, but marriage is forever. I want to be so sure. And I don't know what to do with my family. Don't rush me," she whispered as she kissed the thick vein that pulsed strongly above his collarbone. "I can't—"
His lips stopped her answer. Her heart was racing with need for him and she wanted to say yes without a thought to the dilemmas.

He raised his head, his breathing ragged. "Darlin', there has to be only one answer. I'll wait—awhile." His strong arms tightened and her jumbled thoughts faded to oblivion.
At midnight, when they reached the dock, Crystal's arm was around Pug's waist, his arm around hers. Their legs moved in unison down the steps to the dock. There Pug halted, pulling her up short.
"What the hell?" he muttered.
She looked up in surprise, then followed his gaze to the dark river, the wide expanse of water at the end of the dock. She turned to ice. "Where's your boat?"
"That's what I wondered." They both looked downriver, but it wasn't in sight.
"Do you suppose Gramps . . . Oh, no!"
"Let's go. We'll call the authorities."
"How far can he go?"
"Hell's bells, this is the Catoosa Waterway. He can navigate to New Orleans, to the Gulf..."
"Oh, my word! The boys—" She bit off the words as they rushed back to the car.
"Has he ever sailed? Does he know anything about boats?"
"Not that I know of."
"Crystal." Pug took her hand. "Don't conjure up calamity. This is an easy-flowing river for miles and miles and the Jena is a big boat. They're not in New Orleans or the Gulf—they can't be far in this short time. Let me do the worrying."
She nodded, but another fear arose. "They may be all right, but what about your boat?"
"I'm here, darlin', dull and reliable. I'll worry for both of us."

She smiled. "I'll try to let you, but it isn't easy."
He sped along the road and whipped into a small convenience store. His long legs swiftly covered the distance to a phone, and he looked up a number and called someone.
Crystal tried to take his advice, but it was impossible to forget her worries. What had Gramps done? She could imagine him trying to pilot the boat, wanting to try to navigate the river. She groaned softly as she watched Pug standing beneath the neon lights. His broad shoulders were resting against the wall of the store, his long legs planted apart, one hand hooked in his belt. After a few minutes he hung up the phone and rushed back to the car.
"I told you not to worry," he said. "They're fine."
"You know where they are?"
"They ran aground about two miles downriver. Gramps flagged down a fisherman, who went for help."
"Thank goodness!"
"We'll go get them."
"I feel terrible because I should have guessed Gramps would try to sail your boat."
"Forget it. It's not your fault and soon he'll be my relative too."
"You still want us?"
The car whipped to the side of the road with such a jerk it flung her toward him. He reached over the shift to hug her neck tightly. "Does that answer your question?"
"You are as unpredictable as Gramps," she said evenly.
"Not so, my dear. All I did was answer your question." She gazed into his eyes and had to smile.

An hour later her cheer faded as she stood on the bank and looked at Pug's boat. It was riding so low in the water, it looked as if it would be swamped momentarily and sink out of sight. Another boat maneuvered close to it, and Pug worked with two other men to secure the Jena to be towed away for repair. He was wearing someone else's fleece jacket and had pulled on an old pair of western boots, tucking his suit pants into them.
As he worked and called orders and Crystal watched his agile movements and the lithe fitness of his body, her thoughts whirled like an eddy in the river current. What would she do about her family? Would Pug be just as unpredictable as they were? Would it matter? He jumped nimbly from one boat to the other, his long legs stretching out. He and the other men tugged on a rope and she could imagine his muscles beneath the jacket, remembering the hard band of his arms when he lifted her.
A cold wind battered her and she shivered, yet inside her heart there was a warm glow that wind couldn't chill. Over and over the happy song ran through her mind: He wants to marry me!
"You should've seen us sail it, Aunt Crystal!"
"Jedy," Gramps said. "Shh!"
"Did you have fun, Jedy?"
"Yes, ma'am! We went this way and that way." He waved his hand in the air. "We bumped a log and passed a boat and they honked and shouted and waved at us."
"Maybe we should hear about it later," Gramps said.
"It was fun!"

"Sure was," Pete said. "We were helping with the sails until Jedy almost fell overbo—"
"I'm really hungry and tired and it's cold in the wind," Gramps said.
"Jedy almost fell into the river?" Crystal asked. Her hands became icy at the thought.
"Yep, the boat leaned over and I lost my balance."
"Oh, Jedy! Gramps—"
"I didn't fall in, Aunt Crystal. Gramps and Pete caught my jacket and hauled me back on board."
"I have to get the boys out of this wind, Crystal," Gramps said quickly.
She sighed and gave a swift prayer of thanks that all three were safe. She pointed behind them. "Pug said one of the men will drive you home in that black pickup. Why don't you wait inside?"
"Here comes Pug," Jedy said.
She turned to see him scramble up the bank, brushing his hands off lightly.
"She's hooked up and they'll tow her in for repairs," he said.
"I'm sorry, Pug," Gramps said.
"Forget it. Sometime we'll sail her together."
"Will we stay at our house tonight?" Pete asked.
"Yes," Crystal answered. "It's one in the morning. Good thing there's no school tomorrow."
"Until your boat's repaired, Pug, you might as well stay with us," Gramps said. "We have lots of room."
Crystal turned around to stare at Gramps, and suddenly wondered if he had grounded the boat deliberately to get Pug to stay with them.
"You going to marry Aunt Crystal?" Jedy asked.
"Jedy!" Crystal said, wondering what had prompted his question.

He frowned and she was sorry immediately for the sharpness in her tone.
"I've asked her," Pug said softly.
"Saints—" Gramps started to shout with glee, but Crystal interrupted him promptly.
"And I haven't given him an answer!"
"You haven't?" Pete, Jedy, and Gramps asked at the same time.
Pug groaned. "Look, men. Let the lady make up her mind."
She blushed and raised her chin. "It's difficult to think things through when you're living away from home and people are pressuring you to do something." She looked directly at Gramps.
"What's she talking about?" Jedy whispered to Pete.
"Dunno. Grown-up stuff. You know how Aunt Crystal is."
"Pete, I heard that."
"Well, Gramps said you get things stuck in your noggin—"
"Welcome to the family," Gramps said, grabbing Pug's hand and shaking it vigorously. "Crystal has a head on her shoulders. I know what her answer will be."
"Thank you, sir. I hope so."
"Please marry him, Aunt Crystal," Jedy said. "Pug's neat."
"I'm thinking about it." She glared at Pug and wished he had kept quiet.
"Yeah, please, Aunt Crystal."
"Hey, guys," Pug said with laughter. "Let me win her over. I don't want a wife who married me because of little imps talking her into it."

"What's an imp?" Jedy asked.
"A little elf," Pete said disgustedly.
"It's also guys who are up to a bit of mischief," Pug said, and winked at Pete, who brightened.
"It's late," Gramps said. "We should start home. I'm tired and my legs hurt."
In the Barnett house, the effects of the fire were gone. The living room was filled with comfortable overstuffed chairs, a thick beige carpet, a burnished mahogany grand piano. Both boys dashed upstairs, switching on lights as they went. The adults went to look at the new kitchen, designed by Crystal. It was a cheery yellow with white curtains, a round oak table, and gleaming new appliances.
"It's nice, Crystal. Fine job," Gramps said. He turned to go. "Pug can have Dan's room."
"Thank you, sir."
"I'm sorry about your boat. I'll pay for the repairs."
"Don't worry about it. The insurance will take care of it."
"Aunt Valenta will be home tomorrow, Gramps," Crystal said.
"Good. 'Night, young'uns."
As soon as Gramps had stepped out of the kitchen, Pug slipped an arm around Crystal's waist.
"I'll go upstairs and get towels for you," she said.
"No. I'm staying somewhere else tonight."
"There's no need—"
"Oh, yes, there is. I'm staying somewhere else so you and I can try to have a normal relationship."
"It's a little like locking the barn door after the hay is stolen."

"I think it was a horse." Something scraped in the next room, then everything became silent.
"I don't mind if you stay here. Pug, if we marry, I can't leave them. You'll have to move in here."
"We'll work out the little details without any difficulty."
"Little details are like little drops of water. They can turn into a flood and disaster."
"Shh, Crystal. I want you. I love you, your family, your house . . . everything."
"You'll move in here?"
"I didn't say that. Let me think it over."
Her spirits drooped because she didn't think Pug would move into her house. His lifestyle was too flamboyant, too freewheeling to be encumbered by so many helpless people.
" 'Night, darlin'."
"Where'll you go?" she asked, holding his arms.
He shrugged. "The Sheraton . . . anywhere."
"That's silly when we stayed so long with you." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Stay here until your boat's fixed."
He chuckled softly. "Unfair tactics. Wasn't that what you accused me of using?"
She kissed his jaw. "I don't remember."
"Crystal!" He unwound her arms. "Do you want me to carry you up to my bed?"
"Well. . ."
He laughed. "If I tried, you'd bring the house down around my neck. Stop teasing me."
"Will you stay?"
"Darlin', I'll do anything you want," he drawled.
"I know better than that!" she snapped, but they both laughed.

"Shall we lock up and turn out the lights?" "Hmmm," she murmured, moving close as he slipped his arm around her waist.
They all slept late on Saturday, then spent part of the day moving the Barnetts' things from Pug's boat back to their house. The boys played with friends all afternoon; Aunt Valenta returned home, took one look at Pug, and disappeared into the attic; and Pug made them a delicious dinner. His proposal to Crystal was never discussed. Later that night, as they were all sitting in the living room, Crystal found herself unable to concentrate on the book she was reading. Instead she kept looking at Pug, thinking about marrying him, and how he'd looked much more natural aboard his boat than he did in her family's living room.
Sunday morning they all went to church, then Pug broiled steaks. After dinner, he changed into a gray wool shirt and jeans and settled to work on his bookkeeping for the Cookery. Upstairs, Crystal pinned her hair up on her head, pulled on a wine-colored sweater and jeans, and went down to make a pot of coffee, tiptoeing past Pug as he worked at the kitchen table. She had spent almost every waking moment since Friday night mulling over her answer to his proposal. The answer was yes, but always, the moment she thought yes, she wondered what she would do about her family.
Valenta came into the room, skirting Pug, her black slacks and sweater making her look like a dark shadow.
"Aunt Valenta," Crystal said, "coffee will be ready soon. Would you like something to drink?"

Valenta shook her head. "I'm playing a game with Jedy." She took a pencil from a drawer and left the room.
Pug glanced over his shoulder. "That's the most I've ever heard her say."
"She loves the boys. I think she talks to them more than to anyone else."
"Is she afraid of me?"
Crystal shrugged. "I don't know. She's never around men much except Gramps."
"I can't get this balanced. Come here, brain, and see what you can do with it. I'll worry about the coffee."
She went to take his place, brushing against him, every inch of flesh a scalding touch. The urge grew stronger to say yes to his proposal, and worry about the problems later. When his eyes narrowed, she looked down hastily. "What's the trouble?"
He waved his hand. "See what you can find. I can't get the correct balance. This column should match the figures over here . . ."He leaned over her as he talked, and it was impossible to think of numbers when his hip touched her shoulder. The lemony odor of his clothing pulled at her senses and his fingers kept brushing hers.
Finally he moved away and she could get her mind on the page in front of her. Concentrating, she forgot about Pug and worked until everything balanced.
"Crystal."
Startled, she looked up to find him across from her, his chin in his hands, watching her.
"You know how to put your mind on some things. Do you know what time it is?"

She glanced at the windows. "Oh, my goodness, it's almost dark!"
"And time for you to stop. Pete wanted to show me something and one thing led to another or I would've rescued you long before now. I didn't mean to take your whole Sunday afternoon."
As if drawn by a magnetic force, she reached across the table to trail her fingers across his rough knuckles. "You didn't. I don't mind, and everything's in order." She turned the books for him to see.
Smiling, he asked, "How would you like another part-time job? Keeping the books for the Cookery?"
"You're kidding!"
"How's this for an income to start?" He wrote a figure in front of her.
Startled, she looked up. "That's a lot."
"It's a lot of work. Will you take the job?"
She glanced once more at the numbers he had written. "Sure, I will." She knew from the figures she had just balanced that he could afford to pay the sum.
"Great! Would you like coffee, new employee?"
"Yes, please." She watched him rise, jeans hugging tightly to his slender hips, the sweater swelling over his broad shoulders. Before he caught her studying him, she looked down at the set of books in front of her. She riffled the pages idly and a bunch of loose snapshots fell out of the back. She picked them up, started to tuck them into the book, and froze.

Nine
She picked up one of the photographs. It showed Pug in front of a circus tent. He was dressed in tights, his blond hair blowing in the wind.
"Here, Crystal, move ..."
She looked up and they gazed into each other's eyes.
"Where'd that come from?" he asked.
"It fell out of the book. This is why you wouldn't tell me. You owned—"
"A circus," he admitted grimly.
She had expected something criminal, and her emotions ran a gamut of change. Surprise, relief, dawning realization of why he had evaded her—and then dismay. Pug Moffitt was exactly like her family! 
"Now, Crystal, that was over three years ago. I sold it. I haven't been near one since. I have the Cookery—"
"You owned a circus! That's where you got the muscles! You traveled and performed, just like my parents and my sister and my brother—"
"I'm telling you, I've settled down!"
"What did you do with the circus besides own it? And don't say a 'little of this and a little of that'!"
His blue eyes darkened and he took a deep breath. "I've done a lot of things. I ran away from a foster home when I was fourteen—I was a big kid and looked older—and joined a circus. I did nearly every job. By the time I was twenty-four, I owned it. Jena had been in public relations, and after we married, she did the promotional work. I've been a flier—the trapeze—I had a lion-and-tiger act."
"Oh!" She pushed back her chair, walked to the window, and gazed outside. "From lions and tigers to crumpets and doughnuts!" She faced him angrily. "And where to next?"
"Don't lump me with your family, dammit! I can be just as much a Rock of Gibraltar as you can, Crystal."
"Oh, sure! You live on a boat, you could cut loose now and drift away from everything you have here! You've owned a circus, you own a gourmet food shop . . . You're just like the rest of them!"
"Why are we fighting?" he asked quietly.
She blinked back tears. "I told you that first night, I want someone steady and reliable around. I've had to put up with my family's wild antics since I was a baby. There's a point where it becomes a real task."
"I want to show you something, Crystal. Will you come with me?"

She drew a deep breath and saw such a desperate look on his face, she agreed. "All right."
"I'll get our coats."
Within minutes they were seated in his car and speeding down the street.
Feeling cold as the full realization about Pug's personality settled on her, Crystal clung to the door while he drove through Tulsa at a clip that should have brought a police siren wailing behind them. Finally Pug slowed and turned through the rock-walled entrance to a complex of new condominiums. They circled a splashing fountain and parked beneath a tall sycamore tree. He helped her out of the car, took her hand, and went to a door. Fishing a key from the pocket of his brown jacket, he unlocked the door, scooped her into his arms, and marched inside.
He kicked the door shut behind him and switched on a single lamp on the floor. The dim interior was silent except for their breathing. He strode through the entryway into a long, empty room. It had a massive stone fireplace set in a rock wall, three white walls, thick pale blue carpeting, and no furniture. He plunked her on her feet, opened her hand, and placed the key in her palm.
She looked at the new, shiny silver key, still warm from his fingers, then into his eyes, which had darkened with emotion.
"What's this?" she asked.
"It's your wedding present. I wanted it to be a surprise."
"What are you talking about?"
"I bought this for you. You said you've dreamed of a plain apartment."

"Oh, Pug!" Her throat constricted with a lump and tears stung her eyes.
"I didn't want to tell you or show it to you because, dammit, I wanted you to marry me, to love me no matter what I've done or where I'll be or whatever the hell comes up. There are four bedrooms, room for the boys and Gramps and Aunt Valenta, and a small room for your photography equipment. I didn't want this to be a bribe, but if you think I can't settle down—"
"Why are we fighting?" she asked in the same quiet tone he had used earlier.
He closed his mouth. His eyes narrowed and he peered at her intently. "Will you marry me, Crystal?" he asked huskily.
Tears fell over her cheeks and she didn't trust herself to speak. She nodded violently, then all breath was crushed out of her lungs by his strong arms. She raised her lips to his, to taste Pug's kiss, to press against his pounding heart and touch his golden, marvelous body. She felt at home, really at home.
"I love you," she whispered. "Thank you ..."
He kissed her cheek, her throat. "Now I'll never know whether it's me or this place you want."
"Maybe I can convince you which it is," she whispered, and trailed her fingers down his hip to his thigh.
"My little green-skinned witch! I need you more than you'll ever know. Welcome home, darlin'."
Two hours later, Crystal stirred and Pug's arms tightened around her. "I'd like to see the other rooms," she said.
He chuckled, a deep rumble in the dusky light of the living room. "Nope. Wait until we come back here as man and wife and I can carry you over the threshold of every room."
"That's corny and sweet and fine with me," she said contentedly.
"That's me. Sugar and corn. I guess I'll have to bake the wedding cake."
She rose up on an elbow and laughed. "Oh, yeah, dull man! You're about as dull as July sunshine."
He grinned. "I'm sturdy and dull and reliable and what flavor cake would you like?"
"Mmmm. I'd like chocolate with white icing. But you know I lost. I'll have to paint and paper."
"There are some other things you can do instead."
"What's that?" she asked with great innocence.
"I couldn't tell you the night we made the bet. You wouldn't have gone out with me again."
She laughed as he pulled her down. "I'll do them, every one. ..."
"Let's start now," he said, nuzzling her neck.
She straightened, laughing and pushing against his chest. "We better go home and break the news. Gramps's blood pressure will shoot up to the sky. Hell want the ceremony tomorrow."
Pug's fingers trailed lightly across her midriff with mild tickles. "So do I."
"We can't!"
"As soon as possible, darlin'." His arm tightened around her waist and he raised his head to kiss her. A date wasn't set.
In the car on the way home, Crystal said, "Pug, I dread this. You don't know how—"
"I do know how he is. Let him enjoy himself. Crystal."

Reason was returning to Crystal and bringing little worries about how they would manage everything.
"Pug, think of what you're getting into."
"We'll work it out. I love your family—except Valenta. I don't know her."
"You won't, either."
"She has one friend and the boys."
"Oh, yes. Actually she has two or three friends, but I think they're just like she is. They get together and one plays the guitar and the other two meditate."
"Drugs?"
"Goodness no! They're just a little far-out."
"Your family's my family."
She glanced at him and marveled that she was so fortunate to find a man with a heart big enough to love her family. He caught her glance and smiled at her, and she felt like singing. "Shall we tell them tonight or in the morning?" she asked.
"Tonight."
"Brace up, here comes jubilation in torrents."
He laughed and held her close as they marched up the steps to her house and into the living room. Pete was in pajamas, seated on the floor reading a book. Gramps was dozing in his armchair, slippered feet propped up, the newspaper draped across his lap. Pete saw them first.
"Hi, Aunt Crystal, Pug!"
"Eh?" Gramps sat up and pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "Oh, 'evening. Crystal, Pug. I dozed off."
They both stood grinning at him and he raised white eyebrows. "Sakes alive," he whispered. "You two look like the cats that ate the mice."

"We're going—" they both said at once, and stopped with a laugh.
"Whooie!" Gramps jumped up and tossed the paper into the air. "Hallelujah!"
"What's happening?" Pete asked.
"Aunt Crystal has agreed to marry me," Pug said.
"No kiddin'!" Pete jumped up as Gramps cavorted around the room. "Jedy!" Pete yelled. "Wake up. Aunt Crystal's getting married!"
Gramps shook Pug's hand and dashed into the kitchen while Jedy appeared in the doorway rubbing his eyes.
"What's the noise?"
"Aunt Crystal and Pug are getting married!" Pete announced gleefully. Jedy looked at Crystal, then at Pug, and a big grin spread across his face. He ran across the room and stopped in front of them.
"Are we gonna be a family?"
Pug swung him gently up into his arms. "Sure are, son."
Jedy wound his arms around Pug's neck and squeezed, and Crystal saw Pug swallow hard.
An explosion suddenly rocked the house, making Crystal jump.
"What the hell is that?" Pug snapped as another went off. Pete ran across the room toward the kitchen.
"Gramps's fireworks."
"Oh, my word!" Crystal said. "He'll burn down the house again." She ran after Pete.
When they stepped outside Gramps was far back in the yard. A flash of red streaked upward, burst with a bang, and bright red sparks danced briefly in the night sky.

"Gramps!" Crystal called. "For heaven's sake—"
"Leave him alone." Pug's hand closed firmly on Crystal's arm.
"It's against the law! He may set something on fire. And it's embarrassing. He's so jubilant to get me married—as if I'm a real handicap around here."
Pug's voice was filled with laughter as he drawled, "Darlin', I don't think he's celebrating because he's getting rid of you. I think he's overjoyed because he's acquired a cook."
"You going to cook for us always?" Jedy asked. He was standing beside Pug, holding his hand.
"Yep. And so will Aunt Crystal, because she's learning how to cook."
Crystal wrinkled her nose at him. Another burst of noise came from overhead and brilliant red, blue, and green sparks glittered and streaked earthward.
"Zowie! Look at that!" Pete yelled, jumping up and down. "Do another one, Gramps!" Next door, lights came on in upstairs windows, while in the distance a siren wailed.
"The police!" Crystal cried. "Pug, let me stop him."
Laughing, he placed Jedy's hand in hers. "I'll do it. You both wait here."
Pug started across the yard. Gramps saw him coming, scooped up an armful of firecrackers, and ran a little farther away to light one. Crystal shook her head.
Next door a window was raised and Harve Jones called, "What's going on over there?"
"Aunt Crystal's getting married!" Pete yelled.
"Pete, for heaven's sake!"
"Tonight?" Harve bellowed.

"No!" Crystal called, her face as red as the sparks in the sky. "It's Gramps, Harve."
"Tell him the wind is from the north. We don't want another fire!"
"We don't either."
Someone came around the corner of the house. Crystal turned to see Tom Larkin from across the street, two sleepy children in his arms.
"What's going on?" he asked. "Having a party? The kids want to watch the fireworks. It woke them up."
"Aunt Crystal's getting married," Jedy said proudly.
"Well, great. Crystal! Your grandfather won't know what to do without you. Do you mind if the family watches the fireworks?"
"No, I don't mind. Jedy, let's watch from inside."
"Oh-oh, Aunt Crystal. Here comes Miz Mankens."
"Jedy, let's go inside. Quickly." Crystal saw Gertie Mankens stomping toward them with little Fifi in her arms. Her white curls bobbed and her shawl flapped in the wind.
"Crystal Barnett, what's that old fool up to now? Trying to demolish the neighborhood?" Fifi snarled, her lip curling over sharp white teeth.
" 'Evening, Mrs. Mankens."
"Aunt Crystal's getting married," Jedy said.
"Hah! 'Bout time. Now you can get away from your grandfather's shenanigans! What's he up to?"
"He's celebrating," Jedy said.
"Well, fireworks are against the law and I called the police the minute he fired the first one! He's ruined Fifi's nerves."
"She still seems pretty fierce," Jedy said.
"Little boy, she is terrified of noise. And she hates grubby children." She walked a few yards nearer and shook her fist, screaming, "Mr. Barnett, you old coot!" She lowered her voice. "What's he doing?"
"Hey, look, Aunt Crystal. Gramps is running away from Pug."
Crystal turned to see Gramps dodge behind a tree. A spark ignited, and suddenly a flash of orange shot out from behind the tree at Pug.
"He's shooting fireworks at Pug!" Jedy said.
"Oh, no!" she moaned, watching with horror as the orange flash streaked only a few feet above the yard. Pug jumped out of its path, then Pete dodged as it sped toward the house.
"Run!" Crystal yelled, and grabbed Jedy's hand while Tom Larkin swore and scooped up his son and daughter. Gertie shrieked, clutching Fifi as she grabbed her skirt and rushed around the corner of the house. Jedy had a fit of laughter.
"Look at Miz Mankens run! Gramps must have shot at her! Ought to stir old Fifi's nerves to a storm."
"Jedy, don't laugh at Mrs. Mankens. She doesn't understand or like our family."
The orange sizzled and burst into a ball of shimmering sparks, then dropped into the dry grass.
"He's going to set everything on fire again!" Crystal muttered. "Jedy, run inside and call the fire department!" She turned on the garden hose and shot a spray of water on the sparks.
Mrs. Mankens stepped back in sight, shook her fist, and shouted, "You damned old codger! You nearly set Fifi on fire!"
Another flash of orange appeared, a streak that arced over the yard toward Mrs. Mankens. She screamed and bolted behind a nandina bush, shaking red berries off the branches. Fifi's barking mixed with the loud sound of a siren.
A spectacular spray of bright green and lavender sparks glittered high overhead. Suddenly the dry fall leaves on one of the oaks curled with fire, flames dancing upward.
Crystal looked on in helpless dismay as a police car shrieked to a stop in the yard. When two uniformed policemen came striding around a corner of the house, Mrs. Mankens hopped out from behind the bush.
"It took you long enough to get here!" she said. "Lollygagging on the way? Go get the scoundrel, officers! There he is!"
Fifi's shrill barking was constant. The moment the policemen appeared, she dashed out from behind the bush and bit the nearest officer. He swore and jumped, raising his foot. Fifi hung on tightly.
"Fifi! Don't you dare hurt her!"
Pug suddenly appeared beside Crystal. He scooped up Jedy, took Crystal's arm, and rushed them inside the house.
Once there, he closed the door, turned off the lights, and pulled the window shades. "Let's go," he said, and led them upstairs, turning out lights as he went. At the top of the steps, he headed toward Crystal's room. The moment they were inside, he leaned against the door and let the laughter come.
"It isn't funny," Crystal said limply.
"I'm sorry, but I couldn't catch him. And there's some little old lady in the neighborhood who infuriates him."
"Gertie Mankens. You saw her Halloween night."
"The one with the poodle?"

"Fifi."
"Gramps hates Fifi."
"It's mutual."
"Aunt Crystal," Jedy said from the window, "the tree's really on fire."
Another siren approached the house, then seconds after it stopped, Jedy said, "Here are the firemen."
"They may arrest Gramps. I suppose I should go downstairs and—"
"Oh, no! That's why I brought you up here." Pug held her arm firmly. "He started it, let him handle it."
"I don't want my grandfather to go to jail."
"I'll get him out on bond if he does. Let him straighten this out." He pulled her close and leaned his head against hers.
"Aunt Crystal," Jedy said, "Mrs. Mankens and Gramps and the police are in a fight."
"Mmmm." Crystal closed her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the enticing scent of spice that lingered on Pug's clothing.
Suddenly she heard a series of explosions and pops as glittering purple, blue, and green Roman candles flared and cherry bombs exploded. A bottle rocket sizzled past the window.
Jedy doubled over with laughter. "Everyone's running!"
"I didn't dream we'd have such a celebration," Pug murmured softly. "What a night to remember. I can't wait to see what he does for the wedding." He kissed her temple.
"You're right. You're reliable."
"And dull as—"
"My family."

Jedy's laughter interrupted them. "The police have Mrs. Mankens!"
"I ought to be down there."
"He loves it or he wouldn't keep doing things like this. Let him handle it, Crystal. We need you more."
"Mmmm."
"A week from today?"
Her eyes flew open. "What's a week from today?"
"Our wedding."
"I can't get ready that soon. And I should try to notify Mom and Dad. They might want to come for the wedding," she said dryly.
"What date?"
"How about December seventeenth? Then we can spend Christmas together."
"Good enough, darlin'. I can't wait."
"Aunt Crystal, the policeman has Gramps by the arm."
"I have to go."
"Nope. You let him deal with the authorities."
"Pug, he may need me."
"I seriously doubt it, and it's time he became a little more independent."
"Wow!" Jedy exclaimed.
"I'm afraid to ask," she whispered.
"Then don't." Pug lightly brushed his lips against a sensitive area beneath her ear, and she lost interest in what was happening outside.
They stood quietly a few more seconds until a door slammed downstairs.
"The policemen and Mrs. Mankens and Gramps and Pete and two of the firemen just went into the kitchen!" Jedy exclaimed. He crossed the room to them and gazed up expectantly. Pug scooped him up and held him and Crystal in the circle of his arms. Jedy yawned.
"It's past bedtime," Crystal said.
Small fingers twisted a lock of her brown hair. "Will you tell me a story?" Jedy asked.
"One story." She looked at Pug and smiled, happiness making her breathless. He winked before he turned to carry Jedy to bed.
While she told Jedy about the three bears, Pug sat nearby in a rocker, listening. Jedy was asleep before the story was over. Crystal tucked the covers around his thin shoulders and tiptoed out with Pug.
"Shall we join the party in the kitchen?" she asked.
"Sounds as if it's in full swing." They listened to voices and a man's deep laughter. The back door slammed and in seconds a motor started.
"Pug, I'm scared what my family will do at our wedding. Aurora's wedding was a carnival, with the press there to take Flip's picture."
"Don't worry, darlin'."
"You don't know—"
"After tonight? I do know."
"Shall we go down and see what happened?"
"I have a better idea." He drew her into the shadows of his room, closed the door, and wrapped his arms around her.
Two days later, Crystal drove home from the paint store. It was a late November day with brown, yellow, and red leaves clustered beneath trees and along curbs. Thick Bermuda-grass lawns had turned yellow. In spite of her red sweater, woolen skirt, and gray coat, the warmth of the car's heater was welcome. Her thoughts were on Pug until she arrived home. When she turned into the drive, a sleek gray Rolls-Royce blocked her way. For an instant she was puzzled, then her heart dropped.
She climbed out of her car and reached for the kitchen door with icy fingers. The sound of familiar voices came from the front room. She paused, gripping her stomach as she leaned against the kitchen counter. She closed her eyes tightly and took several deep breaths while she said a silent prayer for help to get through the next hours. Finally she raised her head, squared her shoulders, and went into the living room.
Jedy was sitting on the floor, an unwrapped package in front of him. Presents littered the room. Gramps sat scowling in his rocker. Aunt Valenta sat in a straight-backed chair in a corner, her hands folded primly as she stared into space, only the frown wrinkling her brow indicating her feelings. Pete was working the remote controls for a shiny toy car that raced across the floor while two smiling adults watched.
"Crystal, love!" Aurora's voice carried loudly as she crossed the room, looking as if she had stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine. Her black hair was swept away from her face in a mass of curls that appeared permanently windblown, and her emerald dress clung to her slender figure, molding sharply to her hipbones and shoulders. Lounging against the fireplace was a breathtakingly handsome blond man in tan suede slacks and a tan sweater. He straightened and watched as Aurora flung her arms around Crystal and presented her cheek for a kiss.
"Darling! It's been so long. I've come for the boys."

Ten
Crystal knew why Aurora was there, but hearing the words spoken was like a knife slicing into her heart. Her chest hurt and she couldn't face Jedy.
"Aunt Crystal, look at this neat car Dad brought me," Pete said. "And see this!" He ran around the sofa while Aurora stepped away, smiling at him. As Crystal crossed the room to Flip and extended her hand, there was a screech of tires in the driveway. She glanced through the window and saw Pug bound from his car and sprint across the lawn.
"Hello, Flip," she said. The words sounded stiff and wooden.
"Not a handshake from my sweet little sister-in-law," Flip said. He pulled her to him and tried to kiss her on the lips.
Crystal turned her head swiftly so the kiss landed on her cheek. As she straightened, Flip laughed.
"Same shy Crystal," he said.
She turned to find Pug standing inside the room, hands on his hips, watching them.
"Gramps called me," he said flatly.
"Pug, this is my sister Aurora and her husband, Flip Taylor. This is Pug Moffitt."
"I heard the news!" Aurora gushed. She crossed the room to Pug and stood on tiptoe with her hands on his shoulders. "I'm so thrilled that Crystal is getting married. My goodness, you're big! Welcome to the family." Aurora hugged him and kissed his cheek. A bored expression on his face, Flip crossed the room to shake hands.
"Toot, toot! Look out!" Pete shouted. He was sitting in a small, scaled-down version of a bright red convertible. "Hi, Pug! Look what Dad and Mom brought me. Jedy has his own." He drove around the room.
"Flip and I came at the right time with a wedding in the works," Aurora said breezily, plunking herself down on the sofa.
While Flip returned to his stance at the fireplace, Pug stared at Crystal. She turned away. If he showed one ounce of sympathy, she knew she would burst into tears. Her chest hurt, her throat hurt; she couldn't look at Pug or Gramps. Instead, she glanced at Jedy, who was staring forlornly at the unopened present.
"Open your other presents, boys," Aurora said. "Why, Jedediah, you haven't opened anything! Don't you like your presents?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"So solemn." Aurora leaned forward to pat his head. "Darling, Mommy and Daddy are here now and we'll be one big family again. We're taking you and Pierre to Greenland with us, where Daddy is filming. Won't that be fun?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Crystal took a deep breath. She tried to force her voice to sound normal, but it seemed hollow, as if she were a long distance away listening to herself talk. "What about school, Aurora?"
"We'll have a tutor if they need one."
"When do you leave? Can the boys stay for the wedding?"
Aurora laughed. "Darling, you've put up with the little r-a-s-c-a-1-s"—she spelled out the word in a loud whisper—"long enough! We've rented a suite at the Hilton and they can stay with us tonight. We'll fly back to Los Angeles tomorrow and Flip's chauffeur will drive the car back. We'll be out of your hair in no time."
"You're not in our hair," Crystal said. "I hoped the boys would be here for our wedding."
"You'll never miss them!"
"Jed, are you sick?" Flip asked. "I've never seen a kid who didn't want to open a present."
Jedy tugged at the paper, ran his hand across his eyes, and pulled some more at the wrappings. Crystal felt hot tears sting her own eyes. She reached down to scoop up some discarded wrapping paper.
Suddenly Valenta clutched her stomach and dashed from the room.
"What's wrong with Aunt Valenta?" Aurora asked.
Flip laughed abruptly. "No one can figure that woman out!"

"I'll fix coffee," Crystal said, feeling an urgency to get out of the stifling room.
"Have anything around stronger than coffee?" Flip asked.
"What would you like to drink?"
He crossed the room. "I'll mix it while you make coffee."
"I'll help," Pug said grimly, and followed them into the kitchen. Crystal opened a cabinet and stood on tiptoe to get a bottle of Scotch and another of bourbon. "This is all we have, Flip."
"That's all I need."
She picked up the canister with coffee and suddenly couldn't remember what she intended to do. She stood in the center of the kitchen gazing at the table, her mind a complete blank. Warm fingers removed the can from her hands.
"Sit down a minute, Crystal," Pug said. "I'll fix the coffee."
Flip sounded amused. "Oh, yes. The boys said you're a cook." He studied Pug, then in a bored, patronizing voice said, "You're the rugged type, lot of muscles. If you and Crystal want to tag along, I might get you a bit part. We need some brawn."
"Flip—" Crystal's anger and disgust momentarily outweighed her pain.
"That's all right, Crystal." Pug smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Taylor. I like to cook."
Flip shrugged. "Well, Crystal, I tried." He went back to the living room.
Without a word Crystal stood to follow him. Pug let her go and she was relieved because she was on the edge of losing her control. When she entered the living room, Jedy burst into tears and ran to her.

"I don't want to go, Aunt Crystal!"
Gramps jumped up and left while Aurora and Flip stared at their younger son.
Crystal didn't feel the hot tears that streaked down her face as she knelt and hugged Jedy.
"Oh, my!" Aurora said. "Isn't he dramatic? Gets it from his father, I suppose."
Crystal put her arm around Jedy's shoulders. "We'll be back in a minute," she said. Swiftly she propelled the boy into the kitchen.
Pug closed the door between the kitchen and the living room, leaving Crystal alone with Jedy. She sat down and Jedy climbed onto her lap and clung to her while they both cried.
"I don't want to go! I love you," he sobbed.
"Jedy ..." She held his frail body tightly, inhaling the scent of a little boy, of a corduroy shirt and soap and candy breath. For his sake, she knew she had to pull herself together. With the back of her hand she wiped her tears away.
"Jedy, you'll be back."
"I don't wanna go!"
"Honey, you'll see Greenland."
"It won't be as fun as here."
"It might be much more fun. Now, dry your tears and let's get our coats and go for a walk."
He shuddered and squeezed her tightly. "I don't wanna go!"
"Jedy, there are some things we have to do. We don't always have a choice."
He straightened, his hazel eyes wide and tear-filled. "Pug's nicer than Dad."
She brushed locks of brown hair off his forehead. "They're just different. They both love you."

"Pug loves me more. I can tell."
"They both love you. It may be easier for Pug to show it, but your father's nice and he loves you."
His small fingers touched her cheek. "I love you."
"Jedy..." She squeezed him, fighting her tears. "I love you too," she whispered, barely able to say the words. After a long silence she said, "Let's go for a walk."
Solemnly they pulled on their coats. At the door he paused to ask, "Should we tell them we're leaving?"
"No, we won't be gone long. Let's go look at the tree Gramps burned."
"Sure."
The cold November air stung her cheeks. Crystal gulped deeply, welcoming the chill as she held Jedy's hand and they crossed the yard, kicking up brown and yellow leaves. They stopped to study the oak with its charred branches thrust into the air. Jedy laughed. "Gramps is dangerous, isn't he?"
"Sometimes he is."
"Will you write to me? If you print, I can read it myself."
"Of course I will. And will you send me pictures?"
"Of Greenland?"
"No, of you and Pete."
"Sure."
"Let's gather some pretty leaves to take back. Here's a good one, Jedy." She stooped down to pick up a red leaf. A shadow fell across her hand and she looked up to see Pug standing beside them. The angry expression on his face made her heart lurch.
"Can I join you?" he asked, his voice normal despite the set of his jaw.
"Sure, we're hunting bright leaves."

"Well, here's a humdinger, as Gramps would say." Pug reached up, caught a branch of a maple tree, picked a red leaf, and handed it to Jedy.
"Wow! Look how red it is. Hey, see up there, Pug. Can you get that big yellow leaf?"
"That's too high," Crystal said when she spotted the pointed yellow leaf, but Pug grasped a limb and hoisted himself into the tree. He threw a long leg over a limb and his navy slacks pulled tautly across his hips.
"You don't need to climb the tree!" Crystal said. "There are yellow leaves all over the yard."
"This one's special."
"It may be," she muttered, "if you fall out and break a leg over it."
Jedy watched solemnly until Pug snapped off the leaf and let it flutter down. Eager hands caught it.
"Gee, that's great. Thanks!"
"Anytime you need a leaf. . ."He smiled at Crystal.
"I suppose we better go back. Ready?"
She took Jedy's hand and Pug walked beside them as they returned. They found Flip and Pete loading all the presents into the Rolls-Royce while Aurora and Gramps waited.
"Run pack your things, Jedediah," Aurora said. "We have to go. Crystal, can you box up the boys' things and send them later?"
"Yes."
"Good. Jedediah, just get enough for the next few days. Aunt Crystal will send the rest."
"Aurora, they can stay here tonight and pack—"
"I wouldn't think of it! We'll be a family again. First and foremost, I am a mother. Flip needs to know his sons. No, they can grab a few things and go with us now. We'll have tonight while we're here in Oklahoma where it's quiet. It'll be such a crush when we reach California."
"I'll see if I can help Jedy."
Within an hour the boys and the car were packed. For an instant everyone stood stiffly waiting to say good-bye. Aunt Valenta left quietly. Aurora and Flip said their farewells. Pete was solemn as he kissed Crystal and Gramps. He shook hands with Pug and bounded off the porch steps.
"Gramps ..." Jedy started crying and turned to hug Gramps.
"I'm gonna miss you, boy."
"Let's go," Flip said.
Jedy pulled away and threw his arms around Crystal with a sob.
"Jedy, be a little man," Flip said. "Men don't cry."
"This man does," Pug said grimly. Crystal saw his eyes become red as he clenched his fists. He scooped Jedy up and hugged him.
"You write, you hear!"
"Yes, sir, except I don't know how very well."
"Tell Pete to put down what you want to say," Pug said gruffly.
"Come along, Jedediah," Aurora called.
They piled into the car and backed down the drive. Gramps blew his nose and waved, then turned and went inside.
Crystal returned to the living room. "I guess I'll wash the cups," she said without seeing anything.
Strong arms scooped her up. She wrapped her arms around Pug's neck and let the tears come. As sobs shook her, she lost all awareness of anything except Pug's constant, strong arms holding her close to his heart.
"He didn't want to go," she said, her words muffled. "If I thought Aurora and Flip would really be good to them and care and love them, it wouldn't be quite as bad, but I'm so afraid they won't. ..."
She felt a shudder rack Pug and looked up to see him swiftly wipe tears away.
"Damn little kids wrap around your heart like chains," he whispered. They clung to each other like forlorn children while silence settled over the house.
Darkness enveloped them, but neither made a move to turn on a light. Crystal noticed they were sitting in the empty living room and wondered if Gramps and Valenta were both shut away, mourning the boys' absence too. She gulped a deep breath and felt Pug's arms tighten.
The doorbell jangled and they jumped slightly. Instantly her eyes flew wide open.
"Do you suppose they came back?"
"No, darlin'," he said gently. "I didn't hear a car. It's probably a neighbor."
She rose and straightened her clothing. "I look a fright."
"Best-looking fright I've ever seen, but I'll go if you want."
"Thanks."
She followed Pug to the door, heard him open it, and heard Simpson Wilks say, "Here I am, Mr. Moffitt!"

Eleven
"Well, that's nice," Pug said in puzzled tones.
Crystal rushed forward. "Come in, Mr. Wilks."
"Oh, you folks call me Simp. All my friends do."
"Pug, I was going to tell you—"
"Who is it, Crystal?"
She heard the hopeful note in Gramps's voice and knew he thought the boys might have returned.
"Come downstairs," she called, "I want you to meet someone."
She saw Pug waiting, a curious smile on his face.
"Won't you sit down, Simpson," she said.
"Simp, Miss Barnett."
Gramps appeared. His eyes were red and his white hair stood up in tufts as if he had been pulling his fingers through it. 172

"Gramps, I'd like you to meet Simpson Wilks. I've talked to him about moving in here while I'm away on my honeymoon. He works at Charlie's Chicken House, but if he lives here, he can cook for you and Aunt Valenta while I'm gone."
Pug's smile grew wider, and he winked, making her feel pleased that he liked the idea.
"You don't say," Gramps said coolly. "You know much about cooking?"
"Yes, sir. I'm the chef at Charlie's."
"Had Charlie's chicken last year," Gramps said, thrusting out his chin. "Got sick as a dog on it."
"I wasn't there last year. No one's been sick on my chicken."
"How'd you meet my granddaughter?"
"I really know Mr. Moffitt. I met him Halloween night."
"Same night he and Crystal met."
Simpson Wilks's fuzzy eyebrows arched. "You two met Halloween night?" He stared intently at Crystal.
"Did someone ring?" Valenta asked.
With a shock, Crystal saw Valenta's red eyes and realized she, too, had been crying over the boys.
"Aunt Valenta, this is Mr. Wilks."
"Just call me Simp."
Valenta drew herself up and shivered.
"He's gonna live here and cook, Valenta," Gramps said.
"I am?"
"Thought that's why you came."
"Oh, yeah. Didn't know if you wanted me."
"Why?" Valenta asked.
"I'll be gone on my honeymoon before long," Crystal said.

Valenta disappeared through a doorway.
"Quiet, ain't she?" Simpson said.
"Aunt Valenta doesn't talk to people except on rare occasions," Crystal said.
Simpson laughed. "Tonight's pretty rare. First time I've moved in here. Show me the kitchen and I'll get started."
"Now, just a minute," Gramps said.
"Let's give him a try, Gramps. I won't be here. Do you want to cook? Or have Aunt Valenta cook?"
Gramps closed his eyes. "Go on, Simp, give it your best."
"I'll show you the kitchen," Crystal said.
Two minutes after they sat down to eat, Crystal knew her worries were solved about the cooking in her absence. She didn't have any appetite, nor did Pug, but the crisp, golden chicken in front of them was perfect. Fluffy white potatoes were dotted with melting pats of yellow butter. Green peas and steamed orange carrots completed the meal. After two bites, Gramps cocked his head to one side.
"Simp, you're pretty good."
"Thanks, Mr. Barnett."
"Maybe Pug can give you a lesson or two before you go."
Valenta sat staring at her plate, not a bite touched. Simp reached over and clattered his knife on her glass, making her jump.
"Eat something," he said. "The peas are from Paraguay."
Valenta's brows rose, but she took a bite, then another.

"How'd you know where the peas came from?" Crystal asked.
Simp shrugged. "Could be Paraguay, Australia, Iowa, Texas ..."
"Got a point there," Gramps said.
"I haven't heard voices since the boys left," Valenta said, and every person at the table gave her complete attention.
"You hear voices too?" Simpson asked cheerfully.
"You do?" Valenta's dark eyes widened.
"Might be from the tavern next to my room."
Pug smiled and picked up his coffee cup, winking at Crystal while Gramps shook his head and reached for another piece of chicken.
Ten minutes after dinner, Crystal had a new set of worries as she hung up the phone. "Mom and Dad will be here for the wedding. They've already notified the press of their arrival in town."
"You sound like the voice of doom," Pug said, stretching out his long legs in the living-room chair.
"They're bringing eight people home with them. They'll have the television and newspaper people out here if they can. They are about as peaceful as Gramps. I'll be glad to see them, but they'll just rush in, stir up a fuss, and go. I wanted a nice, simple, something-to-treasure wedding."
"We'll work on it, Crystal. That was a great idea to hire Simpson Wilks," he said, giving her a hug. Suddenly she felt as if things might not be so bad after all.
Almost two weeks were left before the wedding. Simpson had moved into the house and begun to cook. Gradually Valenta had joined them more often for meals, even though she didn't eat more than a bite or two. Crystal had an assistant lined up to take over the paint store in her absence. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, but she was still nervous. She had Pug search the house and garage for any fireworks Gramps might have hidden. All he found was a box of hundreds of pink balloons she suspected Gramps intended to fill and set free.
Nevertheless she was convinced something disastrous would happen. Her parents were due to arrive in a few days, and Crystal spent most of her free time cleaning the house, fretting over details, and worrying that somehow, in the midst of all the confusion her family always generated, she wouldn't even get married.
Pug finally had had enough. One night he crept into her room while she was asleep and whispered her name.
She sat up sleepily, straightening her white cotton pajamas. "What?"
"Darlin', let's elope."
She blinked and sat up straighter. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she saw Pug beside the bed. He was dressed in a white shirt and dark suit. "Now?"
"Good a time as any. Get your things, Crystal, and let's have a nice, simple, something-to-treasure elopement."
Suddenly she ached to be in his arms, to have a quiet wedding, to start their life together. She pushed back the covers.
"I'll be dressed in three minutes."
"I'll time you." He sat down in the dark, moonbeams splashing through the window and over his charcoal suit, glistening brightly on his white shirt.

She stopped and drew in her breath as she looked intently at the handsome man waiting for her.
"What is it, Crystal?"
"I love you, Pug." She longed to throw herself into his arms—and did as he swiftly stood up.
Breathless from his kiss, she pulled away and looked up at him. "Three more minutes."
She rushed into the bathroom to shower quickly, then dressed in the ice-blue dress she had chosen.
"How much time?" she asked when she was ready.
"Five minutes."
"I dressed for my wedding in five minutes. Does that tell you something?"
He laughed. "Come on, Crystal."
"Pug, I hate to leave Gramps out."
"Let me worry for both of us, darlin'."
They pulled on their coats, climbed into his car, and drove to the church. The minister, his wife, and Gramps were waiting for them.
Crystal stretched, ran her hand across the bed, and sat up, looking around sleepily for Pug. Sunlight was streaming across the sandy beach and she could see the pale blue Gulf stretching away in the distance. Only yards away outside their cabin the soft lap of waves mingled with the occasional cry of a gull.
She turned to the bedroom door and saw Pug, wearing only jeans, enter the room. He stretched out beside her, his big body bronzed from days in the sun, his golden hair bleached the color of ripened wheat.
"Good morning, Mrs. Sleepyhead Moffitt."
"It's your fault I slept so late." Her blood heated as she looked at him, and she stroked his chest lightly.

"Want breakfast?"
"The chocolate cake you brought from the Cookery is delicious."
"Cake?"
"Mmmm, that's what I'd like for breakfast."
"Still wonder if you married me for my cooking."
"I might have. It wasn't for your dullness."
He chuckled and pulled her down in his arms. "We have a letter from Gramps."
"Read it to me. I'm preoccupied with other matters. " She twirled a lock of golden hair above his ear and he smiled as he unfolded the letter. " 'Dear Young'uns: How's the weather down there? It's windy and warm here. Tulips are beginning to bloom just since you left. Simp is going to help me fence the backyard and remodel the garage—' "
Crystal groaned and nestled her head against Pug's shoulder. "There goes the garage."
"Maybe not. Simpson is changing things around the old home place." Pug paused. "I can't call that man 'Simp.' "
"It's what he tells everyone to say."
Pug shook the letter. " 'Valenta goes to church on Sunday with Simp—' "
"What?" Crystal sat up.
Pug looked at her sternly. "It's damned difficult around here to just read a letter."
"Sorry." She settled down in the crook of his arm, running her hand across his broad chest.
" 'Valenta goes to church on Sunday with Simp. He plays the guitar there. Here too—while she meditates. She doesn't meditate so much any longer. Not since she started eating his cooking. He still can't cook as well as Pug . . .' " Pug lowered the letter. 'Maybe I need to hire him at the Cookery."
"I thought you wanted to just read a letter."
"Oh, yes. 'Valenta talks more now. Getting right friendly. Sometimes I think I liked her better the other way. A little quiet is nice.' "
Crystal sat up, jiggling the bed. "Do you suppose Valenta is in love with Simp?"
"Crystal, call him Simpson. I don't care what he said. Now, to try to finish the letter," Pug said firmly, and she sank down again.
" 'We had the tiniest little explosion in the backyard Tuesday. Don't get excited. I intended to blast a hole in that hard clay for a posthole for the new gate, but I put too much dynamite . . .' " Pug's voice trailed off.
"Don't stop now," Crystal said sternly.
"Hmmmrmp rmmmem—"
"Pug Moffitt, read that aloud! What did he blow up?"
"You sure you want to hear?"
She nodded and he read, " 'It took the old chow's doghouse, the corner of the back porch, and the storage shed. The sheriff issued a little citation, and I got a damned big bill yesterday from Gertie Mankens for tranquilizers for Fifi's nerves. Dog doesn't weigh five pounds dripping wet. Don't see how old Gert could cram thirty dollars' worth of tranquilizers down that mutt's throat. Other than that, it's life as usual around here. Love, Gramps.' " Pug folded the letter.
"I'm glad I'm almost a thousand miles south of Tulsa," Crystal said.
"Now, you know you love him and everything about him. You begged him to move to the condominium with us."

"I know. We have three empty bedrooms. Pretty soon we'll make a nursery out of one, though."
"Here's news that'll wake you up." He dropped another letter on her bare midriff.
She touched his jaw, feeling tiny bristles. "Six months ago we were here on our honeymoon and I'm more in love now than I was then."
He ran his hand across her fiat stomach, batting the letter off. "How's my baby?"
She patted her tummy. "Almost two months old and fine. I have a list of names to go over with you."
He nuzzled her neck. "Mmmm, you smell sweet."
The tangy aroma of bacon frying reached her. "You're cooking breakfast?"
"How'd you guess?" He kissed her throat.
She breathed deeply. "Yum, bacon. Hot biscuits?"
"Yep. Bacon's in the oven so it'll cook slowly." He trailed kisses to her ear and nibbled. "Yum, yourself. Mmmm."
She laughed softly. "Bacon, hot biscuits, strawberry jam, chocolate cake, eggs?"
"Crystal, I thought pregnant women were supposed to have morning sickness and not be able to eat breakfast."
She giggled. "I'm not like other women."
"So I noticed last Halloween."
"Why are you grinning from ear to ear?"
"Read the letter, darlin', while I see about the bacon and biscuits." He got up and left the room.
Tucking the sheet beneath her chin, Crystal picked up the letter and her heart skipped as she recognized the childish scrawl. She unfolded the paper and scanned it swiftly. Her hands started to shake.
"Pug!" she called.

He straightened in the doorway and grinned. "I'm right here. I had to see your face, even if breakfast burns."
"Aurora's sending the boys back to stay with us the rest of this year!"
He crossed the room and hugged her. "That's the best news since we found out about the baby."
She pulled back. "Thank goodness we've kept it a secret! Now we can tell them when they get to Tulsa! Won't they be happy!"
"I love the sparkle you get in your big gray eyes. When we tell Gramps, he'll probably set off another barrage of fireworks and get another bill for Fifi's nerves."
She groaned. "Don't talk about it." She wrinkled her nose. "Pug, something's burning."
"Holy smoke!"
She laughed and said, "I don't think it's so holy." She threw back the covers, snatched up a robe, and followed him to the kitchen.
"Well, if this isn't a first!" Pug said, bending over a smoking oven. "Mr. Pug Moffitt, burning the bacon."
Waving a cloud of smoke away, he set down the spatula and turned with a gleam in his eyes. "This is the first time in my cooking career I've burned up a meal. The bacon is burned, the biscuits are burned— and I know why."
She backed away from him. "I didn't cause it. You just can't keep your mind on what's important."
"I'll show you, little witch, what my mind's on."
She backed into the hallway. "I'm so hungry."
"So am I," he said with a suggestive drawl, his gaze drifting down her body. Crystal forgot about breakfast, food, and the world.

Pug pulled her into his arms, reaching for the loose belt to her robe,
"Yum," he said. "Sugar and spice, and a whole lot better than nice. ..."
She laughed softly, winding her arms around his neck while he kissed her soundly. After a moment she pulled back to brush tousled locks of golden hair off his forehead. "You can burn all the breakfasts you want, if this is what follows. That Halloween night, little did I know when I looked in the goodies case—I'd get you."
"And little did I know I'd marry my charming green-skinned witch!" Pug scooped her up and carried her to the big bed, and Crystal's heart pounded with joy.