My Man Valentine

By Jule McBride

HARLEQUIN®

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Chapter One

Turn into the skid.

Gripping the steering wheel, Dr. Tom Cornell pursed his lips in dissatisfaction as he always did at any discovery that the forces of nature weren't completely under his control. Then he calmly wrestled the car into submission while everything on the dashboard—stethoscope, Beanie Babies, thermometer, valentine card and a page he'd ripped from a phone book—slid toward him.

''Hang on, Belle,'' he tossed over a shoulder. ''Daddy swears the gall bladder surgery he did this morning was more dangerous than this, and besides we're doing less than ten miles an hour. In fact, sweetheart, maybe we'll just pull over and let you drive. What say?''

From the back seat, his two-year-old daughter giggled.

As the car slid to a slow, graceful halt on the ice, Tom glanced into the rearview mirror, and in the split second before his eyes caught

Belle's, he saw his own sandy hair, mustache and warm brown eyes. He looked like a decent guy, not the sort who'd leave a baby on a doorstep after a snowstorm. But then, looks could be deceiving. Tom shot Belle a grin. ''You enjoyed our little spin, huh, Belle?''

Shaking an empty juice cup, she bobbed in the car seat, wisps of strawberry-colored hair curling beneath what she called her ''ha-ha''— a red hat printed with white hearts. Staring through the rear window at the snow, Tom wondered if he shouldn't give up this crazy mission and take Belle home. It was nuts to drive all the way up to Braxton County with eight inches covering the ground.

Besides, leaving Belle with a stranger could be dicey. Lately she'd given separation anxiety a new name—to the point that even Annie was teasing Tom, saying she was going to use Belle in a case study about arrested childhood development. Tantrums aside, Belle had taken to hiding Tom's car keys, wallet and watch. By controlling objects associated with her father, she seemed to think she was controlling him. Wincing, Tom tried not to think of the watch he'd fished from the toilet bowl yesterday; it was just a good thing he wore a Timex, not a Rolex, since the toilet bowl was where more than one of his belongings had gone when Belle got mad.

Of course, Tom knew Belle got her controlling nature from him. He'd never learned to take no for an answer, which was why—on a snowy afternoon—he was pressing the gas pedal, inching down the unplowed road with fresh determination. White powder blanketed the faraway, pine-thick mountains, and closer, it looked like magic dust sprinkled on the sloping suburban lawns. Taking in the nearly identical brick houses along the tree-lined cul-de-sac, Tom decided Belle would be fine here. Yeah, he was definitely heading for Braxton County today... and Annie.

''With the help of Eloise Hunter.'' Groping a hand across the dashboard, he lifted the page he'd torn from the phone book, as well as the valentine card, on which a gold cupid aimed an arrow toward black calligraphy that said:

Happy Valentine's Day from Eloise!

This heart entitles the bearer to one free day of baby-sitting.

According to Annie, her best friend, Eloise, handed out these homemade gift certificates every holiday. Recipients could redeem them throughout the year, and Annie, always playing the matchmaker with Tom, had passed Eloise's valentine onto him, hoping he and Eloise would hit it off if she baby-sat Belle.

Not that Eloise didn't sound nice. Amusing and thoughtful, too. As a home ec teacher, her pet project was introducing adolescent males to homemaking, and it was her efforts that had put Annie's three rambunctious teenage boys back on track this year, during Annie's painful divorce.

''Tom, Eloise is amazing,'' Annie had assured. ''Somehow, she keeps her hand in five pies at once, and even though she's only twenty-five, she's incredibly mature. There's nothing she can't do.'' With wistful sighs, Annie had spoken of Eloise's beautiful hand-sewn quilts and to-die-for pineapple upside-down cakes. Eloise was not only a neighborhood block representative, but she also painted theatrical sets and taught weekly crafts classes to seniors. Not a beauty, Annie would admit, but Eloise possessed big brown eyes, and lush brown, shoulder-length hair.

''All she needs is a warm, caring, gentle man like you, Tom,'' Annie had urged, pressing the valentine into his hand.

Annie, he thought with a frustrated sigh. She was a staff psychologist at the Charleston Area Medical Center where Tom was a surgeon, and although she was a certified grief expert, that never stopped her from analyzing the general populace, including him, Belle, Eloise and, most recently, even the chief of staff's prize Pekinese, whom she claimed was suffering from depression.

According to Annie, Eloise Hunter's father had immersed himself in his job as CEO of National Aerodynamics after his wife's death when Eloise was three, which was why, at age twenty-five, Eloise was intent on attracting the attentions of unavailable men. Eloise's unresolved fixation on her father, Annie claimed, was the reason she'd been pining for her uninterested next door neighbor, C.D. Valentine, for the past two years. And it was why Dr. Tom Cornell needed to intervene ASAP and take Eloise out for a night on the town.

''Please, Tom,'' Annie had begged, ''just meet her. You know I have a sixth sense about people, and I think you're tailor-made for each other. She's wonderful, and she loves kids....''

Reminded of how much his little girl needed a mother, Tom felt tangled strains of emotion— protection, fear, love and pride. Already, Belle was beginning to look exactly like his wife whom Tom had lost last March...the loving mother Belle would never remember, except in photographs.

So what if Annie says I'm spoiling Belle? he suddenly thought defensively. Why didn't Annie understand that he'd rather err on the side of smothering than inattention? Tom wasn't about to risk being like Eloise Hunter's father, who'd withdrawn from his daughter after his wife's death.

''I just hope Eloise is home,'' he muttered.

In order to surprise Annie at the cabin in Braxton County, he had to leave Belle in town. More road closings had been announced, and he couldn't risk getting stuck in subzero temperatures with Belle. He couldn't tell Eloise Hunter who he was, either, or why he was leaving a baby. Eloise would only pick up the phone and warn Annie of Tom's plans—and that he couldn't have. His jaw set with purpose. Before the sun set this Valentine's Day, he was going to tell Annie how he felt. She'd gone to the cabin with her sons, Tom wasn't on call for the next forty-eight hours, and because school had been canceled, Eloise should be home. The timing was perfect. His eleven months of grieving was long enough.. . .

''Usually Annie helps patients' families,'' the chief of surgery had said all those months ago. ''But you should talk to her, Tom. I'm not saying professionally. Just invite her to share a cup of coffee. Annie's a good woman. And you're a great doctor. We all want you to work this through and come to terms with your loss....''

The whole staff at CAMC had hung in with Tom during the crisis, but it was Annie who'd made all the difference. When she'd first waved from a secluded corner of the hospital's cafeteria, he'd barely noticed her, but by the time they'd finished their third cup of coffee, he'd wound up covering her hand with his, drawing strength from her natural warmth and vitality. Unexpectedly she'd begun talking about her husband leaving her, and as Tom listened, he'd been reminded that he'd become a surgeon because he loved helping people. That evening, he'd gone home to Belle, no less torn by grief, but feeling changed, as if things might turn out all right.

Now, after a near-year's worth of shared lunches, Tom was noticing a whole lot more about Annie than her personality. At night, when he shut his eyes, he kept seeing every inch of her: her endlessly long legs, the charming overlap of two lower teeth, the fine texture of her touchable blond hair. She'd appeared so magi-cally—the right woman, at the right time, in the right place, and she'd said the exact healing words Tom needed to hear. He owed her, just the way Annie owed Eloise Hunter for helping put her sons back on track, but somewhere along the way, Tom's gratitude had turned into more. Lust, love, he wasn't sure which yet. And because Annie was still stinging from her lousy divorce, she wasn't even giving him the chance to find out.

''At least, not yet,'' he muttered. Then he took a closer look out the car window. ''This looks like the place where you and I part company, Belle.''

A scarecrow was in Eloise's side yard, just as Annie had said. In the summer, it kept a watchful eye on Eloise's vegetable garden, but today its straw hands held a big red heart, and red pantaloons encased its legs. The woman definitely had a sense of humor, Tom thought with a chuckle, and if Annie hadn't so thoroughly captured his imagination, maybe he would try to tease Eloise loose from her unrequited passion for her neighbor.

Instead Tom turned in the seat, and seeing his wife's face in his daughter's, felt his heart suddenly ache. Even now, he sometimes berated himself for the small failures of his near-perfect marriage, wishing he'd concentrated less on the future, more on the here and now. Foolishly he'd believed they had a lifetime of tomorrows. Now, because he knew differently, he resolved not to wait another day with Annie. And he certainly wasn't telling Eloise who he was. No, Annie wasn't getting the chance to gather her defenses.

''Belle,'' he said matter-of-factly, shoving the valentine into his inner coat pocket and glancing between Eloise's trim brick house and his daughter. ''Daddy really needs your help.''

Sensing imminent separation, Belle's eyes began to narrow.

''Annie's evading me,'' Tom explained, his voice soothing, ''and she's trying to fix me up with Eloise Hunter. But now I'm going to...'' Pausing, he laughed. ''Never mind, sweetheart. Your tender ears shouldn't hear what Daddy's got in store for Annie,'' he amended as he unstrapped Belle from her seat. Grinning encouragement, he continued, ''Now, you're going to do Daddy a favor and charm Eloise, right?'' he asked.

And that's when Belle started to scream.

''She would put me on hold,'' Eloise muttered. Wedging the phone receiver between her jaw and shoulder, she continued rolling dough, then cut hearts with a cookie cutter and laid them on a baking sheet while she waited, hoping her father would come on the line soon. ''Oh, c'mon,'' she whispered. Then she glanced at the cookies in front of her. ''C.D. had better like these.'' He'd loved the angel-shaped sugar cookies Eloise had made for him at Christmas, so she'd used the same recipe, and as soon as these cooled, she'd decorate them, take them next door and...

Ask C.D. if he wants to make love.

''No,'' Eloise corrected in a nervous whisper. ''Fool around. That's how I'll put it. I'll be very casual.''

As if there could actually be something casual about propositioning C.D. Valentine! Nevertheless, she'd already prepared herself, dabbing patchouli oil behind her ears, tugging on cowboy boots and tucking a transparent white blouse into her snuggest jeans, so that hints of a lace camisole showed from beneath. Now her heart pounded in anxious anticipation as she glanced through the window in the top portion of her side door, past the scarecrow and across the flat, snowy expanse separating her and C.D.'s houses. Her gaze lingered on his car—a four-wheel drive equipped with two sports racks. Twenty minutes ago a florist had pulled up behind it, delivering a basket of roses. Who were they from? Connie the bartender? Bonnie the redheaded accountant? Maybe they were from Cory, the new chef. . .

Unlike most of the women who swarmed over C.D. like locusts, as a single mother working to support her two children, Cory seemed to have some substance, a fact that made Eloise nervous, since no matter whom C.D. dated, he always claimed he'd continue to rely on Eloise for ''more mature companionship.'' God knew, the man usually needed it.

Last Valentine's Day was a case in point. When she'd seen movements in C.D.'s darkened kitchen, Eloise had become convinced he was being robbed. Armed with mace and a lamp, she'd rushed next door—only to find Nancy Nottingham, then head hostess at C.D.'s Mountain Lounge, eating mint ice cream in the dark, clad only in a zebra print bra, no panties. Not that C.D. had exactly looked offended by Nancy's outfit when he'd appeared, naked except for briefs.

Now Eloise fought a wave of renewed mortification, followed by something akin to depression. Dammit, this past New Year's, she'd resolved to approach C.D. by Valentine's Day, but she still hadn't made any progress toward her goal. Why was she such a wuss?

''And why make such a big deal of it?'' she murmured, boosting her own confidence. She and C.D. were good friends, weren't they? Whenever she went to Minneapolis to visit her father, C.D. drove her to the airport, waited in the terminal and waved as her plane took off. And last Thanksgiving, when his mother was recovering from hip surgery, Eloise had helped C.D. prepare a turkey dinner for the entire Valentine clan. ''Besides,'' she whispered now, ''C.D. sleeps with so many women... why not me?''

Thoroughly irritated at her lack of initiative, she deflected it by muttering into the phone receiver, ''I haven't got all day, Dad.'' Opening the oven door, she slid in the baking sheet, spun the timer and imagined herself saying, ''Happy Valentine's Day, C.D. Brought you some cookies. Mind if I come in?''

The phone clicked on. ''Eloise?'' Hearing her father's assistant's voice, she realized she'd already braced herself for disappointment. ''Mrs. Mesinger?'' Static crackled on the line, breaking up the reply, then Mrs. Mes-inger's voice boomed loud and clear again. ''Eloise?''

''Yes. Sorry, Mrs. Mesinger, but we've had a snowstorm. Even though it's not snowing now, the phones keep going out.''

''Oh...I see. Well, I did catch your father,'' Mrs. Mesinger continued, ''but he was late for a meeting in the fifth-floor boardroom, and you know how the people from the Flights Coordination Association can be!''

Actually, Eloise didn't. She took a deep breath, vaguely aware of the clutch of her heart. Couldn't Dad take a minute to come to the phone? ''Should I call back?''

''Well... let's see.'' Eloise heard Mrs. Mes-inger leaf through an appointment book. ''I'm afraid he has a lunch engagement. But not to worry, Eloise. He wishes you a Happy Valentine's Day, too...''

Oh, really? Eloise tried to deny the deep undercurrent of panic and anger that never quite made it to the surface at moments such as this. While Mrs. Mesinger continued talking about the exciting week Eloise's father had planned, Eloise found herself picturing the offices of National Aerodynamics. A home away from home during her childhood, she'd spent hours entertaining herself in vacant offices, curled on the floor with books and crayons spread over the muted gray carpeting.

Once, she'd gotten lost while exploring—she couldn't have been more than five or six at the time—and she'd never forgotten how her panic mounted as she roamed the scary, mazelike stairwells and endless hallways of identical doors. Only when she found the fifth-floor boardroom had she been comforted. The walls were hung with photographs of her father: leaning over un-scrolled maps, waving from cockpits, or fulfilling his duties as CEO, cutting ribbons at National Aerodynamics facilities all over the world. But you never found your daddy that day, did you, Eloise?

''Well...happy Valentine's Day, Eloise,'' Mrs. Mesinger said.

''You, too.'' Hanging up with a sigh, Eloise glared at the browning cookies, thinking maybe Annie was right. Maybe Eloise was a fool to bake for C.D. He didn't care about her any more than her father did.

Not that Annie's analyses ever helped. ''Nothing can,'' Eloise muttered, her voice suddenly vehement. Not when C.D. was so gorgeous! This summer, he'd started mowing Eloise's grass— just to be neighborly—and she'd served him tall, cold glasses of homemade lemonade as he'd worked. Carrying them outside, her eyes had riveted on the sweat glossing his tanned chest, and she'd fought shudders as droplets slid past rippling muscles into lush, curling blond chest hairs. She had soaked in the wild, barely restrained strength that emanated from his body just as surely as her skin had soaked in summer sun.

But could she really proposition him? On New Year's Eve, turning her fantasies into reality had seemed so right in theory.

Before she could reach a final decision, the doorbell rang. Glad to put the question on hold, she headed down the hallway, dusting flour-sprinkled hands on an apron, wondering who might be calling in weather like this. She swung open the door, shivering as winter wind rushed inside.

''Hey there,'' said the man on her porch.

He was tall and lanky, with sandy hair, a mustache and warm brown eyes. In addition to holding a baby girl, he was laden down with diaper bags and a car seat. Not Cyrus Dale Valentine, Eloise thought, sizing him up. But not bad looking, either. Self-consciously, she untied her apron, looped it over the doorknob and flashed the stranger a quick smile. ''Can I help you?''

He scrutinized her a moment too long, and at the suspicious gaze, she felt a sudden prickle of indignation—until she looked at the toddler again. Guilt flooded her. No doubt, she was taking out her pique at her father on the stranger. ''Are you looking for the Willises' house?'' The Willises had a child about the same age as his. ''Theirs is the white brick house by the stop sign. You can't miss it. Number four-twelve.'' As block representative, Eloise knew everyone's address by heart. When the man didn't respond, she continued, ''Uh...are you lost?''

His previously narrowed warm brown eyes suddenly sparkled with mild flirtation. ''No,'' he said, resituating the girl on his hip. ''You're definitely the woman I'm looking for.''

''Really?'' Eloise returned dryly. She spent half her life fielding C.D. Valentine's flirtatious remarks, so she knew how to handle them. Every time C.D. looked at her this way, he wanted something—usually for her to bake a pineapple upside-down cake, or to water his plants for the weekend while he went skiing with one of his flighty girlfriends.

''Here...'' Before she could protest, the man leaned, expertly pressing the child into the crook of Eloise's arm. ''Her name's Belle. She's two years old, and if you wouldn't mind holding her for a second...''

''No problem,'' Eloise managed to say, refraining from pointing out that the toddler was already in her arms. She stepped over the threshold and onto the porch as the man patted various pockets, probably looking for an address or directions. ''Looks like she's been crying,'' Eloise added. It was an understatement. Her dark eyes, squinted in anger, were filling with fresh globular tears as the girl glared at Eloise.

''Where did I put that...'' The man's voice trailed off and he sighed as he began searching inner coat pockets.

Eloise eyed the girl. She wasn't one to think badly of two-year-olds, but Belle's lips were drawn completely inward like an old woman's, and her eyes, which were framed by strawberry-blond hair, were mere slits of cold, furious, infantile rage. One look, and she'd obviously decided Eloise was the enemy. ''Uh...I think she's about to get fussy...'' Another understatement. The child looked fit to kill.

''She'll get over it,'' the man assured jovially, suddenly reaching past Eloise and swinging Belle's diaper bags inside.

''Wait,'' Eloise protested, her heart missing a beat when she got the sudden, strong impression the man meant to leave his daughter here. ''What do you think you're doing?'' ''Ah,'' he murmured, sounding relieved. ''Finally.''

Eloise watched in confusion as he pulled one of her heart-shaped valentine certificates from a pocket and slipped it into her free hand. He said, ''According to this, you're good for one free day of baby-sitting.''

''I don't even know you.'' Just as she said the words, she whirled anxiously toward the kitchen, since she thought she'd heard the oven timer. ''Wait,'' she continued, turning back to the man as he edged guiltily down the porch steps. ''Who are you? You can't just leave! You need to tell me who you are!''

''Sorry—'' Now he was backing down the walkway C.D. had so kindly shoveled for Eloise this morning. ''I can't tell you who I am, Eloise. But if there's any kind of emergency, just call the number I put in the bag. I'll be checking my messages regularly. All I can say is...this is a special Valentine's Day surprise.''

''For whom?" Eloise gasped. Her heart suddenly stuttered. Oh, she may have been ambivalent before, but this was supposed to be her and C.D.'s special night! How could she seduce C.D. if she was baby-sitting? ''I have plans!''

The tall, lanky man turned and all but ran for his Volvo sedan. As Eloise raced after him, his little girl drew a quavering breath and released a long, piercing scream that might have torn Eloise's heart if she wasn't so damn mad. Suddenly, Eloise was positive she'd have seduced C.D. tonight. If it weren't for the stranger, she'd have lost her virginity in a wonderful night of love-making. ''You don't know what you're doing to me!'' she shouted furiously.

She watched in horror as the stranger hopped into his car, waving as he pulled out. Her heart pounded in protest, her lungs burned from the sharp air, but she could only gape at the receding car. Just as it reached the end of the street, she registered that a sticker from the hospital where Annie worked had been stuck to the bumper.

She groaned. ''The cookies!'' Whirling, she ran toward the house, clutching Belle to her chest and trying to ignore her jagged sobs. Belle released another scream. Outside of low-budget horror films, Eloise had never heard anything like it.

''Please stop,'' she begged, hopping over the threshold, slamming the door and racing down the hallway. ''I don't care what you think. I'm not an awful person. I baby-sit all the time, and other children like me.'' Reaching the kitchen, Eloise deftly whisked open the oven door and pulled out the cookies, but it was too late. Steam rose in dark wisps from the charred, blackened hearts, and tears suddenly stung her eyes.

Her Valentine's Day couldn't be worse. The hearts that were meant to be a precursor to sex with C.D., were now ruined. Rattlesnakes had kinder eyes than the baby in her arms. Not even her own father had bothered to come to the phone!

Just as Eloise angrily swiped the tears from her cheeks, she heard two loud pounding knocks at the side door, and then C.D. Valentine waltzed into her kitchen, gorgeous as ever, his huge, broad-shouldered body filling the doorway while his luscious gray-blue eyes homed in on the baby like radar.

Chapter Two

''Will you ever learn to knock?'' Eloise sounded unusually flustered, and her tone made C.D. narrow his eyes since, if he didn't know better, he'd suspect she was masking tears. ''C.D., I could have been in a bathrobe or something!''

''Or something. That I'd like to see,'' he returned easily, his usually flirtatious patter covering the fact that everything inside him froze as he stepped into her peach-and-mint-green kitchen and saw her holding a child.

''And you didn't wear a coat, either, C.D.,'' she admonished, gesturing toward his open chambray work shirt and threadbare jeans.

''You really can be bossy sometimes, you know.''

''It's cold out there.''

C.D. thought he heard a catch in her voice, but surely he was wrong; she hadn't been crying. Eloise never cried. He glanced next door, at his own nearly identical brick house, then his gaze returned to hers. ''At least I got dressed,'' he offered with an engaging grin.

''My,'' she returned dryly. ''A red letter day.''

''It is,'' he agreed. ''Besides, you know I never catch colds.'' His gaze swept quickly over the kitchen table, which was piled high with projects, then he took in Eloise. Even though he'd shoveled her sidewalk this morning, he now had the distinct, if false, impression that he hadn't seen her for many years and that during his absence, she'd somehow given birth to a baby. Shaking off the oddly jarring thought, he decided the cute girl in her arms couldn't be more than two years old—about the age of his latest niece, Kitty. The child had quit crying when C.D. came in, and now an exaggerated frown made her look almost comical.

Not that C.D. smiled. ''Jack Stuart's daughter?'' he guessed, trying to sound casual as he brushed white-blond strands of wind-whipped hair from his cheekbones and headed for the cof-feemaker to help himself to a cup. When he turned around, Eloise was staring at him, her eyes turning dark again, just like those of the squinty-eyed baby at her hip.

"Who?" she asked.

''You know.'' Reaching past Eloise and the girl, C.D. lifted a cookie from a baking sheet. ''That guy Annie's friend keeps wanting to fix you up with, the professor from over at West Virginia State.'' Suddenly C.D. realized Eloise was staring intently at the heart-shaped cookie he'd begun happily munching. ''For somebody else?'' he guessed guiltily, about to take another bite.

''They were for...oh, never mind. They're burned, C.D.''

''Crispy,'' he corrected, crunching again. ''Hmm. I like them this way, too. Same recipe you used on those Christmas angels. Now, do you mind telling me why you're so upset? When I walked in, you looked as if you were six years old and someone just stole your lunch money. Did I do something wrong, precious?'' He knew the endearment riled her, but that she secretly liked it, and there was nothing Cyrus Dale Valentine loved more than seeing Eloise riled. He watched with satisfaction as color rose in her cheeks, and her warm eyes turned as glossy as her shoulder-length chestnut hair.

She drew an annoyed breath. ''The real question,'' she challenged, wagging a finger at him like a Sunday schoolteacher, ''is why you've come barreling into my house.''

C.D. hesitated before answering. He'd felt... unsettled, worried, and although he'd hated to admit it, uncharacteristically jealous. Fact was, he'd been so upset that he'd completely forgotten to bring over the basket of Valentine roses he'd ordered for Eloise.

''Whoever the guy is, he looks nice,'' he admitted. ''But he has to be thirty-five, Eloise. Maybe even forty. Not that I was...'' Pausing, C.D. decided spying seemed too strong a word. ''Anyway, the point is, I happened to look out my window and see him. And while I know it's none of my business, you haven't mentioned anyone since you broke up with Glenn.'' Glenn was a man she'd dated for four months the previous year, a gangly guy with glasses who, in C.D.'s humble opinion, looked far more suitable than the good-looking, well-dressed older man who'd appeared on her doorstep moments ago.

''I mention a lot of people.'' A quick toss of her head sent dark chestnut strands swirling against her pale opal cheeks. ''And if you came over to talk about Glenn,'' she warned, ''you might as well go home right now.''

''I didn't. But I'm your friend and I worry about you. I'm just saying that a ten-year age difference is something you should think about. You should look before you leap, Eloise.''

''What makes you think he was ten years older than me?''

''I took a good look.''

''Hmm.'' Her eyes and the little girl's seemed to narrow in tandem. ''I don't spy on the people who come to your house, C.D.,'' she reminded. ''And my love life's none of your business.''

''Maybe not.'' But it was Valentine's Day, and a man should be taking Eloise to dinner instead of asking her to baby-sit. Couldn't she see that? Sighing in frustration, C.D. pulled out a chair and frowned down at folded stacks of camouflage-print material, wire mesh, leather strips and chains. ''Starting a new career as a domi-natrix, Eloise?''

She rolled her eyes. ''Yes,'' she returned darkly. ''I'm getting tired of teaching. I felt in need of a new career, and I assure you, C.D., you're going to be my first victim.''

''A dominatrix,'' he murmured, still staring at the camouflage-print fabric. ''That, or you're starting a war.''

''More like you came over to finish one.'' Glancing up, he found himself wondering at

the sudden hint of a smile that tugged at her plump pink-lipsticked lips. Nothing in the world, he decided, could be more mysterious to him than the ever-shifting moods of Ms. Eloise Hunter. He didn't mind sparring with her, no more than he minded her bossiness. The way he saw it, it was refreshing to be around a woman who knew her own mind. Unlike a lot of women, Eloise didn't pretend to share his tastes. In fact, she hated many things closest to his heart, such as ice hockey, tacky underwear and fast food.

''The boys at school are making skateboard covers and throw pillows,'' she explained, nodding at the items in the chair. ''Leather and chains encourage them.''

C.D.'s thick blond eyebrows knitted together. ''Is this really the only way to get boys interested in sharing household responsibilities?''

''Unfortunately, yes. If you want to sit while you drink your coffee, why don't you move all that stuff to the table?''

''All I'm saying,'' C.D. continued as he seated himself, ''is that you might want to think twice before you date an older man who already has a child, Eloise. I mean, it's easy to see what's in it for him, since you'd make a great mother, but—''

Eloise's huge brown eyes widened as they always did when he opened his mouth and inserted foot. ''Hate to cut you off, C.D.,'' she said, a touch of censure in her voice, ''but do you mind if I say something?''

He never had anything but Eloise's best interests at heart, so he felt strangely taken aback by her present attitude. Shrugging, he took a long draft of coffee, noting the faint, honey-nut aftertaste and wondering why his never tasted this good. ''Uh...sure, Eloise. Shoot.''

''You're in no position to lecture about suitable partners.''

He winced. Lately his love life had been a mess. ''You've got a point there.''

''And if you weren't so nosy, you would have figured out by now that the man who left Belle here was a complete stranger.'' Eloise paused. ''Belle,'' she repeated. ''That's her name.''

C.D.'s mind was still processing other information. ''A stranger?''

As Eloise edged closer, the scent of patchouli perfume, which just happened to be C.D.'s favorite, washed over him. Drawing in the scent, he watched as she stood Belle on the floor and began wiggling tiny, chubby arms from a red coat, exposing a navy sleeper beneath. He listened as Eloise told him the whole story.

''You're saying the guy left a valentine certificate?'' C.D. reiterated when she finished. ''And then he just drove away?''

Now she sounded stunned. ''Yes, in a green Volvo sedan.''

He bit back a soft, angry curse. ''We'd better call the police.''

''But, C.D.,'' she protested, ''I can't do that. I obviously know the person who gave that man my valentine.''

''But why didn't he tell you his name?'' ''I don't know.''

''Can you guess whose valentine it was?'' Glancing down at the heart-shaped card on the table beside the baby, Eloise shook her head. ''No, all the baby-sitting certificates were the same.''

''Well,'' C.D. scoffed. ''Just because the guy had a certificate doesn't mean he can drive up and leave his child.''

''No,'' Eloise agreed thoughtfully. ''At least not without giving me more information.'' Her gaze flew to his. ''I just remembered. He said he left a phone number.'' She raced to the diaper bag and routed out a slip of paper, then hurried to the phone, Belle at her hip again.

She returned a moment later, her face grim. ''It was just a machine and the outgoing message gave no information, not a name or anything.''

As C.D. mulled things over, he tried not to notice that Eloise was dressed up and wearing lipstick. Not that her choice of a white top and jeans was particularly provocative, but this blouse was sheer with full sleeves and a fancy collar that draped her shoulders. Beneath was a camisole printed with tiny pink flowers, and her jeans were faded to perfection, cupping what C.D. generally thought was Eloise's best feature, her backside. ''Wait a minute,'' he suddenly couldn't help but say, pushing aside the fleeting illogical thought that she'd lied to him. ''If you didn't have a date, why are you so dressed up?''

Eloise shot him a long, sideways glance. ''C.D.,'' she said levelly, ''if you didn't notice, I have on blue jeans and a shirt.''

Oh, he'd noticed. Lifting his eyes from her plainly visible underwear, C.D. decided her words didn't require a response, especially not when he saw her blushing. Eloise knew exactly what kind of male reaction her outfit was capable of provoking, especially since she usually only wore sweatpants and oversize T-shirts around the house. But whom was she dressed up for?

She blew out a perturbed sigh. ''Anyway, a stranger left Belle here—'' As she shifted her hold on the baby, Eloise's blouse pulled taut across her chest, accentuating her full breasts in a way C.D. couldn't help but notice. ''So, I guess any plans I might have had need to be back burnered.''

C.D. fought not to ask once more what she'd planned today...or tonight. Why wasn't she being straight with him? Usually she was more forthcoming. Noting that dark storm clouds were gathering in her eyes again, he racked his brain. Maybe he'd forgotten to take care of some chore for her... but he'd had her car inspected Saturday, then rigged up the new clothesline in the basement. No, he'd broken no promises. So, why was this exchange carrying so much low-level tension? Baffled, he offered a casual shrug. ''I just asked if you had a date. I mean, you do have on lipstick, Eloise.''

Something, maybe sadness, touched her eyes, and a quick flash of insight made C.D. sure she'd called her father to wish him a happy Valentine's Day. She always called him on holidays. C.D. figured Terrance Hunter had been busy as usual, but before C.D. could coax the story from Eloise, she murmured, ''Uh...no. No date, C.D. Really.''

Sensing a hint of pain, C.D. decided that someone had canceled on her and he gentled his voice. ''Well, baby-sitting a stranger's baby is a helluva way to spend Valentine's Day. But I'm here for you if you need me.'' Unlike that damn father of hers who paid her about as much attention as a piece of furniture. Casting a glance at the child, he added, ''And if it's any consolation, the little one looks as confused as you about the situation.''

Eloise suddenly chuckled, the sound as soft and warm as the room. ''With her face all squin-ched up, she looks like a little prune. Don't you think so, C.D.?''

''That or a shar-pei dog.'' His lips stretched into a wide grin that made his eyes light up, and the tension that lay between them vanished like smoke. ''Now, you say the man knew your name?''

She nodded. ''He called me Eloise.'' ''And he had a sticker on the back bumper from the hospital?''

''Yes, but that doesn't help, C.D. I gave out seven baby-sitting certificates to the nurses there... Annie's introduced me to so many people.''

He snorted in frustration. ''Seven!'' Her lips parted in surprise. ''What's wrong with that?''

''You're running yourself ragged, that's what. Why not stay home one night and take a nice long hot bath? Or watch some videos with me? Friday you had a block association meeting, Saturday you were decorating classrooms, and Sunday was the quilting group...'' Realizing she looked sorely offended, his voice trailed off.

Shifting the baby on her hip, she shot him a look that was pure Eloise: head tilted, chocolate eyes wide in her pale skin, the lower lip of her plump pink mouth thrust out. ''I didn't exactly hear you complaining about your valentines.''

''True.'' She'd promised to iron his shirts when he was ''pressed for time,'' and to bake him a pineapple upside-down cake, whenever he wanted. He suspected he was the only person who'd rated two certificates, and she was right. C.D. didn't feel the least bit guilty. ''Well, I'm not moving until you call all seven of those women and find out who gave away her valentine. Maybe it was Annie. You must have given her one.''

Eloise was taken aback. ''Annie would never give a certificate to a stranger.''

''If you say so. Now, c'mon. Let me hold that cute little girl while you make those calls.''

As Eloise snuggled the baby into his lap, he felt an unexpected rush of tenderness. ''Don't worry,'' he found himself assuring, taking in Belle's fine, hat-flattened strawberry hair, chubby, tearstained cheeks and quivering lower lip. ''We'll find your dad, kid.'' C.D. considered the emotion that had flooded him when he'd seen her dad. Soon enough, some man's going to figure out what a sweet deal Eloise Hunter is. That was C.D.'s first thought. Eloise was nothing like the women who'd seemed so fun when C.D. was younger...women who, over the past couple of years, had started seeming too clingy. Or possessive. Or hell-bent on besting him.

It was always something. Sighing, he glanced around the kitchen he'd helped Eloise paint last summer. Bright inviting light illuminated the peach walls and mint trim, taking the somber winter-gray out of the day. Colorful projects littered the chairs—weaving yarns and quilting scraps. Lately the electric buzz of productivity that hummed through Eloise's house had made spending time at his club feel dull by comparison. Years ago, when he'd bought C.D.'s Mountain Lodge with a family loan, he'd loved it, but the late nights had started wearing thin. He was thirty now, and he'd begun considering opening something more sedate, maybe a supper club.

''Karen didn't give away her valentine,'' Elo-ise announced as she hung up the phone. ''Neither did Mary, Sue or Ellen. Annie and Gertie aren't home, and that only leaves Jane.'' ''Guess you'd better call her then.'' As Eloise ran a finger down her phone directory, C.D. realized she'd painted her nails pink. He frowned. ''Are you sure you didn't have a date tonight?'' ''What?''

His heart went out to her. ''Did somebody cancel, Eloise?''

She shook her head. ''No, C.D.'' ''But you painted your nails.'' She glanced up, her dark eyes settling on his for a charged, penetrating second, and when they darted away, he was left breathless, his heart pounding. No doubt, he'd imagined it, but he could swear he'd seen...raw sexual desire? In the eyes of...Eloise Hunter? He was still gaping at her when she glanced at him again. She frowned. ''What, C.D.?'' His chest felt strangely tight. He told himself he must have imagined the way she'd looked at him. ''Uh...nothing, Eloise.'' But he'd definitely felt a jolt of something. And everything male in him had responded.

As he bounced the toddler on his knee, Elo-ise's pink-tipped fingers flew efficiently over the keys, punching in Jane's number. She eyed C.D. as the phone rang. ''Maybe you can stay and help me with her until her father comes back,'' she invited casually.

He wished he could. ''I've got to go to the club. Later I've got a...'' Date was too strong a word, he suddenly decided, despite the fact that he'd made late-night dinner reservations at one of the best restaurants in town. ''I said I might hang out with Cory awhile. You know, the new chef at the club.''

Eloise nodded, as if to say that was expected. ''Oh...hello? Jane?'' she said as the other woman picked up the phone.

C.D. winced, cursing himself for making plans with Cory. But how was he supposed to know Eloise might need help? He suddenly smiled, thinking of how Eloise had shown up on his doorstep two years ago with a pineapple upside-down cake. She'd caught him at a bad moment—shirtless with his tattered jeans un-snapped—and she'd blushed to beat the band. Quickly thrusting out her cake-free hand, she'd rushed into a monologue, saying, ''Hello, I'm Eloise Hunter from Minneapolis, Minnesota, and I've always been best known for my pineapple upside-down cake. It's damn near famous.''

Before C.D. could get a word in edgewise, she'd told him she was twenty-three years old, just out of college, and that she'd moved here because West Virginia schools were offering great salaries to attract teachers, since so many locals were moving out of state.

''Precious,'' he'd finally said, ''I don't know about you, but that breathless introduction sure left me winded. Want to come inside?''

She had. And something about the perfunctory, almost manly way she'd shaken his hand had absolutely killed him. Up to that point in his life, C.D. couldn't recall ever having shaken the hand of a woman. He'd kissed women, yes. Felt up, yes. Danced with, yes. Significant eye contact, always. But handshaking? Never. Not even once.

Since then, he and Eloise had helped each other whenever the need arose, which meant conflicts such as this one with Cory were bound to arise. It wasn't the first time. Chewing his lower lip, C.D. suddenly wondered if he should call, tell them not to expect him at the club, then cancel with Cory and stick around Eloise's for the evening.

''So, Jane didn't give away her valentine?'' he asked as Eloise recradled the receiver. Rising, he nestled his coffee cup in the dishwasher, then handed her the sniffling child.

''Shh...'' Eloise lightly bounced Belle, soothing her. ''No,'' she said to C.D. ''But I'll keep trying Annie and Gertie. I guess you have to go?''

''I'd better.'' He frowned, brushing away a stray wisp of the girl's hair. ''Sure you'll be all right alone?''

Eloise shot him a droll look. ''I'm a grown woman, C.D.''

Before he thought it through, he flicked a finger against the shoulder of her blouse, his gaze drifting to the low collar, which exposed a hint of her ample cleavage. ''I realize that, Eloise,'' he murmured, then catching himself, quickly

said, ''If the guy comes back, do me a favor and call the club, would you? Just so I'll know.'' She nodded. ''Okay.'' ''Mind if I take another cookie?'' ''You like them, huh?'' ''They're great.''

Obvious disappointment he couldn't begin to fathom crossed her features. She swallowed hard, then skirted around him, opened the refrigerator and handed him a plastic container. ''Here. Have some gazpacho. And you can take the whole tray of cookies.''

''Not until you ice them.'' As he leaned to grab another burned heart, he could smell the sweet patchouli mixing with the sugary scents of baking. The perfume smelled different on every woman who wore it, and at that second, C.D. discovered he liked it best on Eloise. Her natural scent turned it into something complex and hard to define, making him more aware of her as a woman than he wanted to be. ''You smell good,'' he couldn't help but say. ''And no matter what you say, I think you had a date.''

She glanced at the sniffling toddler who was eyeing the cookie. ''I sure do.'' C.D.'s eyebrows shot up. ''With Belle,'' she explained.

Barely registering his relief, C.D. leaned, and suddenly, without thinking, he dipped his head, lightly brushing his lips across Eloise's cheek. He had no idea what possessed him—and the kiss left her staring at him in awkward disbelief since they'd never parted this way—but as he turned and headed outside, into the bitter-cold day, C.D. wasn't at all sorry.

In fact, he wanted to kiss her again.

When C.D. returned a few hours later, the digital bedside clock read 9:00 p.m., and since the toddler was napping in the middle of Eloise's bed, he wound up sitting on the mattress to call Cory. Wedging the phone between his jaw and shoulder, he tried not to dwell on the electric jolt he'd felt earlier as his lips swept the warm, soft velvet of Eloise's cheek.

He watched her place the basket of roses on her bedside table. ''Thank you so much,'' she murmured.

He smiled. He'd known the flowers would be a hit. As she casually seated herself next to him, her thigh brushed his, and he tried to tell himself that Eloise wasn't making moves on him, despite the slow-building heat that coiled in his belly. No, arousing him was the furthest thing from

Eloise Hunter's mind. She simply wasn't that kind of woman.

''You have a date,'' she whispered insistently.

He covered the mouthpiece while Cory talked. ''But you need help,'' he whispered back. Poor Eloise looked like hell. He'd found her lying in bed with a cold compress pressed to her forehead, staring warily at the baby. Not only had Belle wept for hours, but C.D. had found—and recovered—Eloise's car keys, which the girl had tossed into the commode.

Now C.D. sighed. It had been hours since the mystery man had abandoned his child here... and hours since C.D.'s realization that another man would someday claim Eloise Hunter. Not that C.D. had a right to his jealousy. It was pure selfishness. Still, he was the one who gave Eloise pep talks after her lousy visits with her dad, and she was the only woman C.D. had ever met who enjoyed spending lonely weeknights alone watching his favorite Kung-Fu movies. Suddenly, his mouth watered at the thought of her vegetarian eggplant lasagna and—selfish though it was—he decided he really didn't want her to get married.

''Really,'' she said again. ''You don't have to stay, C.D.''

''You need help.'' As he continued listening to Cory, he glanced through the airy white curtains that framed the snowbound winter night. A full white moon brightened the black, star-dotted sky and rolling West Virginia hills. Inside, soft light from converted oil lamps bathed a pastel quilt Eloise had made last winter. Lace night-clothes slung over an armchair looked startlingly luminous, and C.D. found himself shifting uncomfortably on the mattress, fighting a pang of arousal. He'd had no idea Eloise wore such scanty underthings to bed. Nor could he recall the bedroom—where he'd hung curtains and changed lightbulbs—seeming so rife with romance. The scent of patchouli was definitely taking its toll. Tightening his hand defensively around the phone, C.D. tried to concentrate on Cory's harangue, but he was still thinking about how he'd kissed Eloise earlier. Like her room, the kiss had been romantic, nothing more than a near-touch and quick mingled breath.

''Sorry, Cory,'' he finally said, glancing helplessly at Eloise when he managed to get a word in edgewise. ''But Eloise is alone here, and we haven't decided if we should call the police, or go over to the hospital to hunt for Belle's father.'' Eloise still hadn't reached Gertie, and Annie was at her cabin in Braxton County, but the phones there weren't working due to the weather.

''We were supposed to have dinner after my shift,'' Cory reminded him. ''And I already got a sitter for the kids.'' There was a long, seething pause, then she added, ''Everybody said this would happen.''

He told himself to stay calm. He and Cory had only begun casually dating, and she was overreacting, probably because she was still prickly from the breakup of her marriage. ''What would happen, Cory?''

''Everybody at the club said you're seeing Eloise.''

''Cory,'' he said, chuckling, ''I really don't know where you got that information.'' Glancing at Eloise, he rolled his eyes. ''There's a baby here, and we don't know who she belongs to. Have a little compassion.'' The remark, offered with good humor, only riled Cory, and it was long moments before he managed to extract himself and hang up the phone. He shook his head. ''We've only been out a few times.''

''Your affairs get hot and heavy awfully quick,'' Eloise said knowingly.

He laughed. The supposed intensity of his affairs had long been a focus of Eloise's curiosity. ''I don't have nearly as much fun as you seem to think.''

Eloise's jaw dropped. ''Nancy Nottingham,'' she said simply.

That had damn near been the last time C.D. had sex, but he was hardly going to admit it. ''That was a year ago,'' he defended.

Eloise shrugged. ''Well, on the one hand, Cory sounds too possessive.'' ''You're being gracious.'' ''On the other hand,'' Eloise continued, ''you did break a Valentine's date. I know women at the club chase you, C.D., but maybe you should quit dating them.''

He only did so casually, Nancy being the one exception, but C.D. didn't offer the information because he'd suddenly become aware of the room again—of the silence, the low lighting and the wind whistling seductively through the pines outside. He was aware of Eloise's enticing scent, too, and of the warmth where her thigh pressed his. Even though he tried to break their gaze, he was riveted by her soulful dark eyes and translucent skin.

Desire came with the force of a revelation. His heart missed a beat, his groin throbbed almost painfully, and a wild, dark, crushing need to possess Eloise Hunter overwhelmed him. He was stunned by the force of it, and, feeling strangely shaken, he glanced away. What was he thinking? Eloise was just a fraction shy of downright bossy, so if she had any interest, she would have come right out and told C.D. long ago.

Her voice was low, and, he could swear, husky, though no doubt he wanted to hear it that way at the moment. ''C.D.?''

Licking his lips against their sudden dryness, he said, ''Look, precious, I think you'd better bundle up that little girl.'' Eloise frowned. ''Why?'' Because if you don't, I might forget we're friends and take advantage of the fact that we're in bed. ''Because by the time I pull my car around front, it'll be warmed up for you and the kid. I figure we'd better run to the hospital. You said the guy had a sticker from the hospital on his bumper.'' C.D. nodded at Belle. ''So, maybe we can find out who her father is.''

Chapter Three

''Could you guys turn off the music? Or the TV?'' As one of her sons lowered the music, Annie recradled the phone and leaned against the island separating the kitchen from the main room of the cabin where her sons were entertaining themselves. Rooting under a bulky sweater, and using the cabin window as a mirror, she dug into a jeans pocket, found a plastic-coated band and swept her blond hair into a practical ponytail.

The weather had worsened in the mountains, and outside, snow was falling in blinding sheets while high winds shored deepening drifts against the front porch. Not that it mattered. Although phone service was spotty, the roads would be plowed by morning, and Annie had brought plenty of supplies in case she and the boys got stuck.

She just wished she could reach Tom Cornell. Placing her hand on the phone, she prepared to try again. She felt like an idiot, calling him every five minutes, but she'd realized she never should have given Eloise's valentine to Tom. What would Eloise think! Not only was the gift certificate meant for Annie, but Eloise might misunderstand Annie's motivations, and that would be awful, since Annie was deeply appreciative of the offer to baby-sit. Her boys adored Eloise. Unfortunately, Annie had gotten so irrationally fixated on getting Tom back into the dating scene that she'd been become exactly like her own mother: intrusive and controlling.

Annie thoughtfully chewed on her thumbnail. Well, maybe she was justified in her matchmaking. Over the lunches they shared, Tom always reminded her to leave her analytical skills in her office—and God knew she tried—but if she didn't intervene, poor Eloise would never give up her crush on C.D. Valentine, now would she?

The more Annie ruminated about C.D. Valentine, the angrier she got. Every time C.D. did anything the least bit neighborly, such as trim Eloise's hedges, mow her grass, or shovel her sidewalks, it was as if he'd performed a minor miracle. Oh, Annie didn't want to burst Eloise's bubble, but the flower boxes C.D. built her last spring weren't exactly the eighth wonder of the world. To hear Eloise tell it, the pink flamingos he'd left on the lawn on her twenty-fourth birthday were right up there with Stonehenge and the Hoover Dam.

Didn't Eloise understand how she was debasing herself by effusively meeting C.D.'s needs? Countless times, looking hopelessly breathless and flushed, Eloise had given Annie lengthy blow-by-blow accounts of how C.D. executed the most mundane household chores.

Why couldn't Eloise take up her own space? Stand up for herself? Annie felt a sudden rush of righteous white-hot anger. How many times had Eloise saved C.D. Valentine's houseplants from extinction? Or fed the man something more nutritious than the fast food he apparently thrived on? Eloise even helped him clothes shop, since, just like Annie's ex-husband, C.D. was clueless when it came to new styles. Left to their own devices, men would still be wearing loincloths, Annie thought with disgust.

Suddenly she frowned, recalling Thursday's lunch with Tom. He'd had the nerve to imply that Annie's anger at C.D. was really aggression Annie secretly wanted to aim and fire directly at her ex-husband. Well, Annie had set Dr. Tom Cornell straight, hadn't she? She, not he, was the psychotherapist, she'd reminded. Now a smile curled her lips as she recalled how handsome he'd looked, dressed in green scrubs and a lab coat, reaching over the table to steal celery sticks from her plate.

''I'm not claiming to be Sigmund Freud,'' Tom had said. ''And I wouldn't know gestalt from an inkblot, but I'm beginning to understand what makes you tick, Annie.''

And she'd said, ''Well, now that I'm lying on your proverbial couch, Tom Cornell, what's that?''

He'd said, ''The same thing that makes most women tick: a need for love and understanding.''

And then she'd—

''Mom, you're talking to yourself again.'' Startled, Annie glanced up, guilty warmth heating her cheeks. Years of her own analysis had made her realize she had plenty of flaws— among them, the uncanny ability to carry on long, argumentative conversations with herself. ''I know,'' she murmured, distractedly. ''But I'm thinking.''

''About Tom Cornell?'' one of the boys teased, sending the other two into gales of laughter.

Standing stock-still, her hand still on the phone, her eyes widened. Was it possible she'd been rationalizing? What was her real motive in wanting to take back the valentine she'd given Tom? Maybe she secretly didn't want him to meet Eloise.

Shutting her eyes, Annie employed a visualization exercise she frequently offered to clients as a tool for exploring their true feelings. She pretended that her matchmaking had been completely successful. Tom and Eloise were standing at the altar.. . .

Sucking in a deep, calming breath, Annie let her attention linger on Tom's tall, lanky, tux-clad body as he turned toward Eloise, who was barely recognizable, dressed in a long-sleeved, beaded gown. Slowly Tom lifted the veil—and Annie grimaced. She should have known! The bride wasn't Eloise; it was Annie. And the flower girl was Belle!

Apparently, in her anger over her divorce, she'd managed to obscure her own developing feelings for Tom. As a standard, defensive re-action—so common in therapeutic situations— she'd protected herself by attempting to marry Tom off to someone else. It all made perfect sense. Human psychology always did.

''There you have it,'' Annie whispered. ''People are right. Therapists, not clients, are the real head cases.'' It was definitely a good thing she'd left couples counseling. Besides, everybody agreed grief was her real forte. ''Mom!''

She'd been so lost in thought that her son's calls had barely penetrated. ''What?'' ''Someone's at the door.'' Probably a stranded motorist. Frowning, she headed toward the front of the cabin, hoping the person hadn't been walking. It was beautiful here, but the snowdrifts were deep, and without city lights, the surrounding woods were pitch-dark. Feeling a rush of concern, she opened the door, and then stepped back in surprise. ''Tom?'' She flushed guiltily as her eyes flicked over him. This seemed so strange, since she'd just been thinking about him, although Annie had to admit she often thought about him. ''Where's Belle?'' ''With Eloise Hunter.'' She tried to ignore the sudden stab of jealousy. ''Oh? So, you met Eloise? Did you like her?''

He raised a staying hand. ''Annie,'' Tom said levelly, ''before you start psychoanalyzing me or Eloise again, I'd like to have a word with you.''

Her lips parting in surprise, she peered into the bitterly cold, snowy night, then into his eyes again. Usually a warm brown, they'd darkened with seeming pique. Snow glistened in his hair and mustache. ''What possessed you to come here on a night like this?'' she asked. ''Where did you get the directions? And where's your car?''

''Please,'' Tom said again. ''Don't start the analysis.''

She was still in shock. ''What were you going to say?''

''I was going to give you the watered-down version,'' he began, sounding none too happy. ''But that was earlier. Annie, it's now taken me eight hours to drive here when it should only have taken me two. The car was skidding, so I had to leave it in some backwoods town I'll probably never find again. I had to coerce the owner of a car dealership to open his business and rent me a four-wheel drive. That vehicle got stuck in a ditch and a tow truck had to pull me out. Otherwise, it's a long story. Suffice it to say my child's with a woman I don't even know, and who doesn't know who I am—although,

God knows, she came with a good reference. I'm tired, I'm hungry and my shoulders ache. So, like I said, you can just forget the watered-down version.''

''Okay,'' she said. ''Give it to me straight.'' ''I'm in love with you, Annie.''

The pediatric floor of the hospital was quiet, and the mauve and royal-blue furnishings and carpet were bathed in the soft, soothing glow of low fluorescent lights. ''Gertie,'' said Eloise. ''Finally. I've been calling both here and your house for hours, looking for you.''

''I'm filling in for somebody,'' Gertie explained apologetically as she tossed a long dark braid over the shoulder of her nursing uniform. ''They've been rotating the schedule so much that no one can ever track me down.'' Her eyes followed another nurse who'd kindly taken Belle from Eloise's arms, and who was now amusing her in a glassed-in day care nursery. ''Anyway,'' continued Gertie, ''that's definitely Dr. Cornell's little girl. Tom Cornell,'' she clarified.

''He's a doctor?'' C.D. asked, unzipping his parka. ''You're sure?''

Gertie's eyes trailed over C.D., lingering longer than Eloise cared for. Not that Eloise could blame Gertie for looking. Worn jeans hugged C.D.'s muscular legs, fitting his rock-hard thighs like leather gloves to hands. And between the steel-gray parka that matched his eyes and the heavy climbing boots, he looked as if he was a fearless outdoorsman about to perform some daring mountain rescue.

''Oh, it's Belle Cornell. I'd know that munch-kin anywhere,'' Gertie continued with a smile. ''Her screams are legendary. While her dad's working, Belle always stays in the nursery. We've actually thought of auditioning her for horror films. She would have sounded great in the remake of Psycho.''

''My thoughts exactly.'' Eloise glanced anxiously toward the patients' rooms, hoping the nursery was soundproof. ''She's been crying for hours, Gertie,'' Eloise continued with concern, glancing at C.D. ''She cried the whole time you were at the club. I tried everything. I walked her, rocked her, fed her...I was sure I was doing something wrong.'' The guilt had been the worst of it.

''Nothing can be done,'' Gertie assured. ''Annie says it's just a phase, and that she'll outgrow it over the next few months.''

''Well, right now my head's pounding.''

Belle's ear-shattering shrieks had started a tension headache that had spread throughout her body. ''I think I took a whole bottle of Ibupro-fen.''

''Separation anxiety.'' Gertie nodded sympathetically. ''That's what it is. Belle lost her mother last year, when she wasn't more than a year old, and she has a hard time.''

''Poor thing,'' Eloise murmured, suddenly feeling blessed that she'd at least had a mother for her first three years of life. She exchanged a quick glance with C.D., suspecting he'd read her mind. He'd asked her once, and she'd shared her scant memories of her mother. They were vague, of course. Nothing concrete, just free-floating feelings of warmth and nurturing. And then there was nothing but a big black hole where her mother should have been.

Now Eloise braced herself against emotion, and she felt C.D.'s big hand settle on her shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. ''She'll be fine,'' he murmured, making Eloise wonder if he was talking about her or Belle.

''Annie's doing all she can to help,'' Gertie continued. ''We all are. Belle's a strange kid, though. She'd taken to hiding Tom's belongings as if they're magical talismans. Annie says keeping objects associated with Tom assures Belle that he'll never abandon her.''

''Maybe that's related to why she threw your car keys in the toilet,'' C.D. said. ''Maybe she was mad.''

''Could be. Annie's so wonderful with analysis,'' Eloise added, then she suddenly gasped. ''Oh! That Dr. Cornell. Now, I remember him.''

C.D. didn't look pleased. ''You've heard of him?''

She could swear the words, though innocent enough, held an undercurrent of jealous emotion. Looking into C.D.'s gray eyes, she suddenly felt ungrounded, almost as if the floor had disappeared and she'd started floating. He was a full head taller than she, and as her eyes searched his chiseled face, taking in the wind-tanned cheeks and white-blond hair brushing his collar, she felt a slow, undeniable shiver of longing. Powerless to fight it, she remembered her earlier plans to seduce him, and only wished she had the nerve. For two years, she'd spun countless wild fantasies, but the second she was face-to-face with C.D., she always thought the better of making a move.

''Well,'' she said, fighting breathlessness. ''I don't really know Tom. But Annie's always wanted me to meet him.''

Gertie laughed. ''Annie wants you to marry him, Eloise. She says you two would make the perfect pair. And Annie ought to know. Before she started working here, she was mostly doing couples counseling.''

''Marry him?'' C.D. said. ''That's a little extreme. They haven't even really met.''

Was it her imagination or did C.D. sound perturbed? Jealous even? At the thought, Eloise felt faintly woozy, and her head started swimming in earnest. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself she was suffering from an overdose of Ibuprofen, she knew better. She'd been dizzy since four o'clock this afternoon.

She still couldn't completely believe that kiss had happened. It was as surprising as the fact that C.D. had brought her roses for Valentine's Day. Over and over, she kept telling herself that the kiss had been merely perfunctory, and that the gift was merely a neighborly gesture. Against her cheek, C.D.'s lips had felt like the faintest trace of a finger, nothing more. Maybe he'd been leaning toward the cookie tray, and the brush of his lips was an accident.... But no.

Eloise was just as sure the kiss had been intentional. Realizing her heart was hammering, she glanced away from C.D., wishing she knew what he was up to. Had he decided he could have feelings for her? Was he coming on to her? Testing her response? Did he intend to slowly build intimacy, taking their friendship to a new level? As impossible as that seemed, the tension of not knowing for certain was unbearable.

Gertie was still talking. ''You know Annie's been desperate to fix you and Tom up for months. Maybe you should go, Eloise.'' ''Maybe I should,'' she murmured politely. C.D. gaped at her. ''You want to go out with a doctor?''

Gertie's eyes widened. ''You have a problem with doctors, C.D.? Tom Cornell's a good-looking, highly paid professional man with strong family values and a social conscience.'' Trying to be as coldly critical as possible, Elo-ise kept her eyes riveted on C.D. and casually said, ''You've got a point there, Gertie. Maybe I should at least go on a date. He was good-looking, even C.D. said so.''

''Definitely handsome, in an every day, average kind of way,'' Gertie agreed.

Eloise could swear C.D. sounded relieved. ''Average?''

Gertie nodded approval. ''Average is good. I've never gone for those cocky types. You know, like the guys who played football in high school? They always turn out to be jerks.''

Eloise winced. C.D. had been a high school quarterback, and now he looked offended. He said, ''Not all football players are jerks.''

He sounded so testy that Eloise had to conclude he was jealous, not that she understood why. They certainly weren't involved. ''Well... anyway, C.D.,'' she managed to say lightly, wondering if the remark would further goad him, ''men with medical degrees aren't average. Tom Cornell's got to be brilliant.''

''Oh—'' Gertie blew out a quick sigh. ''Excuse me a sec.'' Grabbing a file, she headed toward a doctor who was beckoning from a patient's doorway.

C.D. barely seemed to notice her leaving. Leaning casually against the countertop of the now-deserted nurses' station, he said, ''Brilliant? Is that what you're looking for in a man?''

''I'm not looking for anything,'' Eloise assured him.

''Glenn was a teacher,'' C.D. countered, ''which means he was smart. And now it sounds as if you're interested in this doctor.''

It seemed impossible, but there was no mistaking the watchful wariness in C.D.'s wolfish eyes, nor the determined set of his lips. He was definitely digging for information. She bit back a smile, pleased for once to have the upper hand with C.D. Valentine. Not that the jealousy was anything more than an issue of ego. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but goad lightly, ''Now I remember. Annie said Tom owns a house in South Hills with a big yard and in-ground swimming pool, and she said we've got similar interests... gardening, kids, volunteer work.''

''Last year I was part of the Business For Kids program,'' C.D. reminded her.

Eloise had spearheaded the community program and involved C.D. who'd done a bang-up job, treating kids to lunch at his club while he spoke to them about starting his own business. ''You were great, C.D.'' ''Really?'' She nodded.

Edging closer, he glanced around quickly as if to make sure they were unobserved, then he lowered his voice argumentatively, the soft hus-kiness sending a thrill through her. ''Anyway, you can't go out with this guy.''

If his proprietary attitude wasn't so irksome, she might actually start enjoying this. ''Is that so?''

C.D. looked appalled. ''He left his child at your house.''

She hadn't noticed before, but now she realized that C.D. smelled of citrus aftershave. He'd come so close that her shoulder was wedged solidly against his chest, too. Awareness flooded her, and then, just as quickly, a rush of thoroughly unexpected hostility broke through the irksomeness. Why couldn't she get it through her head? He hadn't meant anything by the kiss earlier, and now he wasn't intentionally making her nerve endings dance. C.D. was a flirt by nature, and she'd be a fool to take anything other than his friendship seriously, no matter how much she wanted him physically.

C.D. was still eyeing her. ''You're not going out with him, are you, Eloise?''

''I might,'' she returned, her voice becoming cool. ''No one's perfect.''

''Perfect?'' C.D. echoed with stupefaction. ''Eloise,'' he repeated, ''I can't believe you'd really go out with a man who abandoned his own child.''

''I'm sure he had good reasons for leaving Belle. He's a doctor,'' she countered. ''Maybe he was delivering a baby in the snowstorm. Or visiting a sick child.'' C.D., she realized, was looming over her now, and his voice, which had grown both angrier and huskier, was sending shivers through her bloodstream. ''Maybe doctors were needed elsewhere because of the storm,'' she continued. ''At a shelter or something.''

''I very much doubt it,'' C.D. said darkly.

''Tom Cornell's a very nice man,'' she defended.

C.D. took the comment as a direct affront to his own character. ''You don't even know him, Eloise.''

The genuine glint in his eyes should have given her pause, but it only served to further tweak her temper. Truly, C.D. had no right whatsoever to keep her from other men. ''You don't know him, either,'' she returned.

C.D. scowled. ''Why are you defending him, Eloise?''

''Oh, I don't know!'' she suddenly burst out.

''Dammit,'' C.D. suddenly cursed, blowing out a murderous, frustrated sigh. ''I do.''

She swallowed hard, her heart skipping a beat. ''Do what?'' ''Know what we're fighting about.'' She eyed him cautiously. ''You do?'' ''Yeah, I do, Eloise. We're fighting because I want to do this. I've wanted to do this all day,'' he said. And then C.D. simply leaned down and covered her mouth with his.

Chapter Four

C.D.'s kiss gave Eloise the privilege of tasting something she never had before on a man—jealousy. He'd controlled it masterfully, heat and raw possession flavoring the touch of his mouth with just enough danger to titillate without causing alarm. Now that they were back at her house, she sucked in a quick sizzling breath and shuddered, wondering if he'd try to kiss her again. He was pacing in front of the bed, cooing soothingly while Belle cuddled, asleep on his shoulder, her fingers relaxed on his chambray shirt.

''I got into the jewelry box and slipped one of your necklaces around her neck,'' he whispered, rubbing a hand down Belle's back. ''The beads are big, so she can't swallow them, and wearing it calmed her. Guess your stuff has become acceptable now. You know... how Gertie said Belle likes to hide her dad's stuff.''

''I definitely wish I'd thought of letting her wear a necklace,'' Eloise returned, savoring a warm maternal rush. She'd held Belle for hours during the crying jag, and apparently they'd bonded. She liked thinking that her belongings now made Belle feel safe. ''Where can we put her, C.D.? If we leave her alone on the bed, I'm really afraid she'll fall out.''

''What about on the floor near the armchair? The carpet's soft. We'll watch TV in here until her dad turns up.''

''Sounds good. I'll get some bedding.'' Turning to go, Eloise's gaze dropped over C.D., and she felt tension explode inside her once more. Her heart fluttered, butterflies invaded her stomach and the anxious excitement that made her turn on her heel and head down the hallway suddenly seemed dangerously unstoppable. She might have been confused about the chaste kiss that afternoon, but there was no mistaking what C.D. Valentine had done at the hospital. Wonderfully thorough and invasive, the deep plunge of his tongue had been as warm as the winter night was cold and as restless as the wild winds blowing between their houses.

Opening the linen closet door, she stared un-seeingly at stacks of freshly laundered sheets, her mind still occupied with C.D.'s welcoming, practiced mouth. In the car, after they'd strapped Belle into the back seat, C.D. had threaded his fingers through Eloise's, resting their joined hands on his thigh. She'd sat stock-still as he drove, enjoying the feel of his flexing leg muscles and fearing that any movement might end the moment, making him withdraw his hand. Funny, she thought now. She'd gabbed freely with C.D. for years, but in the car, she hadn't been able to think of anything to say. She'd racked her brain, wanting to make casual conversation, but she'd wound up only staring through the windshield, the slow, romantic songs on the radio reminding her it was Valentine's Day, just as the magical moon haunting the sky reminded her that C.D. had really kissed her.

All the way home, she'd watched that full, yellow moon drift through the marbled snow clouds, and she'd wondered what action to take next. Had he enjoyed the kiss as much as she? she wondered now, lifting bedding from the shelf and heading back to the room. Should she initiate another kiss? Or was it better to let sleeping dogs lie?

Stopping on the threshold at the sight of him, emotion lodged in her throat and she tried to swallow it, but it remained—just a pure longing, a slow-burning ache. After the feeling vanished, Eloise wished she hadn't felt it. She was a fool to keep dreaming about this man.

He was seated in the armchair, his eyes shut, diffused light from the rewired oil lamps making his hair look more yellow than blond. Belle was stretched dreamily over his chest, still bundled in her blue sleeper, her chubby legs dangling, her arms spread. Most women wouldn't guess, but C.D. loved kids. He was the youngest in his family, and between his four married siblings, he now had seven nieces and nephews. Last Thanksgiving, when Eloise helped him cook dinner for his family, she'd been amazed to see how he doted on the children.

''I wish he'd settle down and have some of his own,'' his sister Tammy had said, laughing and slowly dropping a hand over her pregnant belly. ''I don't know what that man's waiting for.''

Eloise didn't, either, since she imagined C.D. could start a family with any woman he wanted. Sighing, she tiptoed into the room and, as she reached the armchair, C.D. opened his eyes, surveying her a long moment. He had the best eyes. Early mornings, when he stopped for coffee before Eloise left for school, the two of them would stare out her back window, into fog that exact color, not the dark gray of steel or storms, but the same misty gray that rose between the mountains, warming with daybreak and catching hints of sky-blue and green from the pines.

Slowly, C.D. smiled.

Eloise smiled back, feeling emotion as subtle as the lamplight suffusing her. He'd flicked on the TV, and, the low murmur of sound helped dispel her internal tension. Lifting a hand, he grasped an edge of the baby blanket hanging over her arm and rubbed the fabric, tracing the weave of lavender and pink chenille. His voice was as sensual as the touch, as seductive as a lullaby. Talking low, so as not to wake the child sprawled on his chest, he murmured, ''Nice, Eloise. You must have made it.''

She glanced down and said, ''Yeah,'' and when she looked at him again, she was powerless to curb the hunger of her own gaze. His cheeks were smooth, shaved planes, dark and wind-tanned from the outdoor sports he loved, and they were made darker still by shadows dancing in the low light.

His voice lowered yet another notch, turning huskier and strangely promising. ''It's a baby blanket. Why'd you keep it?'' The corners of his mouth curled further upward. ''Planning on having a baby sometime soon, Eloise?''

Looking at him, she realized how much she wanted one. ''Wouldn't you like to know?'' Her smile deepened. ''I was going to give the blanket to your sister.''

C.D.'s brow wrinkled. ''Who? Tammy?''

She nodded. ''Uh-huh. Last year, when Kitty was born.''

He still looked puzzled. ''You made a wool piece for the baby. It was green and yellow. Remember?''

Turning back a corner of the blanket, Eloise said, ''I made this for her first, but I messed up the underside. It was supposed to be reversible.'' She shrugged. ''It didn't turn out right, though. Sometimes things don't.'' Even as she said the words, she became aware of the slow gulping of her pulse. If we slept together, would things work out? Could we live with it later? Would it destroy our friendship? Earlier, she hadn't really considered all the implications... the possibility of losing C.D. as a friend.

His lips parted slightly, and he tilted up his head to get a better look at her. ''You mean to say you made my sister another baby blanket because of one little misstitch on the back?''

''You know I'm a perfectionist.'' And you're perfection.

He shook his head. ''You,'' he said simply.

''You,'' she whispered back, aware that their gazes had meshed and held and that the slow thudding pulse at her throat was making her breathless. Nervously she tossed her head, so her hair fell behind her shoulder. How could he be

so calm when they were in her bedroom? When another kiss seemed as close as the next breath? When the light was low, the bed so near? ''That's what I like about you, Eloise.'' ''What?''

He shrugged, searching for the words. ''You pay attention to detail. You always get things right.''

Did I get that kiss right at the hospital? ''Like?''

''Like when you helped me pick out the new decor for the club last year.''

''Thanks.'' Feeling flustered by the way he was watching her, she stepped behind the chair and busied herself, arranging things for Belle. ''Maybe we can pull the other chair over here to block off the corner.''

''Wouldn't want our little tigress escaping,'' C.D. agreed, rising. When Eloise finished with the makeshift bed, he leaned, gently disengaged Belle's fingers from his shoulders. As he placed her on the floor, he slipped the necklace off her and then covered her with the blanket. ''Beautiful workmanship,'' he repeated, then added, ''I don't think she'll wake up.''

''I figure that last crying jag did her in.'' C.D. released a low, rumbling chuckle. ''Definitely did me in.''

''You? I'm the one with a headache.'' He frowned. ''You still have it?'' ''Not really.''

Stepping behind her, he settled his hands on her shoulders anyway. Feeling their broad strength, she couldn't help but groan throatily with satisfaction. Through half-shut eyes, she could see the toddler sleeping, a tiny fisted hand nestling the blanket against her cheek, and along with the television's hum, she could hear C.D.'s steady breath. His chest rose and fell against her back as his fingers kneaded her aching shoulders, and his proximity warmed her, making the surface of her skin feel alive, awash with prickles. When his groin brushed her buttocks—casually at first... once, twice, then with unmistakably steady pressure—heat flooded her whole body and she suddenly wished she didn't want him so much. Maybe it was wrong to want anyone so much. He wanted her, too, judging from his obvious arousal.

But didn't he understand they were playing with fire? That his kiss had made her mind spin with possibilities? Dammit, hadn't he guessed that her heart leaped whenever items in her house broke, just because she'd have an excuse to call him? Or that she found herself grinning every time he showed up unexpectedly, as he had this morning to shovel her sidewalk?

Don't be an idiot. End things right here. Don't ruin it.

Wasn't sharing C.D.'s life enough? If they slept together, things would become so difficult, wouldn't they? Besides, casual affairs weren't exactly her middle name, and C.D. might find out that the intimacy she'd implied she shared with Glenn was one hundred percent fabricated. Lies, lies, lies. She'd lied to appease Annie, who thought Eloise needed to get her mind off C.D., and Eloise had wanted C.D. to think she was serious about another man, just to keep her pride intact.

Suddenly his hands stilled on her shoulders, and she blew out a quavering breath as he increased their pressure, turning her to face him. Keeping her voice low, she managed to reestablish a conversational tone, even if the tremor in her voice gave her away. ''I hope Belle's dad shows up soon.''

Obviously C.D.'s mind was on other things. His eyes drifted slowly over her face, lingering on her lips. ''I'm sure he will.''

She tried to ignore her racing pulse, but their thighs were still touching, and the hard ridge of his jeans' fly was pressuring her. Somehow, she found her voice. ''Gertie thinks Tom got caught in the storm. Wherever he is, maybe the phones are down. Wonder if it was an emergency?''

''I'm having an emergency,'' C.D. whispered. His eyes, still riveted to her mouth, glowed with awareness.

Contrary to her earlier plans, common sense now said that taking things further with C.D. would be the worst kind of mistake. Or maybe the warning came from a sudden mental image of her father. One minute, Eloise was looking into C.D.'s eyes, and the next she was in the past, wandering through empty hallways and boardrooms. She felt her gaze darting around while she tried to deny the panic growing inside her, tried to stifle the small, insistent little girl's cry, Daddy? Daddy? Where's Daddy?

Annie was right. Maybe Eloise would never stop asking that childish question. Even now, a pair of Terrance Hunter's monogrammed cuff links were in the jewelry box C.D. had left open on the dresser, which was why Eloise fully understood Belle's impulse to hide her dad's things. One day, years ago, Eloise's father had asked her to put the links away for him, but she'd kept them instead. Now, glancing at the jewelry box, she felt a stab of pain, just a quick jolt that brought her back to reality.

''Eloise?'' C.D. probed.

He was watching her carefully, clearly sensing her thoughts had taken a turn, moved elsewhere. ''Nothing,'' she said. But was she kidding herself? Had she really thought, even for an instant, that she could make love to C.D. without consequences? A darker question she'd long denied lay buried beneath that one: If your daddy didn't love you, Eloise, what makes you think someone else will? And even deeper still, was that strange, illogical question of childhood, If Mommy loved you, why did she die? Mommies aren't supposed to leave their little girls.

Shooting a quick glance at Belle and feeling her heart pull, Eloise abruptly turned from C.D. Without offering a backward glance, she headed toward the hallway. She'd reached the linen closet when he leaned and caught her hand, forcing her to turn around. ''Where are you going so fast?''

Away from you, C.D., she thought. But now she wasn't so sure. Looking into his gray, blue-tinged eyes confused her every time. For two years, she'd suffered the worst sort of juvenile crush, and yet she wanted—even needed—to deny the intensity of the emotion. This was C.D., she told herself, reliable C.D., who shoveled her walk, had her car inspected and drove her to the airport whenever she visited her father. She cared about him, and she didn't want to lose what they already shared.

''C.D.,'' she suddenly whispered. ''I really think you'd better go home now.''

His eyes narrowed. He was so close she could feel his breath and, when he lifted his hand, she could hear the slow, gentle brush of his knuckles as he trailed them across her cheek. Briefly she shut her eyes, enjoying the contact. Down deep in her bones, she felt rather than heard the soft rumble of his voice. ''You think you can get rid of me this easy, Eloise?''

She opened her eyes. ''It's late.'' ''I said I'd watch TV with you until Belle's dad comes.''

''You'd better not.''

He inched nearer, and her senses went wild when his lower body grazed hers again; he felt so impossibly good. It shouldn't have affected her the way it did—men brushed up against women all the time, didn't they?—and yet his hard, muscular male body sent blood racing through her veins. She'd never imagined so much tension could be held inside a human being, least of all inside her. It was getting damn difficult to take, but somehow she mustered her voice. ''You really should leave, C.D.''

The only thing that budged were his lips, which turned ever so slightly upward as if to say he secretly knew how much she wanted him. ''Answer me one thing,'' he said. ''Why?''

''I'm a practical woman,'' she whispered il-logically, barely able to hear herself over the sudden ringing of her ears. ''A schoolteacher. A block representative.''

Totally ignoring her incredibly valid points, C.D. tilted his head downward, so their lips nearly touched. ''A block representative,'' he repeated, his lips stretching, broadening as he planted his smile solidly on her mouth. His tongue followed, and even as Eloise cursed her own lack of resolve and good old American backbone, she found herself yielding. Even as she denied his power over her, she swooned. Their mouths fit like every good cliche: like a lock and key, puzzle pieces, or half hearts. His lips clung to hers, tasting as fresh as dew on morning grass. And then, suddenly, they were gone. Eloise gasped at the loss of contact, stunned to find how weak he'd left her, how her thighs trembled, how the tips of her breasts had constricted and were aching.

''You're just scared,'' C.D. challenged softly, his eyes looking glazed with arousal, so very male.

Eloise could barely breathe, but when she did, his strong masculine scent completely filled her lungs, making her knees weaken all over again. ''Just scared?'' she whispered, the words a raspy croak. ''Isn't that enough, C.D.?'' ''Not hardly, Eloise.''

She licked her lips, still tasting him. ''Let's show some common sense here.''

''There's nothing common or sensible about what we're going to show each other.''

He said it as if lovemaking was a foregone conclusion. Internal shivers were moving through her now, their invasive presence another byproduct of his kiss. ''This is crazy. We can't.'' He didn't look convinced. ''What if I disagree? Doesn't my opinion count?''

Temper started mingling with the passion he was provoking. Why couldn't he understand? ''Earlier tonight, I was thinking about making love to you, C.D.,'' she said. ''I admit it. But we're friends, and I want to keep it that way.'' ''Friends,'' he repeated. ''That's all the more reason...''

''Get real, C.D.''

''This is as real as it gets,'' he said huskily, his hand sliding all the way down her back, slipping over her behind.

In her mind's eye, she saw an image of C.D., gorgeously naked, aroused and tangled in the rumpled covers. But I love you. I can't lose you. He was standing so close, too close, and the frightening truth that she loved him was like something palpable. It crowded around her, squeezing out her breath.

He was watching her carefully, sizing her up, obviously not in the mood to take no for an answer. She almost wished he'd be difficult or threatening, since a woman could easily contend with that kind of behavior. Yes, brute force was something a woman could stand up to. But this . . .

His breath was mixing with hers, his long, strong fingers seductively stroking her cheek again. Gently he tilted up her chin, a heavy-lidded gaze dropping over her face just before his lips met hers again, their coaxing more convincing than words.

She was starting to panic. ''Please, C.D.,'' she murmured.

Those devastating gray eyes pierced hers. ''Is the problem the other women I've dated?''

Somehow, she'd survived them. That's what she wanted to say, and yet on another level, she didn't care about them. Some were prettier or perkier, but they never lasted long, often only a few dates, and then C.D. would return. He'd pop in for morning coffee, swearing hers was the best, and then they'd share conversations about the weather, meaningless early-morning conversations, that smacked of domesticity, and that had somehow come to mean the entire world to her. ''Yes...'' she managed to lie. ''Yes, that's it. It's all those women, C.D.'' Better that than admitting the ridiculous depth of her own feelings.

''Eloise,'' he returned, his voice barely audible. ''Not nearly as much goes on with those women as you like to think.''

''But... well, right now, I'm watching the little girl...''

''She's asleep.''

Before she could respond, he turned, stepping away and opening the closet door, and Eloise's knees weakened in sudden anticipation. C.D. knew her house inside-out, and even though he was obscured by the door, she knew he was pocketing a condom from the box she'd bought when she was dating Glenn. She'd hoped something would happen, but none of the packets had been used.

''If Belle wakes, we'll hear her,'' C.D. assured, shutting the door, grasping her hand and pulling her further down the hallway. ''Come on. Give me another kiss in the guest room.''

He wanted more than a kiss, and Eloise knew it, but seconds later, she found herself next to him, beside the guest room bed, standing in a shaft of light from the hallway. White curtains opened onto a snow-blanketed hillside, and moonlight reflected onto a white quilt and knitted afghan. ''C.D.,'' she whispered as he drew her into his arms.

''I want you, Eloise.''

Her sudden nervous laughter sounded too bright, forced. ''You're not going to show any mercy, huh?''

''Not in the least.'' His lips grazed her cheek. ''If it's mercy you're looking for, precious, you're in the wrong place.''

''Do you remember July Fourth?'' she suddenly said, a recollection of the hot, summer night flashing into her mind.

He brushed back her hair, smoothing it over her shoulder. ''When we were down at the levee?''

''Some girl named Missy stood you up.''

''And we stayed down by the river until midnight.''

She nodded, remembering how they'd lay down, their backs resting on the hard, hot concrete, their toes dipping into the cool water. They'd stayed long after the fireworks were over, staring up into the stars scattered across the velvet night sky.

''I thought about kissing you then,'' he said.

Her breath hitched nervously. ''Not really. You're making that up.''

''Really.'' He smiled. ''But I forgot until right now.''

Despite her anxiousness, she managed to smile back, and she was still thinking about the fireworks—about the multicolored starbursts, shooting ribbons of light and squiggles of red fire—when C.D.'s next kiss exploded against her lips. There were going to be no more chaste kisses, and by comparison, C.D.'s effort at the hospital had only been polite. As hot as July, his searing tongue now dived between her lips, moving with sure, coaxing strokes, and she fell with him onto the bed in a soft tumble of tangling hair and touching lips. Their jeans-clad legs scissored together and his strong arms tightened around her back.

She felt his mouth tremble. It was greedy on hers, thirsty, but he held back, almost as if he feared his need would overwhelm them both.

''Here,'' she whispered, thinking it was amazingly easy to undress a man. As the soft cham-bray of his shirt fell away, her palms glided over coarse, wonderfully masculine chest hair, and vaguely she wondered why she'd bothered arguing. Maybe she could have done this long before tonight. Any morning, when he'd been drinking his coffee, maybe she could have simply reached over and unbuttoned his shirt. If she'd only had the nerve to take what she wanted.. . .

When he unbuttoned her blouse, thoughts flew from her mind. When he palmed her breasts, she whimpered. Her jeans, then his, hit the floor. Nothing but skin and desire was left. Heat and long-harbored need. He was all hard velvet. She, ready dampness. This was C.D., she kept thinking as his mouth smothered her breasts. C.D. Not the man of her fantasies, but her flesh and blood neighbor, her friend. From under heavy lids, her gaze dropped slowly over his golden chest hairs, down to where he was gorgeous and burnished, touched with fire and need. Her heart stuttered. Aroused and wanting, C.D. Valentine was definitely a man to contend with, everything a man should be.

His tongue flickered out once more, the soft velvet edge sliding along the taut tip of an aching breast, making her cry out as she threaded her hands deep into his hair. Pulling him closer, she arched, straining as he scooted between her legs, the flexing hot solidity of him eliciting fiery starbursts inside her that drew her mind downward, somewhere darker, and left her close to shattering.

''C.D.,'' she murmured desperately, her breasts feeling unspeakably full with his kisses, her whispered words urging him to draw the stiffened peaks further between his lips, suckling. Arching once more, she sought to join with him, and he gasped, leaned away, rolled on a condom.

''Eloise,'' he whispered, his strong hands gliding down her bare back. ''We're doing the right thing. I know you're worried, but you won't regret it.''

''Yes, I will,'' she said, her gaze seeking his, her soft breathing labored. ''But it doesn't matter right now.'' Every part of her was burning.

His eyes were tender, his mouth gentle as it closed over hers once more. Then a sharp cry escaped her in a second of shock as he guided himself into her and thrust once very hard... oh, damn... so hard. It would have been too hard, except for the tunneling rush of pleasure.

''Oh, no, Eloise,'' he uttered hoarsely when it was too late, when he was deep inside her. ''You're a virgin.''

Her voice was strangled. ''I was until just now.''

''Oh, precious.''

''You weren't supposed to guess, C.D.''

His breath was a soft pant, his eyes flooded with tender light. ''Why didn't you say something?''

Her pulse was racing and every inch of her body ached for more of him. ''I wanted you to be the first,'' she gasped in a moment of weakness, knowing it was too heartfelt a revelation and that the power he held over her could break her heart. ''But don't worry. Like I said, it's all right, C.D.''

''Sure is,'' he returned, carefully entering her again and flooding her with ecstasy. ''So very right, precious.''

Eloise.

C.D. should have known she was perfect for him. Like a typical male idiot, he'd been concentrating on other aspects of their relationship for the past two years, when he obviously should have had sex on his mind. He wasn't proud of it, but he was prone to the typical male attitude that said some girls were so nice as to be offlimits. Now he shuddered to think of what he'd almost missed.

Even more interesting was the fact that he and Eloise already shared lives. Thoughtfully he watched her set a glass of milk and a plate of iced, heart-shaped cookies on the kitchen table.

''Why didn't you tell me?'' he said again, slipping an arm around her waist, feeling her long white silk gown tease his fingertips. She wasn't wearing a stitch beneath, and he groaned with satisfaction, pulling her into his lap and feeling the exciting curve of her bottom on his thigh. He nuzzled her neck.

''Tell you?'' She snuggled, her skin hot and damp through the sheer fabric, her eyes drifting downward, curiously lingering on his chest, belly, then briefs.

He was still marveling at her responsiveness, at the many men who'd let her get away, at how easily he could have missed his chance to make love to her. ''How did you manage not to...''

Color stained her cheeks. ''Sleep with anybody before now?''

Tenderness claimed his heart. ''I'm not trying to embarrass you, Eloise.''

She shrugged. ''I didn't have a lot of friends when I was growing up, C.D. And I was worried about all the usual things, pregnancy and disease. And then...well, I thought something would happen with Glenn, but to tell you the truth, I wasn't all that interested in him. He's a nice person,'' she added quickly, snagging a cookie from the plate and biting into it. ''Anyway, why do you want to talk about this?''

''Because you've been under my nose for two years, and I just now noticed.''

''Well, you were right before. It's embarrassing, C.D.''

''Not for me.'' He was on top of the world. Pink suffused her cheeks and she smiled, dimples bracketing her mouth. She eyed him a long moment. ''As many women as you've been with,'' she said levelly, ''nothing would embarrass you, C.D.''

He drew her closer, thinking he'd never felt more comfortable than now, sitting here with her shoulder comfortably wedged against his chest. Pressing a kiss to her hair, then brushing his lips to the dark strands, he whispered, ''There really haven't been as many women as you think.''

''Oh, C.D.,'' she said as if to say he was impossible.

''Really,'' he defended. ''Whenever you're ready to hear the truth, I'll tell you. Meantime, your accusations just expose your overactive imagination. You've been having fantasies.'' ''What if I have?'' ''When did they start?'' ''When I first saw you, C.D.'' The information made his soul sing. So did

how she curled against him, ducking her head. His gaze followed hers to a window. Beyond the reflected interior of the kitchen, he could see the scarecrow, and past his house, a hill thick with pines. Snow coated the sloping branches. It was after midnight, and somehow this time with Elo-ise felt stolen. He rubbed a hand up and down her back. ''Let's go back to bed, precious.'' ''We should check on the little one.'' Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath of her warm, feminine scent that was spiced from love-making, and for a second, he fantasized they were talking about their child. He sighed. ''Guess Belle's dad's hunkered down somewhere for the night.'' ''Guess so.''

''So, we've got the place to ourselves, no interruptions.''

That got a smile. ''You didn't seem to be expecting interruptions before, C.D.''

''Sure I was. Couldn't you tell I was holding back?''

She elbowed him. ''I don't think so.'' She was right. He'd never felt such explosive release. No doubt, she could now feel the evidence of his wanting her again. There were so many things he wanted to do with her, to show

her. Lifting a cookie, he crunched on it. ''Thanks, Eloise.''

Her lips tilted further upward at the corners. ''Sure.''

''For that, too. But I meant for icing the cookies.''

Her chuckle filled him with warmth. ''I was going to bring those cookies over earlier, and use them to seduce you.''

The idea had immense appeal. ''Are you serious?''

She nodded. ''Ever since last summer, when you started mowing the grass without a shirt...'' He squinted at her. ''That's why you were dressed up and wearing patchouli?'' When she nodded, he thought again of how she'd made a second baby blanket for his sister. ''When you get something in your head, you always do it right.''

Her voice was the softest, sexiest purr he'd ever heard. ''Did I get it right tonight?''

Just before he kissed her, he whispered, ''Nothing's ever been so right.'' He'd never imagined he could feel so satisfied, or so sure about his future.

Chapter Five

Thankfully morning brought Eloise to her senses. Annie was absolutely right. Eloise already loved one unreciprocating man, her father, and she didn't need to love another—her true feelings be damned. Better to end things with C.D. before they ever began. That's what Eloise thought as she crossed her arms over the longest, most concealing flannel nightgown she owned and worriedly tapped her fingernails on the countertop while waiting for the coffee to brew. Surely, she told herself, glancing at C.D., he understood that fairy tales that lasted past dawn meant trouble, so he'd leave after he had some coffee.

''Here you go, cutie,'' he said, amusing Belle by dunking a spoon into a bowl of applesauce, flying it through the air, then slipping it neatly between her lips. She was seated at the kitchen table, her head just poking over the top of it since there was no booster seat. She was again wearing the beaded necklace, which she'd insisted having the moment she awoke. ''Just like a woman,'' he murmured as she wiggled her arms and legs. ''Preening and giggling. Throwing me those wanton glances.'' Glancing at Eloise, he said. ''Wonder why her father never called. It seems kind of strange. Don't you think? Even though we didn't call about any kind of emergency, you'd think he'd at least check in.''

''Maybe the phones are still down,'' Eloise countered, feeling prickly since C.D. hadn't yet mentioned what happened last night. Did it mean so little to him that it wasn't worth talking about? Did he really feel they could simply pick up where they left off? Or did he simply assume it was a one-night stand? She felt too uncomfortable to ask, and as soon as she'd awakened, she'd scooted from bed, quickly dressed and come downstairs to start coffee. ''I never got hold of Annie, C.D. And anyway, it's still early. Wherever he is, maybe Tom's not even awake yet.''

''Well, Annie's told him all about you, so he probably just figures Belle's in good hands, which she is. Right, Belle?'' C.D. glanced up, flashing Eloise a grin. ''I hope Annie doesn't take it too hard.''

''Take what too hard?''

''Her failed attempt at fixing up you and Tom Cornell.''

Even though Eloise knew she'd be a fool to think C.D. cared about becoming steady lovers, her heart lurched. No, don't be crazy, Eloise. He didn't mean anything by the remark. Somehow, she managed a return smile as she set a coffee mug in front of him, suddenly wishing he'd save them both some grief and go home. Last night was magical, and she wanted to keep it that way—a fantasy, liberally splashed with stardust and glitter.

He was watching her. ''Penny for your thoughts.''

''Fifty cents,'' she countered. ''Inflation.''

''Really, what's on your mind, Eloise?''

How could she tell C.D. she'd expected him to be gone before she woke up, or that sharing the morning with him only put her in touch with the vision of a domestic life she secretly wished they shared? Last night, she'd half assumed they had a tacit agreement to pretend their lovemak-ing had never happened, which was why she'd expected to find C.D. gone. She figured it would be as if fantastical things had appeared in the night, then vanished just as mysteriously—just like a pumpkin coach and mice footmen.

But C.D. was still here, clad in tight-fitting, mouthwatering briefs, and he was so attentive to Belle that he could have been her proud parent. Fighting her deeper feelings, Eloise dryly acknowledged that—sans child—this scene could have been a replay of last Valentine's Day when C.D. had been in his kitchen with Nancy Nottingham, except now Eloise was the lucky girl and the setting was her kitchen. And, of course, Eloise was not wearing animal print undergarments.

Who knows who next year's Valentine would be? Eloise thought glumly. Her eyes trailed wistfully over C.D.'s hair that had felt as soft as chenille on her naked shoulders, down the thick coarse thatch matting his bare chest, then down to where his underwear hugged firm male contours. By the time her gaze traveled down long legs to his bare feet, she was able to admit the truth. She'd fall to pieces if another female showed up at C.D. Valentine's house anytime soon. Missy, Bonnie, Connie, Cory...Eloise suddenly felt a rush of jealousy about them all.

So, what was she supposed to do?

Unfortunately this wasn't like choosing accountants or phone carriers and, for once, asking for C.D.'s advice was out of the question. Glancing through the window, she searched the foggy, cloud-filled sky, but it didn't portend well, promising colder temperatures and more snow. Watching the flurries whirl against the barely distinguishable white backdrop, she suddenly remembered a similarly chilly day last year, when she'd agreed to be C.D's social date at a business owner's association meeting. She shook her head at the memory.

''Now, you're definitely thinking about something, Eloise.''

''I just remembered that awful chicken dinner we had,'' she admitted, making him chuckle. ''Remember? At the business owners meeting? You said it was the worst meal you ever ate, and then, the next morning, you brought me a rubber chicken.''

''Something had to commemorate the event.'' Despite her smile, she felt another rush of panic. C.D. wasn't just any friend, he was her best friend. Last night, she'd wanted him so much she'd lost her ability to reason—she'd waited years for the right moment and the right man—but now she needed to preserve the friendship. ''Are you hungry?'' she managed. ''Uh...I was thinking I might make some biscuits, okay?''

A slow grin spread over his face. ''What about you for breakfast? You look great.'' ''C.D., I'm wearing a flannel nightgown, my

hair's a mess...'' Her breath suddenly caught as her mind filled with images of his long fingers mussing it, threading through the strands and massaging her scalp. ''I've got dark smears under my eyes,'' she continued, thinking she'd better put things in perspective before they did wind up back in bed. ''And no lipstick.''

C.D. considered. ''Gee, maybe you should ask Annie about the superego.'' ''Superego?''

''Yeah. Isn't that the name for the part of the personality that can get way too punishing if a woman doesn't get enough sex?''

Sex? She'd had plenty; both her body and heart were still warm with it and aching for more. But why was C.D. ignoring the delicacy of their situation? She forced a scowl. ''I'm not punishing myself, C.D.''

He laughed. ''You do look great, Eloise.'' ''Looks aren't everything.'' She'd never felt more conflicted. If they'd served no other purpose, the years of perfectly touched photographs that graced the Hunters' Christmas cards had proven that external appearances often masked hurting insides. Year after year, Eloise had basked in her father's convincingly loving gaze as they'd posed, and for a second, she'd been sure her whole world was about to change. A buzz would sound from the camera, a light would flash, but then her father would check his watch, turn Eloise over to a housekeeper, and head back to his office.

Sighing, she took in the picture C.D. was creating, looking so comfortably at home in his underwear and happily feeding the toddler. Unwanted emotion threatened to break through her carefully erected facade, and suddenly she feared she'd go for broke, risk their friendship and, like a fool, confess that she was in love with him. Clearing her throat, she said, ''Did you want biscuits or not?''

C.D. lifted an eyebrow critically. ''With icing?''

''Cinnamon.'' ''Swell.''

''You know,'' she said, half to herself, ''you're the only man I know who can use words like 'swell' without a trace of irony and without sounding like an idiot.'' ''One of my many talents.'' Last night C.D. had acquainted her with a good many more, which made his easy acceptance of their changed relationship even more difficult to bear. Given C.D.'s seemingly active sex life, maybe he was used to shifting boundaries and alliances. Worriedly chewing her lower lip, she was leaning to preheat the oven when a knock sounded at the side door.

''Oh,'' she said, agitated at the realization she'd soon be alone with C.D. ''That must be Belle's dad. I wonder why he came around back, instead of to the front door?''

''Maybe he knocked and we didn't hear him.''

''Probably. Shouldn't you put on a robe?'' ''He's a guy. He's seen underwear.'' C.D.'s laughter filled the kitchen again. ''Besides, borrowing one of your bathrobes wouldn't help. I'm not the pink and ruffles type.''

''True,'' she murmured, smoothing her hair. As she opened the door, brutally bitter air swept inside, but it wasn't anywhere near as cold as the scowl on Cory's face. Eyes as black and glossy as her shoulder-length hair flowed from beneath a black knit beret, and her long black coat made her appear imposing to the point of severe. A gloved hand held a red paper plate, and through the plastic wrap, Eloise could see cupcakes decorated with heart sprinkles. ''Eloise,'' said Cory stiffly. ''Cory,'' Eloise replied. Stepping back, she watched curiously as Cory breezed past, then she quickly shut the door, turning just in time to see

Cory drop the plate onto the table and put her hands on her hips.

Frowning, C.D. set down the bowl of applesauce, and glanced up at her. ''Uh...hey, Cory.'' As if she'd barely heard, Cory continued, ''I just wanted to see this for myself.''

''See what?'' Eloise ventured, guilt rushing in on her. She knew Cory and C.D. had never slept together, but they'd had a date last night, and now Cory assumed she'd been stood up because of Eloise. If Eloise hadn't known what to do ten minutes ago, she was even more confused now. Not only had she slept with her best friend, but in less than twenty-four hours, she'd also become the proverbial ''other woman.'' This was definitely a first. She peered at Cory, unsure of the proper protocol. ''Would you care for some coffee?''

Cory ignored her, and if she noticed C.D. was clad only in briefs, she gave no indication. ''I really can't believe this,'' she continued, looking insulted. ''Do you know how guilty I felt last night, C.D. Valentine?''

''Cory, I'm sorry about dinner—'' ''I felt lousy,'' she fumed. ''You said you had to stay here... that poor little defenseless Eloise needed help caring for a baby whose father was

missing. I should have known that was only an excuse. What do you know about kids?''

''Actually,'' Eloise couldn't help but say, hardly liking that she'd been referred to as defenseless. ''He knows a lot. C.D. has seven nieces and nephews, Cory.''

''Thank you, Eloise,'' Cory returned, not sounding the least bit appreciative of her commentary. ''You should know.'' Her eyes riveted on C.D. again. ''All night long, I berated myself for being angry about your breaking our date. How could I be so selfish when you two were desperately trying to find a child's father?''

C.D. looked vaguely uncomfortable. ''No need to beat yourself up about it, Cory.'' ''Really, there's not,'' Eloise added. Cory's eyes pierced around the kitchen. ''I guess not.''

Even though no explanations were required, Eloise found herself saying, ''It wasn't really planned this way, Cory. One thing just led to another...''

''I'll say! And don't play the innocent with me, Eloise.''

Eloise's heart hammered, her temper flared, and suddenly she wasn't sure who she was more angry with—C.D. or Cory, whom she didn't even really know. Eloise wasn't used to scenes, and she should have guessed that wherever C.D. went, he'd bring one with him. Nevertheless, his girlfriends didn't usually attack.

''I should have listened,'' Cory continued with a sigh. ''But I took you at your word, C.D. Last night, I felt guilty and made cupcakes with the kids. This morning, I bring them over... and lo and behold, here you are, still at Eloise's, in your underwear.''

The gray irises of C.D.'s eyes were turning flinty, and when he spoke, his voice carried a soft warning. ''Cory, we've only gone out a couple of times. I really don't think you've got the right—''

''I'm not saying I have the right to intervene in your love life, C.D. What makes me mad is how you keep lying about being available. Every girl at the club told me you're seeing Eloise.''

''Oh, no,'' Eloise assured. ''It's nothing like that.''

Cory turned, her eyes slowly drifting over Eloise, making a point of taking in her mussed hair and generally disheveled appearance. Suddenly Eloise became uncomfortably aware that she was wearing no underwear under the flannel gown and eyed the matching robe she'd draped over one of the chairs.

''Eloise,'' Cory said flatly, as she turned, opened the door, and ushered in another rush of frigid air. ''Has it really escaped your notice that you slept with this man last night? And haven't you ever wondered about the fact that C.D. leaves work ten times a day to run errands for you?'' Cory paused, blowing out a sigh. ''Sorry,'' she continued, ''but my mood has nothing to do with you. It's just that, some days, trying to date is enough to make me want my ex-husband back.'' Suddenly chuckling, she added, ''And that's saying something.'' She stepped onto the porch, turning toward the kitchen just long enough to scrutinize C.D. and Eloise. ''I really can't believe this. Haven't you two figured out you're in love?''

Love? Eloise was barely aware of the door closing, and she didn't realize C.D. had risen until he moved in front of her. She edged back, resting against the counter. Of course, Cory was right. Eloise was in love, which was why she was now as dizzy as a rock climber with vertigo. Her hands skated down the counter, seeking purchase, and even though C.D. was taller than she, she suddenly felt as if she were viewing him from some precarious height.

In love. She and C.D. were just friends! At least from C.D.'s point of view. As his palms slid around her waist, Eloise tried to ignore how

the skin beneath her gown tingled. ''I can't believe Cory said that,'' she murmured apologetically. ''I can.''

A dull ache of temper began worming its way to the surface. It was almost as if C.D. wanted to tease her with the idea that last night meant something more. ''Can what?''

''Believe Cory thinks I'm in love with you,'' he returned. ''Because I am, Eloise.'' While she was still gasping, C.D. said something even more shocking. ''Marry me.''

Her anger was unexpected—it darkened her eyes and deepened the color of her cheeks—and it left C.D. wondering what he'd said wrong. ''Eloise? Didn't you hear me?'' ''I can't believe you said that!'' ''Said what? That I want to marry you?'' He squinted at her, knowing he was definitely missing something here. ''Last night I knew it, but when Cory said it, it hit me again like a ton of bricks. It hit me square in the face, Eloise. However you want to put it. I probably fell in love with you the day you first came over with that pineapple upside-down cake.''

It may have been short, but it was the most heartfelt speech C.D. had ever offered a woman, and he was stunned to see that it had absolutely no effect on Eloise Hunter. Her eyes remained strangely impassioned, luminously dark, and since he was now feeling something suspiciously akin to panic, he quickly covered it with a temper he hoped could match hers. He had his pride, and to say he wasn't exactly used to rejection was a definite understatement. ''Mind telling me what's going through your mind, Eloise?''

''We slept together, C.D. Or don't you remember?''

''Remember?'' Gaping at her, he quickly reached out and closed a hand tightly around her upper arm as if he expected the gesture to make her see reason. ''I've waited all my life for something like last night to happen to me. Seems like you're the one who forgot.'' ''I think we should both forget.'' He never could. His whole life, he'd recall the first instant their bodies joined. Everything—the scent of shampoo and patchouli, sound of her needy whimpers—were embedded in his cells. Now her eyes, which had drifted so hungrily over his body in the moonlight, looked hot and dangerous. ''Never,'' he vowed.

''C'mon, C.D. You've got to leave.'' Leave? Was she crazy? Before he thought it through, he pulled her closer, more forcefully

than he should have, but damn if he cared. Trapping her against the counter, he tried to deny how the contact aroused him in spite of his anger, and he gritted his teeth against the excruciating feel of soft flannel brushing his bare belly. ''You're running scared, Eloise,'' he said with deceptive calm, leaning so close he could have kissed her.

''Don't bully me, C.D.''

''Is that what you call this?'' Pressing harder, letting her feel his arousal, he could see her eyes widen, and could tell she, too, was now thinking of other choice words besides bullying. Her lips slackened, her eyes became temporarily glazed with response, and the soft pant of her quickening breath only served to make him more aware of how perfect they'd been together. ''You liked being with me last night, Eloise. Say it.''

She tried to scoot past him, but he wasn't about to let her go. ''That was last night, C.D.—'' Her voice sounded strangled. ''This is today.''

Something he didn't even know he had inside him suddenly ached. ''Quit it. Don't ruin this, Eloise. You're going to make me wish I don't feel the way I do.''

''Whatever way you feel will pass,'' she assured hotly.

''What makes you say that?'' ''Because with you and other women it always has.''

His hand loosened, the palm sliding to her elbow. As he felt her body heat seeping through the warm flannel gown and into the very fiber of his being, he cursed himself for not being better able to control the wild lust that was still flooding him. Didn't she know what she did to him? ''You're different and you know it, Elo-ise.''

''Maybe they thought they were different, too.'' Her voice quickly turned into the sort of plea that always made him do her bidding. ''C.D., you don't mean what you're saying. I know you. You feel this way right now, but—'' ''Don't tell me what I feel. Last night, I was holding Belle and pretending she was ours. I was imagining we were living together, Eloise, starting a family.''

''You don't know what you're saying!'' ''Of course I do.''

''You're still under the influence of sex.'' ''Yeah,'' he agreed. ''And it was the best sex I ever had.''

Eyes widening, she tried to slip once more from where he'd pinned her to the counter, but he grasped her wrist and hauled her back. The soft crush of her unhindered breasts against his chest made him draw in a sudden, deep steadying breath that carried her heady scent. ''Dammit,'' he bit out. ''You might bring out the best in me, but now I see you can bring out the worst, too.''

She looked like a cornered rat. ''Just go home, C.D. I'm begging you.''

For the life of him, he couldn't understand. ''I know you have feelings for me. No woman could have given me what you did last night if it wasn't so. Cory's right. We've been a couple for years. And last night...'' His big hands circled her waist, anger and lust mingling as he drew in the thick, deep scent of her hair. ''Elo-ise,'' he continued, his voice barely audible, ''I can still smell our lovemaking. And I think you're running away. You're just scared because of how it was growing up with your father.''

''This has nothing to do with my father!''

Looking into eyes that had turned defensive and wary, he realized he'd hit the brick wall of truth, and the closest thing C.D. had ever felt to hatred welled up inside him for the man who'd raised her. No doubt, Terrance Hunter had his own troubles, but Eloise had never stopped offering him her heart. The ravages were obvious every time C.D. picked her up at the airport after

a visit. Her father never called, visited or acknowledged her gifts. ''Get out, C.D.''

She meant it. Sometimes Eloise could talk about her childhood, but now C.D. realized she actually felt threatened by the idea of someone caring about her. And her need for love was so deep that she couldn't even speak it; her fear of abandonment so great, she wouldn't even try.

''Right now you're acting every bit as cold as he is, Eloise,'' C.D. couldn't help but growl in frustration. ''And you'd better think about it. It's you who's destroying what could be between us. Maybe that's what your dad did after your mother died. Maybe he got scared and walked out before something between you two ever began. But growing up to be your father's daughter won't help matters.''

Her posture had gone rigid, her shoulders ramrod straight, her chin tilted up, her gaze haughty. ''I don't know what you're talking about, C.D. Valentine.''

His gray eyes held hers like a vise. ''I'm damning the fact this is happening,'' he admitted. ''Damning it because I've known you such a long time, Eloise. I've watched you, and I know you waste too much time seeking approval from strangers. Now, I can see you don't want a man, and you don't want me. You're after something a lot safer—school activities, babysitting other peoples' kids, being a block representative. You spend your time impressing people you barely know, like those nurses at the hospital. But what's in it for you?

''Your relationship with your father never allowed you to ask that question, did it? No,'' C.D. continued, answering himself. ''Because things were set up so Terrance Hunter always got it all. And now that you could ask that question, you still don't. You know why? Because you don't have the guts to claim some love for yourself.'' Just before he turned and headed toward the hallway, he said, ''You know what else I think?''

She'd gone stark white, the color draining from her face. ''No. And I don't care to hear.'' ''I think letting a man into your life would mean facing the one truth you never could.''

If he had any doubt, the look she offered him now said he'd gone too far. She hated him. ''Which is?''

''That your father never loved you.'' Tears of fury sprang to her eyes as he moved toward the hallway. ''Where do you're think you're going?'' she demanded.

''Exactly where you told me to,'' he said over his shoulder. ''Home.''

Chapter Six

Eloise never wanted to speak to C.D., not that he'd care. Despite what he'd said, two years of knowing him had taught her to read him like a book. He'd spend the evening at the club, and by tomorrow—or at least within the week—he'd have a new infatuation with a woman he could add to the long list of Bonnies, Connies, Missys, Nancys and Corys.

''And Eloises,'' Eloise whispered, still shaking with anger. Even if she wasn't so sure her assessment was correct and that C.D.'s feelings for her didn't run as deep as he said, she'd never speak to him again. The things he'd said about her were simply too cruel. She just wished he was even more honest. He'd long thought of her as a sister, not a love object, and now he was only professing his feelings as a way of assuaging his guilt over what happened.

Dread filled her as his heavy footsteps trudged from the bedroom back down the hallway, and as he approached, she braced herself for another exchange. Instead of coming into the kitchen, though, he headed for the front door. So, that's how much he wanted to avoid her. She winced as the door opened and shut with a resounding thud, her bright, fiery anger fading to a dull ache. Last night was everything she'd dreamed of sharing with a man—and with C.D.—but it wasn't worth losing their friendship.

As she picked up the toddler—who'd been busy messily feeding herself applesauce—the instinctive twining of Belle's arms around her neck filled her with unwanted emotion. When the doorbell rang, her heart lurched. Had the door locked? Did C.D. want back inside?

''No,'' she quickly murmured, blinking back tears. ''I bet it's your dad, Belle.'' Glad for the distraction, she quickly straightened her face, slipped into the robe that matched her gown, then put Belle down to slip on her coat.

''That's a good girl,'' she said, pressing her lips to Belle's temple. Belle had been so frightened and lonely without her father, but now she was clinging to Eloise, her small chubby fingers flexing, grasping fistfuls of the robe. Sighing, training her mind off of C.D., which was next to impossible, Eloise hugged Belle close, the powdery baby scent reminding her that C.D. was right. She did want a child of her own. Desperately.

The only thing C.D. had been wrong about was his own feelings. Claiming to love her, she was sure, was just his way of grappling with their overstepping the bounds of friendship. But even if he apologized, she couldn't forgive the things he'd said. Or stand to be so close to what she could never have. Dammit, he was wrong about her not wanting to accept love. If C.D. was really offering it, she would...

Wouldn't she?

Fighting the tears pressing at her eyes, she lifted Belle's car seat from the table and started down the hallway, the toddler following beside her. Eloise noted that C.D. had left the diaper bags beside the front door. The show of thought-fulness disarmed her, and she was still trying to swallow the lump in her throat when she swung open the door. ''Annie?'' Eloise squinted. What was her friend doing with Tom Cornell?

'''Morning, Eloise.'' With a toss of her blond hair, Annie grinned, hugging an arm around Tom's waist. Looking relieved, Tom leaned to pick up his daughter and give her a hug, murmuring a loving greeting.

''Are you two together? Where's your car?'' Eloise asked Annie, staring into the yard as Annie's three boys tumbled from Tom's car and ran into the snow, packing snowballs.

''Hey, Eloise!'' they shouted. She managed a wave.

''We just dropped the other car at Tom's house,'' said Annie. ''You wouldn't believe what all happened. It's a long story.''

''Care to come in and tell it?'' Eloise's eyes darted between Annie and Tom, lingering on the man who had caused her such distress, although what happened with C.D. gave new meaning to the word.

''You don't need to look at him like that,'' Annie assured her. ''I'll explain everything, although we can't stay. I've got to get the boys to the sitter, then go to the hospital. Really, I would have called—''

''And I would have told you more yesterday,'' Tom interjected quickly, his concerned gaze flickering to Belle. ''Believe me, I had no idea I'd be gone all night, Eloise. I knew Belle was in good hands, of course, but I was—''

''In love,'' piped in Annie with a sweet, girlish giggle. ''That's what Tom said. He drove up to Braxton County, just to tell me that. All night, we tried to call, but the phones never came back on. I told him not to worry about Belle, especially since as of this morning you hadn't left a message on his machine at home.''

''I figured if I told you who I was,'' Tom continued, ''you'd call Annie and warn her...'' He glanced down, his brown eyes warming as they fixed on Annie's. ''Since it was Valentine's Day, I had to tell her how I felt.'' Chuckling, he related the story of his ill-fated drive to Annie's cabin, then he finished by saying, ''I can't thank you enough. Like I said, we started to call this morning, but it was so early when we left.''

''And we were sure you'd be asleep,'' Annie added.

''The boys were acting up in Annie's car,'' Tom continued, ''so we drove straight through.'' Annie added, ''We were following each other on the interstate.''

Eloise was struck by the easy way they finished each other's sentences. Smiles lit their eyes, their cheeks were ruddy with the cold, and their excited voices tumbled over each other while their mingled breath fogged the crisp air. No two people could have been more in love. Her heart wrenched inside her. Last night, she'd had such a taste of this.

''Belle was a sweetheart,'' she managed to assure.

Suddenly she felt as if her heart was being torn in two because deep down she wanted what Annie and Tom shared. C.D.'s voice sounded in her head. I've waited all my life for something like last night to happen. Why did he have to be so delusional? Why couldn't he have meant it? What makes you so sure he didn't?

''What?'' she suddenly said, realizing Annie had spoken.

''I hope watching Belle didn't interfere with any plans last night.'' Eloise shook her head. ''C.D. came over.'' Annie frowned. ''C.D. Valentine?'' As if there was another. ''He took me to the hospital, and we figured out that Belle belonged to Tom.'' Fighting the quiver of her chin, she tried to forget what happened afterward. She glanced at Tom. ''I saw the sticker on your bumper when you dropped her off.''

Tom rushed into another long apology. When he finished, he said, ''This really was a first for me. Belle's never been anywhere overnight, and I was sure I'd only be gone a few hours. I did want to surprise Annie.''

''You said.'' Suddenly feeling as if she might start crying in front of Tom and Annie, she forced an even brighter smile. ''Actually I thought Annie might be harboring secret feelings for you.''

Annie laughed. ''You did? How did you

guess?''

''The strength of your denial. You fixed him up with every woman we know except yourself.''

Annie couldn't have looked more delighted. ''I suppose I did! The boys said I've been crazy about him for months.''

''Well, Annie,'' Tom said, smiling. ''Next time they tell you you're crazy about me, I want you to listen. Meantime, I guess it's time to take home my favorite little hellion, Eloise. To tell you the truth, I can't believe you said she's been a sweetheart.''

''She wasn't at first,'' Eloise admitted, reaching out to stroke Belle's soft cheek. ''Bye-bye, little one.''

At her words, Belle's lower lip trembled. She drew in a shaky breath and released a loud, gulping sob, her dark eyes injured and sulky, darkening with betrayal.

Tom bounced his daughter on his hip and slipped off Eloise's necklace. ''She's about to blow. Here. This must be yours.''

''Let her keep it. I haven't worn it for years.'' ''Thanks, but...'' Tom pressed the necklace into Eloise's hand, ''it's yours.''

''There now, Belle,'' Annie cooed in soft, assuring tones as she reached inside the front door and lifted Belle's diaper bags. ''We'll be seeing Eloise again.''

''No doubt about it, Belle,'' Eloise rejoined. As Tom and Annie went down the porch steps, Eloise looped the necklace through her fingers, the beads feeling as comforting as an old-fashioned rosary. Annie called to the boys and, despite their shouted protests, they ran for the car, spilling inside while Annie and Tom situated Belle. One really could find love overnight, Eloise supposed. Annie's boys were peering curiously at Belle, probably contemplating how it might feel to be big brothers, and right before Annie offered a jaunty wave, Tom gave her a smacking kiss.

Eloise waved back, and when she realized Annie wasn't even watching, her hand stilled in the air. She became conscious of the cold wind whispering against her palms and of the snow flurries melting on her fingertips. Watching the car pull away, she felt a familiar, bone-deep sadness mix with her happiness for Annie, the same sadness that always came when she found herself abruptly left alone. It was a feeling every bit as old as her mother's death. ''Sad but true,'' she whispered to herself.

Realizing she was freezing, Eloise turned and went inside, and with the jocular cries of Annie's boys still ringing in her ears, the house seemed eerily quiet. C.D.'s laughter was here, too, and pushing away another fit of threatening temper, she headed for the jewelry box. Just as she dropped the necklace inside, she glanced into the bureau mirror. Behind her, the bed was still unmade, as was the one in the guest room.

Trying to forget how good C.D. had looked, sprawled across the quilt, she glanced down again and, seeing her father's cuff links, recalled how hard she'd tried to win his love. By the age of five, her heart had broken at least a thousand times when Terrance Hunter had waved goodbye, or when she'd eaten alone after being served by housekeepers who never stayed very long.

The monogrammed letters TH were etched on the square gold links in masculine double-lined print. The night he'd given them to her, she'd disobeyed the housekeeper, snuck from bed, gone downstairs to wait for him, and promptly fallen asleep on the steps. She remembered him shaking her, how her eyes had opened to his, tired from a hard day's work.

''Aren't you supposed to be in bed?''

She'd shaken her head. ''I wanted to see you, Daddy.''

Rising, he'd shrugged from a wool coat and draped it casually over a chair. ''You'd better get back upstairs, pumpkin. Why don't you put these away?''

Pumpkin. The endearment was such a small thing, but more than Eloise had come to expect, and in her hands, the gold links he handed her were like special stones or good luck charms, magical talismans that held real power. Just like Belle, she'd always secretly thought they'd bring her father back. But they never did. C.D. was right. She'd lost Terrance Hunter the day her mother died.

But had his selfishness made her unable to recognize another man's giving spirit? Was Elo-ise so accustomed to being unloved that she couldn't even recognize affection?

''What if I'm wrong about C.D.?'' She couldn't quite believe it, but what if...?

Opening a drawer, she took the first pair of jeans from the stack, thrust her legs into them, then pulled off her gown and tossed it to the armchair. Tugging on a sweater, she tried to ignore the hammering of her heart. ''Whatever you do, don't stop and think.'' Maybe C.D. was assuaging guilt. Or maybe they'd have a love affair that wouldn't last. Maybe Eloise had already lost his friendship. But at least she was going to find out.

''Really,'' she whispered, fiercely trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing as she jammed bare feet into moccasins and curled her fingers over the cuff links once more. ''Maybe I'm wrong about him.''

And for the first time in her life, the man she was talking about wasn't her father.

He was waiting for her.

C.D. hadn't realized it, but when he saw Elo-ise fling open her side door, he became conscious that he was staring through the window in the top portion of his Dutch kitchen door, across the expanse of their joined side yards, his angry eyes narrowed as if his gaze could melt the snow.

Things'll be fine, he'd been thinking. Someone else could water the plants when he went out of town. He wouldn't have to mow her grass anymore, and Annie could pick her up at the airport when she visited her father. Sure, for a while things would be awkward, but maybe C.D. would make it easy on himself and simply sell his house. He wanted a bigger one, anyway. He was sick of this neighborhood. At least that's what he told himself.

Biting back a curse, he watched her come down the porch steps, and he wondered which would be worse—living next door and never speaking, or never even seeing her again. At best, he imagined their relationship evolving into a choreographed system of strained smiles and halfhearted waves across the lawn. Whatever she intended to say now was only going to make things worse, he was sure of it.

''Well, are you coming over or not?'' he muttered, wishing he hadn't seen Annie and Tom Cornell pick up Belle. C.D. didn't know why those two were together, but watching Annie's boys roughhousing in the yard only reminded C.D. of his brothers, and of how much he wanted boys of his own.

Eloise wasn't wearing a coat, just jeans and a sweater, and strong gusts of wind were lifting hair she hadn't bothered to comb. Still disheveled from their lovemaking, it whipped around her face. Bracing himself, he stepped onto the porch, feeling cold wind rushing through the chambray shirt he'd worn yesterday, and when he stared at Eloise, he was actually encouraged to see the determined gleam in her eyes.

Fighting with her, he suddenly decided, was better than nothing. In fact, the closer she got, the more repentant C.D. felt. While he didn't much care for Terrance Hunter, the man was Eloise's father; Eloise loved him, and maybe that's all that should count. With a start, C.D.

realized the gleam in her eyes was tears, and so, by the time she came charging up his steps, his emotions had done a three-sixty and his heart was thudding with hope.

She didn't say a word, only opened a palm, her slender, pink-tipped fingers uncurling, exposing some cuff links. Squinting, C.D. plucked them, his thumb smoothing the gold surface of one, his eyes registering her father's initials. And without a word being spoken, C.D. suddenly understood. By giving up these objects to him, she was signifying her decision to exchange the false hope she'd always held for her father's love for something more real with C.D. Even if she couldn't say it, her eyes were begging him for what her father never offered: love and the promise that C.D. would never abandon her.

It was a promise he knew he could make.

''I don't know,'' she whispered. ''They were in the jewelry box, and I just...'' She drew in a sudden, sharp breath. ''Oh, C.D.,'' she said quickly. ''You were right about my father—it just hurts to hear it. And you know how I feel about you, don't you? But I...'' Her voice caught. ''After last night, I was afraid of losing you, and if we...''

Pocketing the cuff links, he glided his hands around her waist. ''We can't go back to the way things were,'' he said gently, leaning down, his cheek brushing hers.

''No,'' she agreed nervously. ''We can't.''

''Are you ready to say you'll marry me, Elo-ise? I meant what I said.''

Her eyes communicated that she was, but she said, ''I don't know if I can. Let's take it slow, C.D.''

The only thing slow was the smile that spread across his face. ''You're scared,'' he said, wrapping his strong arms more tightly around her, ''but I can convince you to want more from me.''

She glanced up, pain flooding her eyes. ''C.D., I don't know if I...''

He knew she was talking about giving herself to him on a deeper level. ''I know you can.''

''How?''

He thought of the blanket she'd made for his sister. ''Because you're a perfectionist. You always get things right. C'mon, come inside where it's warmer,'' he urged, pulling her across the threshold into the kitchen. ''I'll start convincing you.''

''It is warmer,'' she said, her voice catching with emotion.

''Eloise,'' he promised, ''you're going to be amazed by what we can do together. It can get so much warmer than anything you've ever felt.'' He wanted to say that his loving family would accept her as one of their own, and that he could teach her whatever he knew about love, but instead C.D.'s lips found hers. Her small, firm mouth yielded, imparting heartfelt need that no other woman had ever come close to expressing with him, and he suddenly realized it was Eloise, not him, who'd teach the lessons of loving. ''Never thought I'd wind up with the girl next door.''

Leaning back a fraction, he was glad to see her tear-filled eyes sparkling, making her look like the same old Eloise he knew, and now realized he loved.

''I haven't said yes to anything, C.D.,'' she warned.

''Oh, really?'' ''Really.''

But as he closed the kitchen door on the bitter cold winter morning, her arms wrapped around his waist, feeling warmer than anything C.D. had ever encountered, and he knew what Eloise did—that their fate was sealed.