STILL THE ONE

By

Joan Reeves

Still The One

Copyright 2011 by Joan Reeves

www.JoanReeves.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be used or reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of Joan Reeves, the copyright owner and the publisher of this book, with the exception of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person with whom you wish to share it. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for honoring the copyright laws and for respecting the author's work and her livelihood.

Cover Art Copyright 2011 by Adina B. Reeves, BlakeCreative@hotmail.com.

Photograph Woman Wearing Black Corset and Long Pearls, Copyright 2008 by Catalin Plesa, http://www.catalinpleasa.comby

Dedication

This book is for Micky Chamberlain Reeves, who possesses the finest attributes of any hero who ever graced the pages of a novel. Thank you, Micky, for enriching my life. I couldn't imagine my world without you.

As always, this book is for Larry. My hero. My husband. My heart. Thanks for the memories!

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Meet Joan Reeves

Excerpt, The Trouble With Love by Joan Reeves

Excerpt, Video Vixen by Elaine Raco Chase

Excerpt, In the Garden of Seduction by Cynthia Wicklund

Excerpt, Jane I'm-Still-Single Jones by Joan Reeves

Amusing Book and Author Trivia

Chapter 1

Ally Fletcher had waited six years for this opportunity. Six long years. There was no way a mere thunderstorm was going to stop her. Of course in Texas, calling this a mere thunderstorm was like saying a Texas tornado was a mere puff of wind.

She peered anxiously through the river of rain that washed down the windshield. The sluggish wipers just couldn't keep pace with a downpour that reduced visibility to zero.

Where was the church? It had to be around here somewhere. Had she already crept past the old limestone block building? In this storm, it would be easy to miss just about anything through the curtain of falling rain.

Suddenly, the church loomed out of the early evening fog like the iceberg that had sunk the Titanic. Ally slammed on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel of the rental car sharply to the right in an effort to execute the turn into the parking lot.

Big mistake.

The little blue car made the turn into the drive, but it kept on turning, spinning in a three hundred sixty degree circle. Ally didn't even have time to scream. She fought the steering wheel, but she lost. The little rental car concluded its acrobatic performance by smashing into a sleek black Jaguar parked in the line of cars along the curving driveway. The impact jarred Ally from the top of her too-tight chignon to the toes of her black patent pumps.

The rental car shuddered as if it had the chills and wheezed like an asthmatic in desperate need of an inhaler. Then the engine died without further ado. Ally released the breath that had caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat and slumped over the steering wheel. She ached all over, but she figured it was more from the stress of driving through the storm than the impact of the low-speed crash.

What a perfect ending to a perfectly horrible day!

With shaking hands, she shoved the gear shift into low and turned the ignition key to off. Even though the engine seemed as dead as last year's round-toed pumps, she yanked up the handbrake just in case. The way her luck was running, the damn car might come back to life like some kind of post-apocalyptic zombie.

Ally squared her shoulders. She didn't have time to waste on hysterics. Her flight from Dallas Love Field had landed thirty minutes late at Houston Hobby Airport due to the storm.

Desperate to get to the small town of Brookwood, thirty miles southeast of Houston, she had taken the only available car at the rental agency even though that meant contorting her five feet nine inches into a car obviously engineered for someone built more like one of the inhabitants of Munchkin Land.

Belatedly, the clerk at the rental car counter had warned her that the car's air conditioner was a little tricky. Tricky? Inoperable would have been a more accurate label.

Somehow, she'd negotiated Houston's flooded streets, and, in record time, for rush hour traffic, that is, she'd reached her exit.

By the time Ally had skirted through the Clear Lake area and turned onto the two-lane, black-top road leading to Brookwood near the bay, the rainy June evening had become a steamy experience in the confines of a car about as roomy as a can of tuna. The so-called tricky air conditioner had conspired with Houston's humidity to melt her carefully applied makeup. And now this!

Disgusted, Ally smacked the steering wheel with her palms. She'd just leave the darn car where it was, right front fender smack dab up against the left rear fender of the Jag. She'd take care of this problem, and the sure-to-be irate owner of the Jag, later.

Ally yanked the door handle upward. Nothing happened. The door didn't budge. She groaned. "I don't have time for this," she complained aloud. Exasperated, she pulled hard and shoved with her shoulder at the same time. The door flew open. With a startled cry, Ally fell out into the rain.

Instinctively, she broke her fall with her hands. The asphalt was cold, hard, and wet. She earned herself two abraded palms for her efforts. Her arms felt as if they'd been slammed into, well, cold, hard asphalt. Really angry now, at the lousy car, the rain that drenched her, the rush hour traffic, and the phone call that had started this insanity, she scrambled to her feet. Cursing, she impulsively kicked the offending door with her right foot.

"Owww!" She yelped. But the door slammed and stayed that way. Hopping on her left foot, she realized that cursing in front of a church would have had her grandmother washing her mouth out with soap. Chagrined, and in pain, she moaned, "Can this day possibly get any worse?"

As if the universe answered her, the rain intensified, pelting her with even greater force. Ally blinked and shielded her eyes. This was all Burke's fault. She hadn't seen the blasted man in six years. Six years of a quiet, orderly life. But from the moment her grandmother had mentioned his name today, her world had begun to tip crazily on its axis.

"You're going to pay for this Burke Winslow!" She muttered, shivering in the pouring rain. Limping to the church steps, she winced with pain each time her right foot made contact with the pavement.

Her expensive black silk sheath offered no protection from the weather. She thought longingly of the dress's matching jacket, lost somewhere during the mad dash from Dallas to Houston. And her shoes! Her beautiful, sexy black patent pumps that she'd paid way too much for were ruined. It was all Burke Winslow's fault.

When she'd conceived this plan, Ally had pictured herself arriving at the church and looking as if she'd stepped off the pages of Vogue. Instead, she probably looked like a newspaper photograph of someone who'd been caught in a mudslide.

With her foot throbbing and rain dripping from her hair and her dress, she shoved open the iron-hinged double doors of the church.

This wasn't how this scene was supposed to play out. She should be looking sophisticated and gorgeous in her best outfit. On the plane, she'd envisioned herself strolling down the center aisle of the church, with every man's eye on her. Especially Burke's intense hazel eyes. In her daydream, she'd been calm and collected, and oh, so cool. Well, she was cool, all right, she thought, trying to control her chattering teeth.

For a moment, Ally considered abandoning her impulsive plan. But, maybe, she rationalized, she didn't look as bad as she thought. The moment of sanity flitted by.

When this was over, Ally decided, she was going to have a nice nervous breakdown. Right now, she just didn't have the time. The wedding may have already started.

Chapter 2

Burke Winslow had a knot the size of a hockey puck in his gut. At least it had started in his gut. As soon as the minister had said, "Dearly beloved," the hockey puck had migrated upward. Now, it seemed to be lodged in his throat.

He swallowed. The stiffly-starched white collar encircling his neck made no allowance for a hockey puck. He could hardly breathe. He looked around, not hearing a word the minister was saying. As if in a dream, he noted the baskets of fern and orange-speckled lilies that flanked the altar. Who on earth would pick orange flowers for a wedding?

Three women wearing satin dresses the color of orange sherbet looked distinctly uncomfortable in their puff-sleeved, bell-skirted concoctions. He'd overheard one of the bridesmaids grumble that brides always picked hideous colors and styles for their attendants so that the bride, by contrast, would appear even more beautiful. Then they'd went on to complain about their friend who'd asked them to be bridesmaids. Apparently, she could hold her own with any bridezilla who'd ever marched down a church aisle.

That could be the only justification for the choices made by Tiffany, his business partner. No, he corrected himself. Today she was more than his cut throat, cut-to-the-chase partner. She was, he swallowed hard. His bride. At least in name only.

His bride? A drumbeat began pounding in his temples. Even if in name only, the thought made a shudder of apprehension sweep through him. The hockey puck in his throat enlarged to the size of a football.

Burke glanced to his right. His brother Rod, the best man, and Burke's two best friends, Dave Hernandez and Craig Bishop, groomsmen, stood there, looking far more comfortable in their tuxedos than Burke felt in his. Though judging by their expressions you'd think they were pall bearers at a funeral instead of attendants at a wedding.

His eyes swung back to Tiffany. It was as if he were watching his life flash before his eyes. Suddenly, he wondered what on earth he was doing. Was any business deal worth marrying a woman you didn't love? Sure, old Tiff was a great business partner. She'd helped grow their company to its present financial stature, but a wife? Burke felt a primal instinct to flee. His feet shuffled restlessly.

"What are you doing?" Tiffany hissed.

Burke looked at her and felt as if he were seeing the real Tiffany for the first time. She looked extremely displeased. Odd. He'd never noticed those frown lines between her eyes. True, they were faint, but he could see how they'd be in a few years.

In fact, the more he studied the lines, the more they seemed like furrows carved into her skin. Now that he thought about it, Tiffany did frown quite a bit. He'd never realized that before. Just like he'd never known she had such bad taste. His eyes swung back to the orange sherbet dresses.

Tiffany's green eyes narrowed. Usually, he appreciated that focused stare because it meant she was calculating some strategy that would increase the company's profits. That was one thing he really liked about Tiff, she was all business. Today, however, that shrewd look gave him a definite chill.

"Burke Winslow, don't you dare embarrass me. Now is not the time to get cold feet!"

Burke swallowed hard, forcing saliva past the football in his throat. Her words sounded like the warning hiss from a snake. Not like the sexy whisper a bride should use. Of course, sexy wasn't on the menu in this marriage of convenience. Good thing because he and Tiffany had never had anything close to the hots for each other. He shuddered. The way she seemed to read his mind was positively scary.

"We agreed this was the thing to do. Remember?" she hissed again.

We didn't agree, he wanted to shout. She had conceived this hare-brained plan and had talked him into it. And she sure hadn't hissed when she'd been persuading him to do this. He couldn't marry a woman who hissed even if it was a marriage in name only.

Perspiration popped out on his forehead. Suddenly, Burke was certain that he was making the biggest mistake of his life. No, he corrected himself, the second biggest. The honor of biggest mistake had already been awarded to his first marriage fiasco.

Panicked, he decided that he had to stop this farce before it went any further. But how? Tiffany had a lot of pride. She might be a pain in the neck sometimes, but she was his partner. He sighed. More importantly, she was a friend. And even if she weren't, he didn't make a practice of bruising someone's dignity.

Old Tiff had dignity up to her eye balls, and a stiff-necked unyielding pride. Injuring that pride would be as foolhardy as waving a red flag in front of a Texas longhorn. And it would have just as dire a consequence. She'd be homicidal if he suddenly called the wedding off. From the altar! Burke felt sick. The nauseous feeling gave him immediate inspiration. They'd have to cancel the ceremony if he suddenly tossed his cookies, wouldn't they?

"Burke Winslow!" Tiffany all but growled. "This is the answer to our problem. Remember?"

Her words forced cold reality to counter the emotion that threatened him. He was wedged between a rock and a hard place. With a sigh, he acknowledged that everything had progressed too far. Like a doomed aircraft, they'd passed the point of no return. He'd have to go through with this insanity.

"Yeah, I remember," he muttered for her ears alone. "But this was your idea. I was just fool enough to let you convince me it would work. This is wrong." And in that moment, he knew he couldn't go through with it. Not for any deal. This just wasn't right.

He cleared his throat and prepared to speak up. Tiffany might not have a life outside of business. He'd always thought it strange that a woman who was gorgeous as she, was completely oblivious when it came to men. Why, he'd be surprised if she ever had a date. But he had a social life. Didn't he?

Burke frowned and tried to remember his last date. When he drew a total blank, he realized that he and Tiffany were two of a kind. Maybe they did deserve each other. He suspected that no one else would want the two workaholics.

"Snap out of it!" Tiffany swayed against him and ground her tiny satin-slippered, stiletto-heeled foot into his instep.

Burke grimaced in pain.

"Don't you dare back out," Tiffany whispered. "You agreed, and I'm holding you to it."

Burke swallowed an exclamation of pain and looked into her eyes. Even as panicked as he was, he recognized the warning emanating like laser rays from her big green eyes.

"Okay, okay," he muttered to her. She rewarded him with a pleased smile. She was right. He had agreed with Tiffany that they'd worked too hard to pass up this opportunity. She had come up with the way around their sticky situation. And it wasn't as if he had to romance Tiff. They'd both laughed at that idea.

Okay. So be it. Resigned to his fate, Burke shrugged. He'd survived one divorce. Kind of. He could do it again. At least he wasn't deluding himself that he and Tiffany were madly in love. This wouldn't be bad at all compared to his first marriage and divorce.

He heard the minister solemnly intone, "If anyone here knows why this man and this woman should not be joined in holy wedlock, let him speak now," the minister paused, as if for dramatic effect.

"Stop the wedding!" A woman's voice rang out.

Burke rolled his eyes heavenward and murmured a fervent, "Thank you, Lord." A ripple of subdued laughter broke out in the pews nearest the altar. Sweet relief swept away his desperation like sunshine chased away dark clouds.

Tiffany elbowed him sharply and hissed a command, and called him a name that should never be said in church. Though he felt like laughing aloud, Burke assumed a poker face. He was saved. He'd escaped the matrimonial axe. Despite the mass of rationalizations, he could only rejoice as he turned to view his salvation.

A soft chorus of gasps and whispers swept the church. Someone giggled nervously. Everyone craned their necks to see who had shouted the objection.

A woman limped from the back of the sanctuary. Each step she took squished wetly and left a muddy footprint on the rich amethyst carpet. Even at this distance, she looked oddly familiar.

Her rain-wet hair clung to her head in a drooping knot that seemed to have lost its mooring. It hung precariously above her right ear at the moment while the rest of her hair seemed to be plastered to her forehead. Rain dripped from the hem of her dress. In all, she was the embodiment of the old cliche: she looked like something the cat had dragged in.

"What's the meaning of this?" Tiffany demanded. Crimson stained each sculpted cheekbone. Then she turned on him. "Is this your idea of a joke?" Her narrowed eyes, like chips of green glass, were ablaze with anger.

"No. Of course not. Why would I do something like this? You know I need this marriage." And he did. He needed it. He breathed deeply, nearly weak with relief. He might need a wife, but he sure didn't want one. Especially not Tiffany, and especially not now that he'd had a glimpse of bridezilla.

Sheepishly, he smiled at Tiffany, knowing he wasn't going to proceed with the wedding now that he'd been granted a reprieve in the form of this rain-bedraggled woman. Whoever she was, she was the answer to his desperate prayer.

Somehow, he'd make it up to Tiffany, he vowed, unable to feel any regret. Downright cheerful, he planned how he'd explain it. He'd liken it to a business deal that had fallen through. Old Tiff would understand. She had to because nothing on earth could make him marry her now. He rocked back on his heels, relieved at this turn of events.

"Please. Wait. I can explain," the mud-smeared woman called out. A new round of mutters swept the church.

Burke's smile faltered. He frowned. That voice! His brows snapped together. He straightened and focused his full attention on the woman.

It couldn't be.

He watched as she closed the distance between them. The rain had ruined her hair style. And her shoes. But it had done wonders for her plain dress, one of those black numbers women like to fill their closets with, molding it to a ripe body lushly curved in all the right places. Though the curves were more voluptuous, he still recognized that body.

His eyes flew to the woman's face.

No. It couldn't be.

In the next instant, judging by the way his body responded, Burke faced the truth.

It was!

Beneath the sodden, straggling hair, was the living, breathing proof of the biggest mistake in his life. His ex-wife Ally Fletcher.

Chapter 3

"You!"

All Burke's defenses went on red alert. Adrenalin rushed through his veins. If it were a choice of fight or flight, he'd definitely pick the former. A dizzying cocktail of emotions drugged his senses as he tried to figure out how Ally could have shown up at this time and this place.

A flash flood of emotions hit him. First, relief. That gave way to a dazed joy. Then, in the next instant, all that was burned away by a nice, hot anger, leaving Burke filled with white-hot outrage amidst the six-year-old ashes of pain.

How dare Ally burst in here like this and ruin his wedding? He ignored the small voice inside his head that reminded him of his own reluctance to marry Tiffany.

Burke's anger at Ally's sudden reappearance in his life grew with each wobbly step she took. Did she think she could just rush into his life, and he'd welcome her back to his world with open arms? Well, she had another think coming. He crossed his arms. His jaw hardened with resolve. He'd be delighted to show Ally Fletcher just how over her he was.

He'd fantasized for years about giving her a dose of her own medicine. How would she like a great big spoonful of heartbreak? His eyes narrowed on her face.

Nothing would stop him from marrying Tiffany now, he vowed, especially if that was something Ally objected to. He smiled grimly and waited for his ex-wife to speak so he could show her exactly how little concern he had for her.

Ally's step faltered. She studied Burke's forbidding expression and wished that she had handled things differently. She'd been crazy to fly down here unannounced. She should have called despite Granny Edith's objections. Even a singing telegram would have been preferable to facing him in front of all these people.

Ally felt dizzy as she looked into Burke's hazel eyes. Oh! She remembered those eyes only too well. Once, they'd gazed at her with hot passion. Now, those eyes looked as hard and lethal as stone arrowheads.

"Burke, let me explain," Ally said. She tried to brush the wet tendrils of hair from her forehead as she gathered her courage, but the mixture of rain and hair spray held the strands to her face as securely as nail glue. In that moment, she felt as ugly as when she'd been a chubby child. She fought the feelings of insecurity those memories brought. She was no longer that awkward child, she reminded herself.

"Burke, get her out of here so we can get on with this," Tiffany demanded.

Ally's icy stare could have chilled a martini as she contemplated Burke's bride. Ally disliked the woman on sight. She was exactly the type that Burke had always liked. A petite, blonde Barbie clone with a chest measurement greater than her IQ. In fact, his bride could be a twin to the woman Ally blamed for the breakup of her marriage.

"I would like to speak to you, Burke," Ally said, ignoring the woman. "Privately, please," she added, determined to be rational and calm and unemotional.

"Just go away, whoever you are," Tiffany ordered.

Ally looked the woman up and down. She disliked everything about the woman, from her beautiful, flawless peaches and cream complexion to her tiny feet encased in rhinestone-trimmed white satin heels. How dare Burke's bride look so pristine and perfect after the day to which Ally had been subjected. Ally's dislike deepened.

"What kind of stunt are you pulling, Ally?"

Ally glared back at him. "This is not a stunt, Burke. And this is not easy for me to do. Please? Just hear me out."

Burke's frown deepened. "Easy? When did you ever make it easy on me?" Burke's lips thinned. He braced his fists on his hips and faced the woman who was the hands-down winner of his biggest mistake. Even muddy and bedraggled, she still twisted his insides into knots. Ruthlessly, he shoved his burgeoning desire away. He was crazy, but not crazy enough to let his body countermand his common sense. Not this time.

"I didn't come here to rehash the past," Ally said. A murmur from the crowd drew her attention. She looked over her shoulder.

Burke realized the exact moment when she discovered that a hundred people were hanging on her every word. He eyed her rising blush with satisfaction.

"This better be good. What the, uh," Burke remembered where he was, "what the heck are you doing here?" He crossed his arms, stared down at her as arrogantly as he could manage, and tapped his right foot impatiently.

Ally swallowed hard. His tapping foot sounded like a ticking clock. On a time bomb. She gulped, acutely aware of the rashness of her actions since Granny had told her that Burke was getting married tonight. What had possessed her? If he was this upset with her for stopping the wedding, she didn't want to be within five miles of him when he discovered the reason why she'd interrupted the ceremony. He wasn't going to be a happy camper. And with good reason.

"Ally?" His questioning voice held a note of warning.

She stalled. Her gaze swept the small crowd. She recognized several of the guests. Some even waved to her. They had attended her wedding to Burke in this same church. The memory was bittersweet. Heavy on the bitter.

Burke's grandfather sat on the groom's side of the church, just as he had during her own wedding to Burke. To her surprise, he winked at her. Ally managed a weak smile and nodded. She'd always liked Frederick Winslow.

"Focus, Ally," Burke taunted. "Concentrate. What do you want?"

"Want?" Her eyes flew to Burke's face. Even if he hadn't been standing three steps above her, he would still have towered over her by a few inches. She would not acknowledge the desire that made her toes curl when she looked at him. She wouldn't, she vowed silently.

Now twenty-eight, Burke was even more gorgeous than when she'd married him. His shock of blonde hair was still thick and full. A few faint lines gave his face character and made him more appealing than ever. What did she want? Oh, baby! If only she could have what she wanted!

"Ally!" Burke demanded sharply.

"Yes, well," she said, horrified at how breathless she sounded. Her mouth snapped closed. She suppressed the unexpected desire. Don't even go down that road, she chided herself. But she couldn't stop the shiver that slid up her spine. He had the same sexy, long-lashed hazel eyes that could scorch her with a look. Why had she ever let him get away?

"Oh, I get it." Burke rocked back on his heels, arms crossed as he surveyed her. "This little act is one of your spur of the moment impulses. Now that you're here you don't know what to say? Is this just a knee-jerk reaction to my remarriage? Same old Ally!" He jeered. "You haven't changed a bit."

His harsh words froze the uncurling desire. Stung, Ally cried out, "That's not true."

Cringing at her immature retort, she bit her tongue to keep from telling him that there was nothing about her that remotely resembled the insecure eighteen-year-old girl he had married six years ago. She had changed, and the process had been painful.

Ally took a deep breath. With as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, she responded like a reasonable adult trying to deal with a temperamental child. "Maybe we should go somewhere to discuss this."

Burke's voice dropped low. "You didn't want to talk six years ago," he murmured silkily. "As far as I can see there's nothing to discuss now." His eyes glittered with an emotion that challenged her. "So take a seat or leave."

He smirked, as if he knew how much she would hate what he said next. "I'm getting married, and you can't do a thing about it."

"Oh, you insufferable jerk!" So much for being a reasonable adult. "After all the trouble I went through just to get here. It's not my fault I arrived too late to stop the wedding before it started."

"Would you get out of here so we can get on with this!" Tiffany interjected. "I'm getting married tonight. So please leave so we can get this over with."

Ally stared at the woman. Get this over with? She made the wedding sound like something to cross off her to do list.

"Go sit down," Burke ordered. "You can watch even though you weren't invited."

"You can't get married!" Ally cried, exasperated. "Haven't you been listening?"

"I can, and I will. Now sit down," he commanded sternly.

Ally's last effort at calm serenity evaporated. "I will not. You can't order me around like an errant child. I have something to say to you, Burke Winslow, and you will listen or reap the consequences. And you won't like the consequences."

The murmur from the guests rose in volume to a muted rumble interspersed with laughter and giggles. Ally blushed. Great. Maybe she should charge admission for providing the entertainment.

"Very well, stand there. I don't care." He turned his back to Ally, grabbed Tiffany's hand in a death grip, and said to the minister, "Go ahead, Reverend."

"Uh, Burke," the minister said with a gentle smile. "I can't do that until I hear what the young lady has to say. I'm sure she wouldn't have interrupted such a special occasion unless it was important."

Tiffany jumped into the conversation. "Look, Reverend, I'm sure this is just a case of sour grapes. She's probably some cast-off girlfriend." She checked her watch. "It's getting late. I need to get this over with so I can pack. I've got a meeting in L.A. early in the morning."

A fresh ripple of laughter greeted her statement. Ally stared at the blonde. She was upset about missing a meeting in L.A.? Was the woman completely blind to the man she was marrying?

Ally looked at Burke. He didn't seem agitated in the least by his bride's remarks. What was going on here?

"Please, Reverend, I'm certain we can sort this out afterwards. Right, Burke?" Tiffany asked.

Burke nodded and muttered. "Yeah. Sure." He'd go through with this if it was the last thing he did. He'd show Ally.

"But you can't," Ally protested.

"Ally, go away," he ground out without turning around. He'd show her how it felt to be rejected. Ignored. Revenge was a bitter brew he was eager to sample. "You're not welcome here."

A fresh buzz of conversation greeted his words. The wedding guests were having a field day. By tomorrow, the news of this would be all over Brookwood, he suspected. The weekly newspaper would probably feature it on page one.

Surprisingly, his grandfather had not said a word. Burke turned slightly and glanced over at Frederick Winslow. He was surprised to see amusement gleaming on the older man's face. But then Granddad had tried to talk him out of marrying Tiffany.

"Burke, you have to listen to me," Ally cried.

"I don't have to do anything with you." He turned to face her. His lips curled in a jeering smile.

His deliberate rudeness turned up the heat on Ally's temper up a notch. She should just let him go through with his dumb wedding. Then she'd laugh when he found out. But a pain centered around her heart at the thought of his marrying someone else. Especially the vision of blond loveliness standing next to him at the altar.

"Okay. Okay. What is this all about?" Tiffany asked, throwing up her hands as she whirled around.

"It's nothing, Tiffany." Burke answered. To Ally, he said, "I'm getting married, so just go back to Dallas where you've been hiding for the last six years."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Ally said. She was surprised that he had known where she lived.

"Just how are you going to stop me?"

His smirk was really getting to her. She jerked her head to the exit door. "Let's talk." Just because he was being a horse's ass didn't mean she had to act like one too. "By telling you something. In private, Burke."

"I don't think we have anything to say to each other."

"Stop being so blasted thick-headed and listen for just a minute," Ally demanded, losing the battle to hang onto her temper.

"Can we please make some progress here?" Tiffany demanded. "Burke, go talk to her and get back here so we can finish this."

"Don't call me thick-headed," Burke said, completely ignoring Tiffany. "I'd have thought that you would have grown up a little, but no. You're still the same headstrong girl you were when I first met you. You think you can just waltz in here and wrap me around your little finger again. Well, those days are over, baby."

"Don't call me baby," Ally said between gritted teeth.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do. I'll call you anything I want. Just like I'll get married if I want to."

"For heavens sake, you can't get married, you idiot!" Ally blazed.

"And just why not?" Burke fired back.

"Because you're still married to me!"

Chapter 4

"What?" Tiffany screeched.

Involuntarily, Ally took a step backward, but she needn't have worried. Tiffany's ire was directed solely at Burke.

"Why you. . . you," The would-be bride sputtered. Then she smacked Burke in the face with the lilies she held. For a little woman, she packed quite a wallop, Ally thought with grudging admiration.

Orange pollen rained on his black tuxedo coat, and fragments of orange petals fell to the floor. Without another word, Tiffany whirled and stomped down the steps leading from the altar.

"Wait a minute. I can explain!" Burke protested involuntarily, certain that he couldn't explain this in a million years. He hadn't a clue as to what was going on. The only thing he knew was that the deal with Sakamoto Limited was evaporating before his very eyes. But the overwhelming sense of relief he felt didn't allow him to feel too badly about that fact. The only thing he regretted was the embarrassment Tiffany was suffering. And that Ally had succeeded in disrupting his life again.

"Wait, Tiff! Tiffany! Come back!" He called out, wanting to apologize yet knowing it was useless. Once Tiff got her back up, it took time for her to settle down.

She didn't look back. "I'll talk to you when I get back from the coast," she yelled, punctuating each word with a slap of the wilted lilies against her side. Orange pollen smeared the skirt of the white wedding gown. To the assembled guests, Tiffany waved her hands as if shooing away a flock of curious pigeons. "Everybody just go home!"

A ripple of laughter followed her irate words. Some of the guests rose, but most stayed seated. Obviously they thought the show wasn't yet over, Burke suspected. And in the small town of Brookwood, this had to be the best entertainment around. Actually, probably the only entertainment on a Friday night since high school football was a few months away.

The guests no longer bothered keeping their voices down as they discussed the wedding that would live on in the memory of the small town. Burke didn't dare risk a glance at his brother and his friends. He knew Rod, Dave, and Craig would never forget this. And they'd make damn sure he didn't either.

Burke sighed. No use throwing caution, and pride, to the wind by chasing after his runaway bride. Tiff wouldn't listen to him until her injured pride recovered. In the past, he'd witnessed her ire at what she considered an insult. He'd often accused her of being related to both the Hatfields and the McCoys because of her talent for carrying a grudge. He shuddered, knowing he was in for it now. It just proved the old cliché: be careful what you wish for.

"Burke?" The minister broke into his thoughts. "Would you like me to address your guests?"

Burke rubbed his face with both hands, wishing he could wipe away the ill-fated wedding as easily. "Thanks, Reverend, but I'll take care of it."

He looked first at his brother Rod and his friends Dave and Craig. Inwardly, he groaned. They were going to have a field day with this. Resigned, he turned to the congregation and was greeted by wide grins and snickers. His side of the church seemed to be taking this in stride. In fact they seemed to be having a heck of a good time.

Unfortunately, the bride's side of the church was conspicuously empty. Tiffany's family and friends had already departed. He winced. This situation might be more delicate than he'd thought. Tiffany's father and brothers were bankers in Houston. In fact, they were his bankers. And they weren't noted for their sense of humor.

"Sorry, folks, what can I say?" Burke shrugged. "Thanks for coming. If you're hungry, go on over to The Shrimp Boat. There's no point in wasting all that seafood. And the band should be great. I may even join you later." He forced a grin though he felt no amusement at the way the evening had turned out.

With a determined stride, he descended the steps from the altar and stopped in front of Ally. In a soft, chilling voice, he spoke, "To you, I have a lot to say." He reached out and grabbed her arm. "I think we'll have that talk now."

Ally felt her knees turn to rubber at his touch and her pulse accelerate. Oh, dear! She had made a huge error in judgment. Just his hand touching her made her want to fling herself into his arms. She must have developed temporary insanity. She resisted the urge and tried to shake his hand loose. "Quit mauling me," she grumbled. "Let go."

He ignored her and continued gripping her arm, not allowing any escape. "I wouldn't dare release you. I know how much you love to vanish when my back is turned!"

Ally swallowed hard. Now she was in for it. She should have slipped out with Tiffany's entourage. With dragging feet, and feeling as if she were a five year-old who was being sentenced to the naughty chair, she allowed Burke to lead her down the aisle. A loud buzz of conversation followed them up the aisle.

The walk from the altar to the double doors at the back of the sanctuary seemed interminable. Ally lifted her head proudly as if she were accustomed to appearing at social events looking as if she had swum a raging river to get there. She couldn't help the telltale spots of color that bloomed a deeper red in her mud-streaked cheeks.

After she and Burke walked through the big doors at the back, she shook her arm free of his grip. "That's enough. I'm perfectly capable of walking without your assistance."

"I just want to make sure you don't disappear the way you did six years ago."

Ally had no defense against the truth so she attacked, "Would you just chill?"

"Chill?" Burke's voice rose several decibels. "You've got nerve! You bust in here looking like. . . like. . . ." He waved his hands up and down in front of her, seemingly at a loss for words. "Like this!" He finally exclaimed. "And break up my wedding. And I'm supposed to chill?"

He shook his head side to side. "What did you do? Crawl in the rain all the way from Dallas?"

"No, I flew, but I stopped off for a few quick bouts of mud wrestling," she quipped, refusing to allow him to see how his words hurt her. So much for her foolish notion that she would impress him with how sophisticated and mature she was. "What does my appearance have to do with anything anyway?" she sputtered, pulling the hardened, hairspray-soaked strands of hair from her right cheek. She winced.

He looked her over again from head to toe. "If you were mud wrestling, it looks as if the mud won." Then the corners of his mouth tilted.

Ally sputtered, "For your information, Mr. Burke Winslow,"

His laughter interrupted her. "Don't you dare laugh at me," Ally stormed.

"I can't help it. If you could see how you look. I can't begin to imagine how you ended up looking like a drowned rat."

"A drowned rat?" she asked between clenched teeth. Score a big fat zero for her effort to make him desire her! "Why, I did it purposely so I'd have something in common with the dirty rat I came to see."

"Uh, uh, uh, Ally. Sticks and stones," he taunted.

Ally seized the ragged edges of her composure. "Look, let's forget my appearance. It has nothing to do with this anyway."

"It has a lot to do with it. It shows how irresponsible and impulsive you still are. You barge in here looking like a homeless woman, and you break up my wedding on some jealous whim. I'd say I have a right to be upset."

"Well, maybe I have a right to be upset too!" Ally countered, seething anew. "And I have a news flash for you, you pompous, arrogant ass. I did not break up your wedding on a jealous whim."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure about that? The way I see it, you just can't get over me."

His words incensed Ally. "You're crazy if you think I've been pining away for you for the last six years. Why, I've hardly thought of you in all that time because of all the other men in my life," she lied. A thought struck her. "How did you know I lived in Dallas anyway?"

"What do you mean?" Burke looked discomfited.

"In the church, you accused me of hiding in Dallas."

He shrugged. "Somebody must have mentioned it to me."

"For the record, I wasn't hiding in Dallas, and I wasn't carrying the torch for you either." Why couldn't he see that she had become all the things he'd wanted in a woman? She was intelligent, sophisticated, mature, and successful, or so her friends assured her each time they badgered her into allowing them to fix her up with the current "catch of the week."

Ally rubbed her arm where his hand had touched her. She swore she could feel the impression of his palm on her skin. It tingled in a way that speeded up her pulse. That had never happened with any of the men she'd dated.

"So tell me, why did you ruin my wedding if it wasn't because of unrequited love?"

"It's certainly not because I like making a fool of myself." She closed her eyes, determined to put an end to this fruitless bickering. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Look, this mutual needling isn't doing either of us any good." She gestured toward the double doors. "Those doors are going to open any minute now, and we'll be surrounded by all those curious friends and relatives of yours. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of being the star attraction of this evening's entertainment."

"Yeah." Burke looked around. "You're right. Come on. We won't be disturbed in the church parlor." He bowed slightly and gestured with his right hand. "After you."

Ally directed a withering glare at him. He'd better not burst into laughter again. She whirled and lifted her head regally. "I remember the way to the parlor."

During the short walk from the sanctuary to the big room that served as a kitchen and social meeting room, Ally tried hard to restore her equilibrium. Now was her chance to show Burke how different she was. She'd do that. Even if it killed her.

Actually, she was amazed that Burke had accepted her reasonable suggestion. The Burke she'd known would have protested and continued arguing.

Moments later, Burke pushed open the parlor door. Ally entered the dark room and stopped, unable to see anything. Burke reached out and touched her shoulder. She shivered. Oh, if only he still didn't have this effect on her!

"Stay here and let me get the lights." He walked away, leaving her to wonder at the reaction of her nerve endings to a simple touch from him.

She moistened her lips. How would it feel if he touched her with more than casual interest? Ally was glad he had not noticed her reaction. She'd have to watch herself. Just being around him called up patterned behaviors. That must be what her problem was, she reasoned. In the past, she'd always melted when he'd touched her. It was like some kind of muscle memory. Inconvenient but she could handle it.

Fluorescent lights flickered then flooded the room. "Come on," Burke said as he walked to the restaurant-equipped kitchen at the end of the room.

Now composed and wanting to put an end to what had been a less than brilliant plan, Ally walked to the seating arrangement at the opposite end of the room.

The large room that served as a gathering place for church members had changed little since she'd last been here. An upright piano still occupied one corner and a red-brick fireplace the other one. Two long olive green couches separated by a rectangular oak coffee table were arranged perpendicular to the fireplace. A pair of large, over-stuffed, rust red club chairs faced the fireplace.

Ally realized suddenly how tired she was. "I think I'll just curl up in one of these chairs and try to pretend the last few hours didn't happen," she said. Forgetting the day's ordeal and the embarrassment of the evening would take some doing though.

"No offense, but I think you should go to the rest room around the corner and, shall we say, freshen up?" Burke said, his eyes glinting with amusement as they swept her from her straggling hair to her muddy shoes.

Looking down at herself, Ally had to agree. She was too filthy to even perch on the edge of the chair's seat.

"Good idea. Would you excuse me please?"

"Of course." Burke bowed from the waist. "How could I refuse such a formal request?"

Ally refused to spar with him anymore. "Jerk," she muttered beneath her breath as she smiled at him.

In the ladies' room, Ally caught sight of herself in the mirror and nearly shrieked. It was worse than she had imagined. Sophisticated and desirable? Ha! No wonder he wasn't impressed!

Her sleek, shining dark hair had been replaced by a dull, mud-colored mess hanging from the side of her head. Gravity seemed a certain winner over the single hairpin that precariously held it. Her best dress was a disaster.

With lots of water and all the paper towels in the dispenser, she tried to improve her appearance. When she turned her attention to her hair, she realized that her comb was in her purse. In the rental car. Oh, goodness. She remembered she hadn't even locked the darn piece of automotive junk. In fact, she'd left the keys in the ignition too.

"That blasted car!" She wailed. She'd completely forgotten that crumpled blue problem. As soon as she finished talking to Burke, she had to locate the guest who owned the Jag. Ally said a quick prayer that the rental car would start so she could get back to the airport before her flight left tonight. That is, assuming Burke didn't do her bodily harm after she told her little tale.

"That will have to do," she told her reflection. Why couldn't she look like the woman she'd worked so hard to become? She might not be the model-thin girl she'd been when Burke had married her, but she looked good.

More importantly, she'd made peace with herself. She no longer saw the chubby, unhappy teen who'd dieted and exercised herself to thinness just to get into a bikini the summer after her high school graduation. Once thin though, she'd never looked at her reflection without seeing a fat girl looking back. Eventually, that had changed.

Poor Burke! When she'd met him that summer day, he'd had no idea that her first bikini hid more than the vital parts of her anatomy. It also hid the insecurity of the transformed chubby teen. That insecurity had given birth to the worst kind of jealousy. It had eat at her like acid whenever Burke had come in contact with another woman. That was really what had destroyed her marriage. At least she'd gained something from losing the only man she'd ever loved. She had discovered herself. She was a few pounds heavier now, but she was comfortable with that fact and with herself.

Ally frowned, remembering the vision of beauty that Tiffany had presented at the altar. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection. Feeling drab next to Tiffany was as ridiculous as her supposed motivation in coming here, she decided, leaving the restroom.

Burke had made himself at home in the kitchen. He was intent on his task and didn't notice her. She soaked up every detail of his appearance from his thick, sandy hair to his polished shoes. His face had matured attractively. Faint lines fanned out from his intoxicating eyes and added character to his face which now revealed a tough strength.

His body had matured too. She felt her heartbeat accelerate as she looked at him. Gone was the lean young college boy. He was well-muscled and filled his clothes in a way that made her wonder what he looked like without them. Burke wasn't the twenty-two year old she'd fallen in love with. He had become a man. A very desirable man. Tuxedos were unfair weapons in the war between the sexes. No man should have such an advantage over a woman. To her discomfort, he looked drop dead sexy in the severe black suit. And she could only wonder what he looked like out of it.

The scent of his musky aftershave teased her. She watched silently as he measured water for the coffee maker. She found her gaze fixed on his hands, large and tanned, as they completed the simple task. A shiver coursed down her spine. She remembered a time when his hands had touched her and made her insane with longing. No. She had to stop this. She shook her head and roused herself from her reverie.

"Want me to do that?" she offered. When they'd been married, Burke had been in charge of the kitchen. She couldn't even boil water. "Your coffee is memorable, but not because it was good."

"You know how to make coffee?" he asked, looking as surprised as he sounded.

Ally laughed. "It's not exactly rocket science. Is it really so surprising that I can make coffee?" The laughter eased some of the tension from her.

He grinned. "When we were married, you burned everything. Even the coffee."

She felt his gaze on her freshly-scrubbed face. She remembered how he used to rain kisses on her. How he'd tease the little dimple at the right corner of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She shivered. "Well, that was six years ago," she replied. "Times change."

"You look different," Burke said. "You're not as thin as before but that's not a bad thing. You look good. Strong. Healthy."

"Like my tan?" she quipped, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.

Burke didn't answer. She felt his gaze on her arms, and she knew he'd find them muscled, not skinny. She looked up and noticed he was studying her breasts.

She blushed and pretended not to notice yet she did notice that he was staring as intently as if he were trying to guess her new bra size. She'd chosen the sleeveless dress because her best friend told her it revealed a body that would make a man take a second look, and a third.

"Uh, yeah. Nice tan. So you grew muscles in all the right places during the last six years," he murmured.

Ally wondered if he found the differences in her appearance appealing. She knew her body was riper, not that of a teen any longer. She'd looked great when they'd been married, but she'd felt fat and ugly. To her consternation, she noticed that his gaze had returned to her breasts. She blushed and felt the heat rise, streaking from where his eyes stared up to her face. She could feel the blush all the way to her hairline.

Burke cleared his throat and turned away abruptly. "You were completely inept in the kitchen," he grumbled.

"I'm a lot more ept now." Ally chuckled.

"I would hope so," Burke mumbled.

Ally was glad that Burke had turned away. His gaze made her want crazy, unattainable things. He belonged to another woman now. That thought filled her with despair. There was no use torturing herself.

"Look, I need to get back to the airport as soon as possible, and there's a little problem with my transportation." She waved her hands as if to dismiss her words. "But never mind. That's my problem, not yours. In any event, my return flight to Dallas leaves in a couple of hours. So why don't we get to it?"

Get to it? Burke had an instant mental picture of what he'd like to get to. He didn't trust himself to reply. He'd love to get to it with her. But not the conversation she had in mind. He clicked the coffee maker on and proceeded to open the cabinet door. On the pretext of selecting coffee mugs, he took time to corral his wayward thoughts and will the blood to reverse its flow and head back to his brain.

After a moment, Ally said, "Burke?" She frowned. He knew she'd always hated it when she thought he was ignoring her. So what if he acted like the Burke that she'd always complained about. If he irritated her enough, she'd react like the Ally of old.

"Burke, if we hurry and finish, maybe you can catch your cute little bride before she hops the plane for the coast," Ally said.

Burke swung around to look at her and found her looking discomfited. He grinned, glad she was off-balance. Plus the idea of Tiffany being described that way struck Burke as hilarious. "Tiffany? Cute?"

Ally bristled. "What's so funny?"

"I don't think I've ever heard Tiffany described quite that way before."

Ally couldn't seem to keep her mouth shut. "Well, she's just the cutest little thing I've ever seen. Just the way you like your women, right?" As soon as the words left her mouth, Ally wished she could call them back. How could she convince him she’d changed with impulsive comments like that? Her jealous words called up all the hurt from the past.

"I guess you should know. After all, you're an expert on the kind of women I like. Right?" After a moment, Burke said quietly, "I don't play those games any more, Ally."

Ally looked away. "I know how that sounded." She took a deep breath and apologized. "I'm sorry. Let's just forget I said that." Her eyes entreated him. "It was just a bad joke," she said lamely.

"Okay," he agreed, looking surprised by her apology. "Let’s just forget it."

Ally knew he wasn't convinced that she was any different, and she wanted more than anything for him to know she really had changed. With all her heart, she regretted that her jealousy and possessiveness had destroyed them. She'd regretted all those days when he had worked so hard to make Ally believe in him and in his love.

"After all," Burke said, "I'm not married to you any more." He frowned. "Or am I?"

"Don’t worry about it, Burke. This awkward situation can be easily remedied. Then you’ll be free to marry Tiffany." Sadness filled Ally. She'd been wrong to come here. She should have called. Why hadn't she?

Ally's soft comment again surprised Burke. He had to fight the urge to tell her that his wedding was just a business arrangement. What was it about the woman that made him want to explain? Made him want her to believe him? Hadn't he learned anything? He bet if he pushed the right buttons, Ally's control would shatter easily. Maybe she'd throw a tantrum the way she had when they were married? Then he'd get over this . . . this desire to pull her into his arms.

"Tiffany is everything a man could want." Burke said, knowing that once those would have been fighting words to Ally who seemed to view every female between the age of sixteen and sixty as a threat.

Ally clamped down on the green monster which suddenly reared its ugly head. She just bet the blond bimbo was exactly what men wanted. But she wasn't going to let him see that his words incited her to jealousy.

"Then you must feel very lucky," she said calmly, and walked away. Glancing back at him, she caught him staring at her as if thunder-struck. Good, she thought. Let him see that she was confident and unaffected by petty emotions. "I'm sure if I got to know Tiffany that I'd like her very much." She added for good measure.

Burke felt an odd emotion at her words. He couldn't figure out why he suddenly felt so depressed. Shaking his head in confusion, he filled their coffee mugs, adding milk and sugar to Ally's. Suddenly, it dawned on him why her words upset him. Ally couldn't still care for him if she was so calm and placid about Tiffany. And, perversely, that bothered him. Shaken by that insight, he stood holding the steaming mugs of coffee and stared at her as she strolled around the room. He didn’t want her to be unaffected, damn it.

He tried to tell himself it was for the best. No one could live on the emotional roller coaster he and Ally had ridden for the nine months of their marriage. Why just look at the torrent of emotion she had unleashed just by coming here tonight. They'd sniped at each other and flung insults just like in the old days. Old habits were hard to break, he guessed. He took a deep breath and began walking toward her.

"Well, I guess it really is over," he said lightly. But he didn’t really believe it. "I had some crazy thought that, despite what you said, you really came here to reconcile with me." He knew that if he had more time with her that she’d revert to old habits and reveal her true self.

"Reconcile?" Ally laughed. "Why, what a thought, Burke. She was proud of her performance. "How silly."

"Yes, I guess it was my overactive imagination," he joked, feeling more uncertain by the minute. Could she really no longer care? At her continued laughter, he said testily, "It wasn't that funny!"

Ally smiled. "The first time you and Tiffany get to Dallas, we'll have to have dinner together." That would be when they wore snow suits in Texas in July, she thought, holding her fake smile in place.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. That will be fun." Burke said as he handed her the coffee mug. An awkward silence fell between them. Was it really, finally over between them?

Burke seated himself on one of the couches. Ally turned away and set the mug down on the coffee table. She blinked the mistiness from her eyes and sat on the other couch opposite him. She was being silly, but she felt as if she'd lost him all over again. She swallowed hard, refusing to give in to maudlin sentiment. Their relationship had ended long ago. Apparently, despite everything, she just hadn't accepted that fact.

"Yes," she said bravely. “Dinner with you and your," her mouth snapped shut. Wife. She couldn't say that word. "With you and Tiffany will be lovely." As if interested, Ally pretended to study the design on the coffee cup. Why did she feel so desolate? She'd made a good life for herself without Burke. But, if she could change what had happened six years ago. She risked a glance at him. He made her want to throw the past, and caution, out the window. No other man had ever had this effect on her.

"So tell me why you broke up my wedding." Burke asked.

"Oh, yes." Ally took a deep breath. Being near Burke, she felt like a poor little moth contemplating the flame. “You're sure you're ready to hear this?"

"Quit stalling. At the moment, I'm calm and relaxed, but the chill pill is starting to wear off. I've waited about as long as I can. So start talking. What's this all about?"

He might be calm now, but it was just the calm before the storm. “I think I'll need this to make it through my story." She sipped her coffee then grimaced.

"What's the matter? Didn't I put in enough milk and sugar to disguise the taste of coffee?"

"Actually, I drink it black now." She felt oddly pleased that he'd remembered how she'd drunk her coffee.

"Oh." He looked sheepish. "I'll get you another cup." He reached for the mug. Their fingers touched, and, suddenly, all Ally could hear was the sound of their breathing. She forgot what they were talking about.

"What?" she asked breathlessly. She fought the temptation to close her eyes and lean toward him.

"Huh?" Burke asked. His eyes looked deep into hers.

Ally's breath caught in her throat. She moved her index finger a millimeter. It slid against his for a brief moment.

Burke's hand jerked. Coffee sloshed over the rim of his mug and onto his fingers. "Ouch!"

The spell was broken. "Are you all right?" Ally asked, pulling the mug from his hand.

"Sure." He pulled his handkerchief from his inside coat pocket and wiped his fingers.

"The coffee is fine this way," she said hurriedly. "I don't mind it at all."

Burke's pulse raced like a quarter horse pounding the track. "Okay. Go on with your story." He settled back. His hand felt shaky. He made a fist and squeezed it. He nodded at Ally and gave her a tentative smile.

When she smiled back at him, Burke stared at the tiny dimple that peeked out from the corner of her mouth. He remembered kissing that dimple. And, suddenly, the only thing he wanted was to kiss it again. What was between them couldn't be over. It couldn't be if he still felt this need, this hunger for her. Whatever had drawn them together still smoldered between them. At least it did inside him. Time seemed to stop for an instant. When it started again, his heart pounded at double speed to catch up. Ally stirred up impulses that would get him into all kinds of trouble.

Ally kept reminding herself that Burke was six feet two inches of trouble. He didn’t belong to her any more. She needed to get this snafu taken care of and then her life, and his, could get back to normal. She'd go home to Dallas and continue her peaceful life. Her peaceful, dull, boring life, a little voice inside her amended. That was what she wanted.

Wasn't it?

Chapter 5

"You remember when we decided to get divorced?" Ally asked.

Burke's brows shot up. "Decided to get a divorce? The way I remember it, there was no decision. You decided on your own to get one. I had no say in the matter."

"Well, you precipitated the matter. I distinctly recall the situation."

"Yeah," he said, disgust shading his voice. "So do I. You were in a jealous rage when I came home late after a study session."

"A study session with that woman you spent more time with than with me!" Ally said, trying to keep her voice calm.

"And you launched into an all out attack, listing my so-called flings since we'd been married." Burke scowled. "I don't know how you think I'd have had the energy to carry on with that many women when I was working full time, not to mention trying to finish my master's degree. Babysitting you and trying to keep you happy was a full time job in itself."

"Babysitting me? Is that how you saw our marriage? Why, you!" Ally couldn't think of anything foul enough to call him. Guilt rode her hard. He was right, and she knew it though she didn't want to acknowledge it. The truth hurt. She lashed out, "You insensitive, arrogant. . .man!"

Dismayed that she'd lost control despite her best intentions, she clamped her lips shut, determined to control her roiling emotions. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of thinking she was still that immature. With immense effort, she gained control of her anger, but hurt colored her next words. "I didn't come here to get into that. All I'm trying to tell you is what happened. But, back then. . . ." Her hands twisted in her lap. "I was upset. You told me if I thought you were running around then to divorce you. So I did. I just forgot to sign the darn papers and get them filed."

"You forgot to sign them?" he asked, his disbelief evident. "How could you forget a thing like that?"

"I told you. I was upset!" She blew her breath out and stared at him as if daring him to challenge her.

"Upset? You don't know upset." He slammed his mug down on the coffee table so hard, black liquid sloshed over onto the varnished oak.

"Well, if you're so smart, why didn't you realize they hadn't been filed? Didn't you think it strange when you never received copies?"

Burke retrieved his mug and gulped his coffee. It burned all the way down. He didn't look at Ally nor reply. He remembered how he’d thought maybe she had come to her senses. After a while, he’d conveniently forgotten the matter.

"Well, don't you have an answer?" she prodded.

"I was upset too," he muttered, not looking at her and not willing to give her the satisfaction of knowing that he’d thought she would come back to him.

Ally was speechless. Was that hurt she heard in his voice? She cleared her throat. "Yes, well, that's understandable."

"So how did you find out that we weren't really divorced?"

"I had a call from my grandmother. You remember Granny Edith?"

"The one who lives in Galveston, right?" He grinned. "Though I haven't seen her in years, I remember her well. I always thought she and my Granddad would have hit it off."

"Oh, no." Ally shook her head vigorously. "I don't think they'd have anything in common."

"Sure they would." He rolled his eyes. "That's beside the point. We don't need to get into an argument over that. Go on with your story."

Granny called me at the office today. She said she'd been cleaning out the attic where I have some things stored. In one of the boxes, she found the divorce papers. She looked them over and realized they'd never been signed."

Ally shrugged. "I don't know how, but she knew that you were getting married today and thought she better tell me."

"Wow. I can't believe it. Still married after six years of living single."

Ally bet his single life had been more exciting than hers. Oh, she'd dated, but not seriously. Of course, she'd been busy with college and establishing a career.

Preston Kesey was the only man she dated regularly, but instead of a lover, Preston had become her best friend. Neither of them wanted more than friendship, but, she decided, Burke didn't need to know that.

"This news will certainly put a crimp in my social life," Ally said, preferring him to think she had to beat the men off with a stick. "But I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn't stopped your wedding."

"Yeah," he said. "Bigamy isn't something I want to list on my resume. I suppose I should thank you for arriving when you did. I just wish it hadn't been quite so dramatic."

"You and me both. Making a spectacle of myself isn't my idea of fun. Too bad Tiffany didn't stick around to hear the explanation."

"Well, she probably wouldn't have had time anyway. She still had to pack," his voice trailed off. He flushed.

"Yes, so she said." Ally couldn't help herself. "I don't mean to be nosy, but she seemed rather, uh, oddly concerned with business."

"Oh, that." Burke’s ego rallied to the occasion. He was horrified that Ally would probably think he couldn't get a woman. He resented the fact that no woman had ever come close to inciting the emotion in him that Ally had tapped. This was his chance to show her that she didn't still have a hold on him. Because she didn't!

"Well, Tiff and I are business partners first and foremost." Let Ally infer whatever she pleased from that fatuous statement, he decided.

Ally dropped her eyes. "Oh. How convenient."

"Tiffany is a woman in a million," he elaborated, choosing his words carefully. "We've been business partners for years. We share the same priorities in business and life."

"How nice," Ally murmured.

I am not jealous of that witch. I am not jealous.

"We've been together long enough for our relationship to withstand the test of time," Burke said expansively. Nothing he'd said was exactly a lie, he rationalized.

"How wonderful," she murmured.

"Our company needs an influx of capital to expand. That’s created a lot of stress. That's one reason Tiffany reacted so oddly. She's stressed out. She's really a wonderful person. I'm sure you would see that if you got to know her."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll become the best of friends," Ally said. Sure. When pigs skydive.

Burke looked at her closely. Was she mocking him? "Anyway, we hit a brick wall in our expansion plans. Tonight was just an example of, uh, frayed nerves."

That's all he would say, Burke decided. Let her go back to Dallas and then he'd worry about getting the money from Sakamoto Limited. Without having to take a wife to do it.

"So you'll go on with your wedding as soon as this problem is taken care of?"

"Oh, sure," he lied. "When you've been partners as long as Tiffany and I have, you take things like this in stride."

Partners, huh? Ally gritted her teeth. Why didn’t he just say lovers? "I see," she managed to reply. "It sounds as if you have a great arrangement. The best of all worlds with none of the legal entanglements. Why spoil a good thing by getting married?"

Burke shrugged. "To make a long story short, in order to close this deal, I need a wife. Japanese investors are extremely conservative. The gentleman who owns Sakamoto Limited is even more strait-laced than is usual. According to my sources, he views our company as too risky because Tiffany and I jointly own the company and neither of us is married. So we decided to eliminate the problem by formalizing our arrangement."

"Eliminate the problem? Formalize the arrangement?" Ally's voice trailed off as if she hadn't heard correctly or didn't believe what she'd heard. She shook her head. "That's sounds like you're writing a business plan. You and Tiffany were getting married because you needed a wife? To close a business deal?"

"And he still needs one." Burke and Ally turned toward his grandfather's voice.

Frederick Winslow stood in the doorway. "That coffee smells good. Think I'll join you in a cup." He grinned at them. "As they used to say, Elvis has left the building."

"I beg your pardon?" Ally frowned. "Did you say something about Elvis?"

"Granddad, I didn't hear you come in." Burke wasn't surprised to see his grandfather. Frederick Winslow seemed to have a knack for being in the center of action in everything. He suspected the man missed his glory days of bossing oil drilling crews.

"What I mean to say is the chick has flown the coop. Tiffany's dad came back in and told me that they'd be bobsledding down the highest hill in Hades before he'd let his daughter go through this farce again."

Burke shrugged. "Can't say I blame him. Guess Tiffany and I are back to square one."

He didn’t sound very upset about the situation, Ally thought. Maybe he wasn’t as committed to Tiffany as he wanted her to think.

"So what are you going to do, son? You still need a wife. I rather think your partner has decided it's not going to be part of her job description."

Burke shrugged. "I'll think of something."

"I guess I've made a mess of things," Ally said uncertainly.

"Did Burke tell you everything?" Frederick Winslow asked. Before she could answer, he said, "It's a good thing I decided to pop over here. I can shed some light on this situation."

Burke cringed. With Ally's attention on his grandfather, Burke shook his head and pressed his index finger to his lips in an effort to warn the man not to say anything else.

His grandfather had never been enthusiastic about the wedding and would no doubt spill the beans to Ally that Tiffany and he had never even had a date. He’d be sure Ally knew every detail about Burke's miserable social life.

Unfortunately, Frederick Winslow either didn't understand, or he chose to ignore the warning. Knowing how quick-witted his grandfather was, Burke figured the tall, white-haired man who'd raised him and Rod had decided, for whatever reasons, to ignore Burke because he plunged ahead.

"Did you tell Ally why you and Tiffany came up with this wild scheme?"

"A little," Burke muttered. He was going to be humiliated. "I was just about to, uh, clear things up when you walked in."

"Well, don't let me stop you. I'll just be quiet as a mouse."

That would be the day, Burke thought. "Granddad, I'll take care of this. You can go on home. I'll drop by later and fill you in," Burke said.

"Oh, that's too much bother for you. I'll just hang out here for a while." He raised his long arms over his head and stretched. "I got tired of listening to all the gossip over in the church. You'd think those people didn't know there was a perfectly good baseball game on tonight. They could be home watching the Astros beat the heck out of the Rangers, but they'd rather flap their jaws about you and Ally."

Burke and Ally groaned in unison.

"Let me get my coffee. Go ahead, Burke. Don't mind me." Frederick served himself then came over and sat next to Ally on the couch.

Burke didn't miss the glimmer of amusement in his grandfather's eyes. Granddad was enjoying this little comedy.

"I was telling Ally about Sakamoto Limited. You see, Ally, my company has developed software that will revolutionize the computer industry."

"What's the name of your company?" she asked.

Burke grinned. "Byte Me, Baby. Spelled b-y-t-e."

"That's cute," Ally said, laughing. "So what does your company do?"

"We design and manufacture computer software, specifically for low-tech users like seniors. We offer the most user-friendly tutorials created just for people who know nothing about computers. Our latest product makes it possible for users to customize their desktop easier than ever before. Someone can compose a list of the software they want in their machine, and our software will go through a search and destroy, adjust the registry, and organize the software requested. Then it will delete everything else that isn't wanted, including duplicate files, icons on the desktop, everything that was bundled and sold with the computer. You know all those limited trials and other bloatware."

"That’s such a good idea." Ally felt an undeniable sense of pride for his achievements. "I’ve wanted to get rid of that excess stuff, but I discovered that if you delete a program you don’t want then another program you might want could be affected and not work properly if the registry was altered."

"Exactly. Our software will analyze every file of every program that you want and then configure the entire system to work properly. Just think of the market for a product like this that's just plain easy to use. We've worked for four years to develop this."

"When Burke and Tiffany first went into business, they bought the old Havenpark Social Club building," Frederick said.

"It didn't cost much to remodel it for producing our first products, mostly games, but we need to expand and upgrade the facility before production can be started on this new project," Burke said.

"So that's where Sakamoto comes in," she summed up.

"Right. We need a capital investment to get underway. Of course, we'll recover the start-up expenses in a relatively short period of time."

"I see why this is so important to you," she said.

"Even by Japanese standards, Sakamoto is terribly old-fashioned. He thinks that a man and woman who are business partners, and not married to each other. . . ." Burke shrugged.

Frederick laughed. "He thinks if you're not married then you must be engaging in some kind of hanky-panky on the side. Isn't that a hoot? And he's not some old codger like me, either. But don't let me interfere with your story. Go on, son."

"As I was saying," Burke tried again.

"Heck, that man acts as if women and men can't work together without their hormones getting the better of them and wrecking the company," Frederic interjected. "He ought to know by looking at your financials that you and Tiffany don't have any hormones!"

Ally choked back a laugh, but she didn't say anything.

Burke winced. "Thanks, Granddad. You want to tell the rest of this story?"

"Shoot, no, son, you're doing a great job." Frederick leaned back and sipped his coffee. "Go on."

"Sakamoto also thinks that an unmarried man is an unstable man. According to his philosophy, married men have more at stake and work harder."

"So to make a long story short," Frederick interrupted again, "if Tiffany and Burke want the money, they have to get hitched to somebody. So they decided getting hitched to each other was the perfect answer."

Burke rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm glad I finally had the chance to tell this story," he muttered. He looked at his grandfather. Frederick's blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

Uh, oh. Burke knew that look. He'd seen it every time Frederick had tricked him and Rod into doing something they didn't want to do, such as getting them to work at the local hamburger joint rather than hitching to Alaska to work on a fishing boat which both boys had decided they must do one summer. Well, it wasn't going to work this time. Whatever it might be, he wasn't falling for Frederick's tricks.

"That's a very, uh, interesting story," Ally said. Was he involved with Tiffany or wasn't he? Though she didn't have a concrete answer from Burke about their relationship, she felt a glimmer of hope that this marriage of his was nothing more than a convenience. "Well, I'm sorry I upset your plans."

"Yeah, I can hear the regret in your voice," Burke muttered.

After a sip of coffee, Frederick said, "You clean up real nice, Ally. But then you always were a pretty girl."

Ally smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Winslow."

"Now, now. Don't call me Mr. Winslow. You called me Granddad before, and I assume somehow or other that you're still married to my grandson so you're still entitled to call me Granddad. And I won't take no for an answer."

"All right, Granddad. So is there more to this story? Any deep dark secret about the morally indignant Mr. Sakamoto?"

"Sakamoto is coming here next week. I guess Burke will lose the deal, even though it would be a perfect investment for Sakamoto." Frederick snorted. "Maybe it's just as well. This deal has Burke and Tiffany acting like a couple of clowns."

"Thanks, Granddad, for continuing to clarify and explain so succinctly," Burke said dryly.

"Aw, shucks, son. I just feel real strongly about making a travesty of the sacrament of marriage even if you seem convinced that good business partners make good marriage partners." He sighed loudly. "Though I guess if you marry someone you like, there's always the chance that you could grow to love them. What do you think, Ally?"

That observation took all the wind out of her sails. Ally studied the coffee in her cup as if it held the answer to the meaning of life. When she'd been married to Burke, if she were honest, she'd admit that all he seemed to care about was getting ahead. But back then, she couldn't acknowledge that fact. She'd been too overwhelmed with her own immature fear that he was seeing other women. Either way, she'd felt ignored. Apparently, his career was still the most important thing in his life. In Tiffany, he'd found a woman who fit into his plans perfectly.

"Yes, I think love can grow between two people," she said softly. She pictured Burke with the beautiful Tiffany, day after day. Not to mention, night after night. It might start out as a business arrangement, but given the intimacy of the situation, he was bound to succumb to Tiffany's charms. She was beautiful. And he wasn't the kind of man to choose a celibate life. With sinking spirits, she realized that she'd only bought a delay in his wedding. For the first time, she admitted to herself that she'd wished for more.

"Tell me what brought you to Houston, Ally," Frederick said. "Guess there must have been something wrong with that divorce you got?"

"Dear old cousin Will who handled my divorce didn't have enough sense to follow up. Guess that's why he only practiced law for a year," she said, lightly.

"Well, I'll be a ring-tailed possum."

"Granddad, don't you think that's overdoing it a little?" Burke asked dryly.

"But I'm just amazed as all get out," Frederick said. "I mean, you need a wife, Burke. As it turns out, you've already got one!"

Chapter 6

"Oh, no. Don't even think what you're thinking," Ally warned. Impersonating his wife wasn't what she had bargained for. It ran a distant second to what she wanted, she realized with a start.

"Why not? This would be the perfect answer to my problem?" Burke said. He cocked his head to the side and studied her as if appraising her for the role.

"I am not the answer to your problem." He hadn't changed in his ambition. His career still took priority. And he had Tiffany when he needed more than work. Burke didn't want her back. He just wanted his blasted deal to succeed. "I didn't come here to be your wife, Burke. I came to get our divorce back on track. We need to do whatever is necessary to make it official."

"We can do that too as soon as the deal goes through, if that's what you want."

Hurt by his easy agreement to the divorce, Ally said, "Good. That's exactly what I want. I don't want to be married to you any more than you want to be married to me." He need never know that part of her had wished that he'd take one look at her and fall for her all over again. What a hopeless romantic she was.

Burke said, "You're certainly in a hurry to be legally free. Why is that? Got someone waiting in the wings."

Ally met his eyes across the room and knew she'd lied to herself when she'd decided to return here. She hadn't just wanted him to see the woman she had become. She'd wanted him to fall in love with her again.

Oh, Ally, you fool!

"Well, do you have a boyfriend waiting for you?"

The devil made her do it. That is the only excuse she could come up with for her reply. "Why, yes, I do. And he's just the most wonderful man in the world."

Burke's brows snapped together. "I see. No wonder you wanted to get this divorce processed." He paused a moment, then said coolly, "For now though, you're still my wife."

Ally shivered, knowing she was getting in over her head. "Quit saying that. I am not your wife."

Burke felt like punching her mystery man. "That's not what you said in the church less than an hour ago." So she had another man, huh? It hadn't taken her long to replace him. After all, it had only been six years. Why was she in such a hurry?

"I did not come here to break up your wedding because I wanted to be your wife again. I'd have to be insane to want that, wouldn't I?"

"Thanks a lot," he said. His mind worked furiously. This could be his chance. Whoa! He applied the mental brakes. His chance for what? To show Ally that he didn't need her. Right? Or was it something else? He pushed the thought away. This was a chance for revenge. What else could it possibly be? She'd broken his heart, and now she'd come back to stomp on it, with tales of her new boyfriend, for good measure. Well, he'd show her that she didn't have any hold on him any more.

"I mean," Ally added hastily, "it's not as if you've been sitting around waiting for me to come back to you, now is it?"

"You're right. I'd have to be crazy to have expected, or wanted, that."

"Good. Fine. Then we're agreed." Ally crossed her arms and leaned back, seething. Then she relaxed her arms and forced herself to reach for her coffee as if the matter was of no importance. She sternly commanded herself to get this over with and leave before she made a worse fool of herself.

"But you are still his wife," Frederick said with a chuckle. "It sure would solve a lot of immediate problems."

"Stop saying that, Granddad. I'm not his wife."

"Me thinks thou doth protest too much," Burke said, eyes glinting.

"Well, you can doth think whatever you doth please." Her heart pounded in a confusion of emotions.

Burke frowned. "Granddad's right. I need a wife, and you're here."

"No, he's not right. We're married in name only."

"Well, that's okay. It would be a business arrangement just like Burke and Tiffany were going to have," Frederick put in. "A marriage of convenience."

"I don't think so, Granddad," Ally said, trying not to shout. Marriage of convenience my foot! Ally was willing to bet that the business Burke and Tiffany were engaged in was monkey business as much as computer business. Even if they weren't, did the elderly man really think that Burke would have kept his hands off Tiffany for long? Maybe Frederick Winslow had forgotten what it was like to be in intimate quarters with a member of the opposite sex, but she hadn't.

How could she possibly have a marriage in name only with Burke, the one man, the only man, who excited every nerve ending in her body?

Burke studied the panicked expression on Ally's face. What was she so upset about? Was the idea of being his wife so abhorrent? His wife. The two words had an unsettling effect on him. He told himself it was just because he was excited over finding a solution to his immediate problem. Teaching Ally a lesson would just be an extra bonus.

"Actually, Burke," Frederick insisted, "Ally's coming here is the answer to all your problems."

When Ally squawked in protest, Frederick said, "Just hear me out. What you've proposed is brilliant."

"I didn't propose anything!" Ally protested.

"Ally, you can't run away and leave Burke in the lurch. You're the one who put him on the spot. If you had signed the divorce papers the way you should have, then he wouldn't be in this predicament. Or if you had let him know before now. But you showed up and sent Tiffany flying. The way I see it, you're responsible for this mess."

"No, Granddad!" Ally shook her head vehemently.

Frederick stood then swayed as if disoriented. He pressed his hand over his forehead. "Oh, my!"

"What's wrong?" Burke leaped to his grandfather's side and grabbed the elderly man's right arm. Ally rushed to his other side.

"Here, sit down," she urged. "Let me get you some water." She dashed to the kitchen and was back in an instant.

"Now, now, don't fuss over me," Frederick groused, sipping the glass of water she pressed on him. "I guess I'm just so stressed out by this whole situation."

Ally felt terrible. "I'm so sorry," she said contritely.

Lines of worry creased Burke's forehead. "Do I need to call a doctor?"

"No, no. I'll be fine. Just a little dizzy spell. Guess this has all been too much excitement for me."

Ally and Burke's eyes met over Frederick's head. Her eyes questioned. His accused. Burke shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, at a loss to explain his grandfather's sudden ill health. Frederick hadn't complained of any health problems. As far as he knew, his grandfather was in perfect health. Worried, he faced the fact, for the first time, that Frederick Winslow wasn't a young man any more.

"I've just been so upset over this Sakamoto thing that my blood pressure has gotten out of control," Frederick said.

"I didn't know you had a blood pressure problem," Burke said, feeling guilty. He'd been so busy that he had neglected his grandfather the last few weeks. Had that been when Frederick started suffering from high blood pressure?

"Well, it's not something I brag about."

Burke studied Frederick closely but his grandfather didn't look any different than he ever did. In fact, he looked to be the very picture of good health. Puzzled, he wondered about this sudden blood pressure problem.

"Just relax," Ally urged. "We won't talk of this any more."

"No, we need to talk about it," Frederic insisted. "Burke has to play host next week. Ally, your plan is his only chance. You two are still married. It's the perfect answer. Even if Burke wanted to get divorced and remarried, he couldn't accomplish it in enough time. And that's assuming Tiffany still wants to go through with the marriage."

"This is emotional blackmail," Ally wailed.

"Oh, dear," Frederick gasped and closed his eyes.

"There, there," Ally said, hurriedly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Burke shushed her. "That's enough for now. We'll talk later," he muttered, as much puzzled as concerned.

Contrite, she realized he was right. But she had to return to Dallas. She wouldn't be able to handle a steady diet of Burke Winslow.

"Ally, you owe this to Burke," Frederick insisted. "If it hadn't been for you, he'd be married by now."

"It's not my fault," she protested feebly. But in her heart, she felt guilty.

"You're the one who stopped the wedding, aren't you?" Frederick asked.

"Yes, but. . . but it wouldn't have been legal," she stammered.

"Sakamoto wouldn't have known that," Frederick said.

"Yes, but. . . ." Ally's voice trailed off.

"And Burke has worked too hard to lose everything now."

"Granddad, the deal isn't that important," Burke said with a shrug.

"Not important? Then why were you and Tiffany going to marry just to make it work?"

Burke frowned, uncomfortable at the question. The deal was important but it wouldn't shut him down if it didn't go through. Maybe his priorities were out of kilter. Perhaps work had become too important. It had been the only thing that had kept him going after Ally had left him.

"Think of all the embarrassment you caused Tiffany and her family," Frederick said, "not to mention the ridicule Burke will receive."

"Yes, but," Ally tried again, her voice softer than before. She felt that she was fighting a battle she couldn't possibly win.

"To sum it up," Frederick said, pressing her hand, "You've sabotaged Burke's future."

Ally felt miserable. "That's not what I intended. I didn't know the ramifications of this."

"I believe you, child. But this is your chance to make it right. Play the role of Burke's wife for the next month. Then when the papers are signed, you and Burke can file for divorce. That's what you both want, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," they replied in unison.

Ally wavered. They were asking far more than she was willing to part with. How could she be next to Burke, day in and day out, and the nights, the voice of temptation whispered, and not fall completely in love with him again? This wasn't what she'd expected! But she didn't want to upset Frederick any more than he already was.

Burke watched Ally as she considered Frederick's scheme. He really should be honest with her and tell her that the fate of his company didn't hang in the balance. But something held him silent. Maybe Ally did owe him something for leaving him the way she had six years ago. He looked her up and down, certain that she was unaware of his perusal. Maybe he just wanted to find out if she still went up in flames when he kissed her.

Kissed her! What was he thinking? Get a grip, he commanded himself. There would be no kissing. This was just going to be a marriage of convenience. Just the way it would have been if Tiffany had gone through with the ceremony. He reminded himself that her jealousy had destroyed their marriage. She'd broken his heart.

His resolve hardened. "Decide now. Tell me one way or the other," he told her brusquely.

"Give me a minute! I'm thinking." Ally worried her lower lip with her teeth as she considered all the ramifications of this little deal. She knew it was a mistake. Somehow, she would have to find a way to play Burke's wife yet keep her emotions in check. She looked up at him and sighed. Otherwise, she'd never get out of this intact.

"This is a dumb plan," she protested, "but I guess I have no choice."

"It may be dumb, but I don't have a choice either. I've got thirty employees, and their families, to think about. It's not just my future. It's theirs too," he defended. Somehow, he didn't feel a pang of guilt at coercing her with half-truths.

Ally twisted her hands. "I didn't think of it that way."

"You never did. Think that is. That's the way you were in the past so why should I think you'd be any different today?"

"That's not fair. I am not the silly, starry-eyed girl I was six years ago."

Burke looked her up and down. "Except for some obvious physical differences." His left brow arched. "I can't see that you're any different."

"That's insulting. It doesn't seem as if you have changed much either."

"Oh, but I have. I'm not the trusting soul I once was. You cured me of that," he said.

"I could say the same if we are going to trade insults. One thing is certain. You're still the same autocratic arrogant chauvinist that I was married to. That's an excellent reason for us to make this divorce official. So if I have to play your wife to get this divorce, then fine!"

"Children, children. You're giving me a headache. Stop arguing. You'll have those nosy people from the church poking their heads in here at any moment. Maybe I should leave you two alone to thrash this out. As they say, three's a crowd."

"No, don't go," Ally pleaded, not wanting to be alone with Burke. "You need to rest."

"I feel much better. Just needed a moment of rest I suppose. You need to work this out with Burke."

Frederick ambled over to the door and paused. "Now, you kids work out the details. I know you both are sensible, mature adults. Put the past behind you. Forget that passion you once had. Don't even think about all that lust and sex."

Frederick left them standing there, looking like two uncertain, gawky kids. As soon as he was far enough away from the parlor, he pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and placed a call.

"Hi, Darlin'," he said. "It went like clock-work, even better than we planned. I've stirred the pot, and they should just about be coming to a boil real soon."

"I'll be glad when these kids get straightened out." His voice dropped to a husky whisper, "Then maybe we can have a wedding of our own."

A grin broke over his face. "I should be at your place in about an hour. Will you wait up for me?"

He was still smiling broadly as he punched the button to end the conversation. He and his sweetheart had planned carefully. The rest was up to Burkey and Ally. If the two had any brains, they'd be plotting how to seduce the other right about now.

Chapter 7

After his grandfather left, Burke was silent. Should he come clean with Ally and tell her that his business wouldn't fail if this deal didn't go through? If he did, she'd be gone. Some perverse imp inside him didn't want that to happen even though he knew it would be best for both of them. "Okay, he said, "It's agreed then. You'll be my wife."

The words struck a chord deep in Ally's heart. Her lips curved in a smile.

"For a month," he added.

Ally's silly smile faded as if it were a chalk sidewalk drawing washed away by a bucket of water. "As long as I get the divorce for real," she said briskly. She needed to sever this tie once and for all.

"That's what we both want. Right?"

"Indeed." Her pride or her feminine ego, whatever you want to call it, was responsible for her next lie. "I want the right to continue seeing my," she paused. She should say lover, but she choked on the word. She couldn't lie quite so blatantly. "My friend," she concluded. "I don't want this arrangement to interfere with my relationship with Preston."

"Preston?"

"Preston Kesey, the man I mentioned? He and I are," she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "We're special friends."

"Yeah?" Burke's mouth twisted in derision. "Special friends, huh?" He felt a wave of anger sweep through him. "What does he do for a living?"

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"I just want to make sure he can support you properly."

"You're living in the dark ages, Burke. Women don't need a man to support them any more."

"Aha! So he's unemployed!" He felt a savage satisfaction.

"He is not. He's an artist of some renown. His work is in collections from the east coast to the west. Actually, he's quite a celebrity." Ally crossed her fingers. Poor Preston, he really was talented, but his work just hadn't caught on yet.

Burke made a rude sound. "A celebrity, huh."

"Now what's wrong? When you thought he was a bum, you seemed pleased. Now that you realize he isn't, you're disgruntled?"

"Are you and this Pearson living together?" he asked, ignoring her complaint.

"Preston," Ally corrected. "No, we are both so independent," she said brightly. "We keep separate residences but it's rather pointless since we spend most of our time together. He's expecting me tonight. That's why I wanted to leave for Dallas as soon as possible."

"Can't stand a night away from him, huh?" Burke looked more sour with each passing minute.

Ally stared at Burke in surprise. Why, he sounded jealous! He couldn't be envious of a man he'd never met. Especially not because of her.

"That's right. It's difficult to be separated," she said, watching his expression carefully. She was amazed to see the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench as if he were chewing on something distasteful. Impossible as it seemed, he was jealous. Ally recognized the symptoms. She'd been the victim of that negative emotion all the months of her marriage to Burke. Oddly, the knowledge that he was jealous, exhilarated her. She should feel sorry for him, she chastened herself, because she knew first hand how destructive jealousy could be.

"How old is he?" Burke growled.

"My, so many questions." Ally couldn't have been more surprised by this unexpected turn of events. "I think Preston must be a year or two younger than I."

"A younger man!" Burke pounced on the tidbit as if he'd been awarded a prize. "That's disgusting."

"Why?" she asked. "Men date younger women all the time, and no one raises an eyebrow over that.

"That's different. A younger man and older woman? Everyone knows why that's disgusting," he muttered.

"Then do enlighten me. I guess I must not be everyone because I don't see anything wrong with it."

"You wouldn't. Surely you don't dally with every Tom, Dick, and Pearsall that comes along."

"What are you implying?" So he was jealous, was he?

How many times had she been consumed with jealousy because of him? He hadn't cut her any slack. Wasn't turn about supposed to be fair play? She looked right into his eyes, lowered her voice to a soft purr and said, "I don't dally. When it comes to my men, I'm completely serious."

To her delight, the color in his face rose to an alarming shade of red. Satisfied with this little experiment, Ally toyed with the idea of having Burke walk the full mile in her shoes. Let him learn how jealousy could make a person absolutely miserable. Maybe he'd learn some compassion from the experience.

His hazel gaze held hers. Oh, baby! She felt liquid heat pooling in every erogenous zone she possessed. She'd never be able to spend a month around him. Not even to teach him a lesson. Not without jumping his bones. "I think playing your wife for a month may be too long. Let's say I'll do it for a week."

"Impossible! It's got to be a month," Burke replied quickly.

She shook her head. "Nope. That won't do. I might be able to manage two weeks." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I suppose I could get Preston to look after my apartment," she said, just to gauge his response.

His lips tightened. "Fine," he snapped. "Do it. I'm sure Percy can manage without you for two weeks."

"Preston," Ally corrected with a soft sigh. She hoped Preston never found out how she'd misrepresented their relationship. "When do you want this marriage of convenience to begin? I'll need to go home and pack before we get started."

"Oh, no. I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'll buy you whatever you need."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to refuse to come back." Although once she made her escape, she could probably think up a good excuse for not returning.

"I believe you. Let's just say a new wardrobe is my treat. Let's call it a bonus to seal the deal between us."

Ally started to argue but was interrupted by Frederick. He strode in, looking hale and hearty as if the dizzy episode hadn't happened.

"Burke!" Frederick called. "You're not going to believe what happened to your Jag."

An hour later, a small crowd, mostly male, had gathered in the dark to watch a tow truck haul away Ally's rental car. Headlights of the remaining cars in the driveway illuminated the scene.

Every man still there had gone over and run a hand over the scratched fender of the Jaguar as if to soothe the beast, Ally thought, finding some small humor in the scene. Men were so funny where cars were concerned.

"Ally, I got to hand it to you. This has been one of the most entertaining Fridays I've spent in months," Rod said, grinning like a monkey.

"Yeah, that's me. Miss Entertainment." Her lips twisted in a weak smile.

"Do you do birthdays, or just weddings?" Craig Bishop asked.

"Call my agent. We'll talk," Ally muttered, looking over to where Burke stood with Dave Hernandez. Both men stared dolefully at the Jaguar.

The tow truck driver finally had the rental car hitched up. Ally signed the appropriate papers and turned away. At least the rain had stopped.

"So what do you do for an encore?" Rod asked.

"I haven't decided," Ally said. "Probably just something minor like put my foot in my mouth." She wanted to apologize again to Burke, but he and Dave Hernandez were still conducting a wake by the fender of the Jaguar.

Then Burke looked over at Ally as if just remembering her presence. "Come on, Ally." He pressed a button on his alarm pad. The Jaguar chirped.

His brusque tone of voice put her back up immediately. She didn't move. Instead, she and Burke conducted a staring contest. He blinked first.

"Okay, he said, pursing his lips and nodding. He walked around and opened the passenger door. "Now?"

"Don't bark at me," Ally said, standing her ground. Someone, Rod she thought, laughed, but then quickly suppressed it.

"I'm not barking. I'm making a perfectly reasonable request for you to get your lovely tush over here and get into the car."

"With you?"

"No, with Brad Pitt. Of course, with me."

"Don't be sarcastic. Maybe I don't want to go with you. I'll get a ride with your brother."

Rod held up both hands and backed away. "Oh, no. I may be just a dumb college prof, but I'm smart enough not to get in the middle of this."

Ally turned to Craig. Before she could even speak, Craig said, "Sorry, Dave and I rode over with Rod."

"Now will you get in the car?" Burke demanded.

"No. You're still mad about the scratch. I don't want you taking it out on me."

"The scratch? Is that what you're calling the two foot square area where the fender is dented and the paint is scratched?"

"Dented? Ha! You'd need a microscope to see that dent. The rental took the worst of that impact. Okay. Maybe the paint is scratched a little." At his scowl, she conceded, "Okay a lot, but it was an accident." Ally stared at the muscle in Burke's jaw. It popped in and out as if he were chewing nails. She sighed and apologized again. "I really am sorry about your car."

"Let's just drop it," Burke suggested.

"It's not as if she did it on purpose," Rod said.

"Right," Ally chimed in. "And besides, it's just a scratch. I don't know what the big deal is. A little primer, a little paint." She shrugged. "It'll be as good as new."

"I'll tell you what the big deal is. That car represents a heck of a lot more than transportation."

"Oh, yes. A man and his car. It's your status in life, your corporate image." She rolled her eyes.

"No, it's the first thing I bought with my own money. It's long hours unbroken by anything except hard work. It's the reward I gave myself for putting my nose to the grind stone after you walked out on me."

"Wow, all that, huh?" Ally said lightly, not wanting to give voice to the sympathy his words elicited.

"Let me give you some advice, Ally. Since you dropped in, you've busted up my wedding, insulted me endlessly, chased away my business partner, and wrecked my car. I'd say it hasn't been a good evening. So, one, don't tell me what to do. And two, get in the car. Now!"

Her sympathy dried up. "You might intimidate your business associates with that roar, but it doesn't cut any ice with me." His scowl looked ferocious enough to scare the pants off anyone, she thought, feeling as if she were poking a sharp stick in a lion's face.

Unrestrained laughter greeted her words.

Burke threw his hands into the air. "I give up. You are the most infuriating woman."

"Don't even think it, Burke," his friend Dave counseled him. "The prison term wouldn't be worth it."

Even Ally had to struggle not to smile at that.

"Granddad would you help me out here?" Burke implored.

Frederick laughed and took Ally's arm. "Come on, child. Burke gets kind of cranky when he's tired."

Burke rolled his eyes but didn't say a word. He slid onto the luxurious leather seat and waited.

Frederick held the car door open for Ally. She tossed her purse in first then seated herself. Frederick said, "Burke will get you settled in for the night. You look kind of bushed too."

"I am," she admitted, suppressing a yawn.

"Just remember," he said softly so only she could hear, "his bark is a lot worse than his bite."

"I don't know, Granddad," Ally whispered back. "He looks as if he'd like to take a bite out of my hide right now."

Frederick laughed. "Looks are often deceiving, child. He might want to bite you, but not in the way you think." He winked at her. Then he slammed the car door.

Burke started the car and rocketed away from the curb as if afraid she might try to jump out in a last ditch effort to defy him. As soon as he'd put a couple of blocks between them and the church, he slowed to a normal speed.

Ally was intensely aware of his presence in the close confines of the car. Frederick's advice had surprised her. Thoughtfully, she studied Burke, her husband, she thought feeling warm all over at the thought. Still her husband. She'd never have guessed this day would have ended with them driving away together for the avowed purpose of playing husband and wife again albeit in name only

After a minute, she said, "I didn't know Brookwood had a motel now." She gazed out the darkened window as Burke drove along the oak-lined main street.

"It doesn't."

"Then where are we going?" She turned to look at him.

"Where do you think? To my house."

Ally's heart thundered. "Oh, no. I don't think so. Just turn this car around and take me back to Houston. You can just stop at the first motel you come to."

Burke's hands tightened on the wheel. "No way."

"I'm not staying with you tonight."

She could see his smirk in the darkness.

"Don't worry, Ally. Your dubious virtue will be safe with me."

"Do you go out of your way to insult me?"

"No, it just comes naturally." He snickered.

"What do you mean by that crack about my virtue?"

"Hey, you're the one who bragged about your conquests."

"I did not!"

"You did. You said you didn't dally. That you were serious about your men. Men is plural. What other conclusion should I have drawn?"

Ally growled in frustration. "You are impossible."

"Besides, your antics this evening have completely worn me out. I'm too tired to drive into Houston. You have to get used to my house sooner or later so it might as well be sooner. It's going to be your home now too."

"Only for two weeks. And the clock doesn't start until tomorrow as far as I'm concerned."

"This is ridiculous," Burke snorted. "What's the difference between tonight or in the morning?"

"Plenty. So just drive me to Houston"

"You certainly have become a demanding woman. When we were married, you never asked for anything other than my undying attention twenty-four hours a day," he finished sarcastically.

"That's because my self-esteem is a heck of a lot healthier now than it was then."

"What does that mean?"

Ally clamped her mouth shut. She wasn't about to bare her soul to him. "Believe me I don't want your attention. Not even for twenty-four seconds," she said.

"Good, because you're not getting it. And you're not getting a ride to Houston either."

Her temper flared. "I may have gotten more demanding, but you've become impossible."

"Get used to it. And get used to the idea of staying in my house. It's part of the package. Don't worry. I have no designs on your virtue." He looked over and grinned.

She'd like to slap that smirk off his face. She chewed on her lower lip. "I agreed to this under duress. I don't think I gave it enough thought. You and your grandfather rushed me into this deal before I could consider the ramifications. We didn't even set any ground rules."

"Ground rules?" He laughed, but he didn't sound amused.

"I may have been railroaded into doing this, but I demand that we set some rules. I want it clearly understood what is allowed and what isn't." That was her only hope of keeping him at arm's length.

"This is not some kind of dating game, Ally."

"I beg to differ."

"You're my wife."

"I'm posing as your wife," she interjected.

"So that means you have to be comfortable around me and my home. So you must live at my house."

"Act as if I live at your house."

"You'll be my hostess, and fulfill all the duties of a wife."

"Ha! You mean pretend to fulfill all the wifely duties."

"Yeah, whatever. Pose, pretend, act." Burke sighed. It was obvious his patience had worn thin. "I give up. There does that satisfy you?"

"I guess so. But let's get back to this sleeping at your house tonight."

"Ally!" He groaned.

She held her hands up. "Just listen. I didn't come prepared to stay in Houston. I don't even have a toothbrush, much less a nightgown."

"Then I'll stop and get you one. There's a twenty-four hour drug store in Brookwood."

"Okay. I'll need some face cleanser, facial scrub pads, toner, night cream, eye cream, moisturizer, deodorant, dental floss, toothpaste, a vent brush, shampoo, a blow dryer," Ally rattled on, determined not to make this easy on him. She listed everything she could possibly think of.

Burke said in amazement, "You need all that for one night?"

"More or less," Ally said, glad that she was proving to be an annoyance. He'd regret shanghaiing her into staying in Houston.

"When we were married, you never used all that face stuff."

"Well, I'm older now. I have to be more careful about my looks."

"Doesn't Pierce object when you crawl into bed with that greasy stuff all over your face?" he asked testily.

"Well, I don't use it when Preston is around," she said snottily.

Burke fell silent. He didn't like the mental picture playing in his head. He hated the thought of her and another man. He swung into the drugstore parking lot. "Fine, let's get what you need and go home."

An hour later and nearly two hundred dollars poorer, he hustled Ally into the car and slammed the door. He was amazed that face junk had such high price tags. He was equally amazed that a woman had to have all that stuff just to go to bed at night and look half-way presentable the next morning. Driving away, he grumbled, "Are you satisfied now?"

"I still need a nightgown and something to wear in the morning."

"I thought the drugstore might have pajamas. So I guess you're out of luck. Brookwood doesn't boast an all-night department store. Not even a Wally World so you'll have to wait until tomorrow to go clothes shopping. You can use tonight to draw up your list. I'm sure it'll be extensive," he said dryly.

"Well, what am I going to sleep in?"

Burke had a suggestion, but he didn't think she'd take kindly to it. However, the thought of her wearing nothing but a smile put a smile on his face.

"What are you thinking about?" Ally demanded.

"Nothing." He cleared his throat and wiped the smile away. "I can find something for you for tonight, but you'll just have to wear what you've got on to go shopping in the morning."

"If you'd just let me fly home, I could pack and be back in a couple of days."

"Somehow, I don't trust you to do that so let's not discuss it again."

"What do you plan to do, spend every minute with me to ensure that I don't skip town?" Ally grumbled.

"If necessary." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Actually, that wouldn't be much of a hardship. He could think of some fun ways to pass the hours.

Ally sighed. "All kidding aside, I really do need to go back to Dallas fairly soon. I've got an office, a job, and clients that I am responsible too."

He frowned. "I didn't think of that. Will your boss fire you if you take off?"

Ally couldn't resist the opportunity he offered her. "Actually, I'm the boss."

"What do you mean?"

"It's my company. I own a small accounting firm."

"A number cruncher, huh? I must say I'm surprised."

"I've worked hard to get ahead, and I'm good at what I do. I love my work. And my clients love me."

"So if you're the boss then it shouldn't be a problem to take off," he said as if that closed the subject.

Ally realized she shouldn't have been so eager to impress him with her accomplishments. "Right," she admitted reluctantly. "I can have my assistant handle things unless an emergency arises."

He looked at her appraisingly. "Good. I never suspected you had a head for business. You always hated the fact that I was so driven, but I suspect you're a little bit driven too. It's not every woman who owns her own business."

His assessment warmed her. Her attitude softened a little. "I guess I could use a little time off. I worked so hard to get through college and then to prove myself that I've never had a real vacation in years."

The idea of her working that hard made him uncomfortable. "I would have given you the money to go to college," he said impulsively.

"It was better for me to do it myself. I didn't even take help from my parents."

They rode in silence for a while. Ally noticed they had entered a residential area of subtly-lit mansions set on beautifully landscaped lawns.

"Do your parents know you came down here?" Burke asked suddenly.

Ally shook her head vigorously. "No, and if I'm lucky, they won't find out. They still haven't gotten over our sudden marriage."

"And equally sudden divorce?" he asked.

She nodded. "I never could figure out why they didn't put up a bigger fight when you showed up a month after we met with an engagement ring in your pocket."

"Engagement ring?" He laughed. "I don't know if that pinpoint diamond could properly be called an engagement ring. Did you toss that pitiful excuse for a ring into the Trinity River on your way back to Dallas when you left me?"

Ally didn't say anything. She still had that ring and the matching gold wedding band. It still brought a tear to her eye each time she came across them in her jewelry box.

"Is this your neighborhood?" she asked, changing the subject.

Burke turned left into a driveway that curved toward a large contemporary style house made of cedar, stone, and huge expanses of glass. It gave an overall impression of sharp angles thrusting against the night sky. He pressed a button on the visor as he drove to the rear of the house. A double-size garage door opened. He pulled in and parked next to a hulking black Chevy pickup truck.

Ally was awestruck. She'd done very well in her career, but Burke had obviously done far better with his software company. "This house is yours?"

"Be it ever so humble."

"Looks as if that old nose to the grindstone paid off in a big way." She felt disquieted by the signs of wealth everywhere. When she and Burke had married, they'd been on an equal economic footing. Both his and her families were solidly middle-class. She and Burke were young and penniless with him in college and her just out of high school.

At the back door, he punched in a security code on a keypad then made a sweeping bow to her. "Mi casa es su casa."

Ally sighed. "Yeah, I guess your house is my house. But only for a couple of weeks."

Chapter 8

Three days later, Ally decided that if she couldn't get to a supermarket to stock up on some munchies that she would probably die of starvation before the two weeks were up.

She hurried down the wide hallway that led to the master bedroom. The hidden spotlights overhead weren't on so, thankfully, she didn't have to look at his collection of art that lined both walls. She hated the abstracts. They were cold and lifeless, just like everything else in the house.

When she'd commented that she didn't know he liked modern art, he'd said, "I think my taste in art probably runs more to dogs playing poker. This is investment stuff. It's appreciated a hundred and fifty per cent since I bought it."

"At least it's good for something," she muttered as she passed the huge canvasses. Personally, if she were going to invest in art, she'd make sure it was something she liked even if it was a velvet picture of tough-looking canines playing draw poker.

Ally took a deep breath before she knocked on his bedroom door. When he didn't answer, she called, "Burke? Are you awake?" She'd made a point to get up before seven so she could catch him before he had breakfast. When there was no answer, she knocked harder, hoping Deirdre Henry, his housekeeper, didn't hear her.

Deirdre the Drill Sergeant should be preparing Burke's breakfast though so she should be safe. After a minute, Ally eased the door open and peeked in. She could hear him before she saw him. He snored softly. "Burke, are you awake?"

Dumb question. Obviously, he had overslept. She looked down at him. The covers were tangled about his waist. His muscled chest was covered with a fine sprinkle of hair that was sandy-colored. One hairy leg lay exposed. Ally's tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. In the dim morning light, he looked like every woman's dream. Too late, she realized that his snoring had ceased. The blanket moved as if it had a life of its own.

"See something you like?" Burke asked, his voice husky with sleep and something else that she didn't even want to think about.

"Not particularly," Ally lied. "Sorry I had to wake you, but there's something we have to discuss." She made her voice brusque and business-like.

He patted the side of the bed. "Sit down, and tell me what it is."

Ally's heartbeat went crazy. "Oh, no thanks. I'm fine standing. Thanks anyway," she babbled.

"Not afraid, are you?"

"Why on earth would I be afraid?"

He shrugged. The blanket moved, and a small puffed up over the area below his waist. And the covers shifted down a big more. Ally's eyes rounded. She couldn't help but examine the extra inch of skin that the shifted blanket exposed. Her eyes darted to the tented fabric. She swallowed hard. Oh, my goodness. She imagined sliding her hand under the blanket and stroking him. Everywhere.

Abruptly she turned away. "I can catch you later. It's not really that important." She headed for the door.

He uttered one word in a deceptively quiet voice. "Chicken."

That stopped her cold. She turned. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. You don't trust yourself around me." He folded his arms beneath his head and stared into her eyes.

Ally could not stop her eyes from glancing down the length of his body. Oh, no. She had to stop this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, but her voice came out soft and breathless.

Her sexy whisper teased Burke. He'd been dreaming about her and had opened his eyes to see her standing over him. It had taken every ounce of his will not to reach for her. He wanted to pull her down on top of him and grind his erection against her.

"We're both mature and unattached, Ally," he said, his voice soft and cajoling. He reached out to her. Slowly, as if mesmerized, she walked toward him. She placed her hand in his. When he pulled gently, she yielded and stepped closer.

"Mr. Winslow, your breakfast is ready!" A stern voice barked from the intercom on the wall.

Ally jumped as if someone had poked her with a sharp pin. "I'll talk to you over breakfast." She ran from the room.

"Little coward," Burke said to the empty room. He smiled smugly. He'd made progress though.

Ally's heart slammed against her ribs as she hurried away. She took refuge in the bathroom attached to the guest room. Her reflection in the mirror taunted her. She studied her flaming cheeks. "You are an idiot, Ally Fletcher!" Her voice trembled. She closed her eyes, but that only intensified the pictures in her head.

"Oh, Burke," she whispered, unable to suppress the memory of the way he had looked with the tangled covers, revealing much, concealing more that she wanted to see. His eyes had mesmerized her. Did he remember the nights of passion they'd shared? Did they haunt him they way they haunted her? His husky voice teased her and dared her.

"What am I going to do?" she moaned. He had hardly been home the last few days, but instead of that helping, it merely made her hunger for a glimpse of him.

Last night, she'd stayed awake until she'd heard him come in around two this morning. Where had he been? Who had he been with? The questions tortured her. Damn it. He was driving her crazy whether he was at home or away. She had to get away from here for a while. All the more reason to brave his sly glances and confront him at breakfast. At least Deirdre would be there so she wouldn't have to be alone with him.

After a quick pep talk, Ally left the guest room and headed to the kitchen. She no longer paused in awe in the two story great room even if it was big enough to hang glide from the second floor balcony.

Now she only saw the beautiful oak paneling. At least the warmth and richness of the wood made up for the stark white the interior designer had used. She would have been scared to death to drink a cup of coffee while sitting on the huge white sofas. She was even fearful of walking too close to the wall of white draperies at the end of the room for fear she'd stain them.

When she'd arrived that first night, Burke had looked around the room as if seeing it in her eyes. "I guess it's kind of cold, isn't it?" he'd asked.

Ally had hedged, "Well, monochromatic color schemes are all the rage I understand. It's really very sophisticated." She'd hated it, but it was better than the kitchen.

"That's what the decorator told me," he had said, nodding. "She explained that the different textures of tone on tone provided visual interest." He'd wrinkled his nose. "Personally, I thought something in red or yellow would be more interesting, but Tiffany convinced me that the decorator was right."

"Ah. Tiffany." Ally's green-eyed monster had peeked out. "Maybe I could change the throw pillows. Add a few in red or yellow, if you like?"

"Sure. Do whatever you want." He'd said. Then Ally had looked around with interest. She'd lain in bed, day dreaming about what she'd do if the house were hers.

If she lived here, the kitchen would have to go. She was certain most hospitals didn't have this much stainless steel in their operating rooms. Black granite countertops gleamed coldly in the fluorescent light. She was certain they'd be suitable for surgery.

A stove big enough for the pickiest chef occupied the center of one wall. Everything was pristinely clean even though the smell of bacon and eggs and fresh-brewed coffee scented the air.

"Good morning, Mrs. Henry," she said, forcing a note of cheer into her voice.

Ally felt the same way she'd felt when she'd first been introduced to the woman, as insignificant and as pesky as a house fly. She somehow felt that Mrs. Henry would like to swat her away from her stainless steel palace but that would leave a dark stain on the blizzard-white realm. She checked to see if the woman had a fly swatter anywhere near before asking, "May I have a cup of coffee please?"

"Of course," Deirdre said in a voice that held no emotion whatsoever.

"Make that two," Burke said.

Ally jumped. "I didn't hear you come in."

Burke reached for the two cups of coffee Deirdre had poured. "Bring breakfast out to the pool, would you please, Deirdre?"

The pool and flagstone patio were the saving grace of the home. Ally could easily have spent every day sitting under the bougainvillea-covered trellis and gazing at the sparkling blue pool that curved around the back of the house.

Ally had finally got the nerve up to open the draperies each day when Deirdre finished vacuuming that part of the house just so she could see the pool from the great room. The view was simply spectacular. She could get used to seeing that tropical scene every morning.

She sank into her favorite chair facing the water. A miniature waterfall cascaded down from a pile of rocks at the end of the pool and splashed cheerfully into the crystal blue pool.

"You like this, don't you?" Burke asked taking the chair next to hers.

"I can truthfully say that I adore it. It almost makes up for the rest of the house." As soon as the words were out, Ally covered her mouth with her hand. "Oops. Sorry. I didn't mean to insult your home."

"So you don't like it. Why not?"

"I'm not into the blank canvas look," she quipped.

"I told you to change it. I meant that. I want you to be comfortable here. Change anything you don't like."

"What's the point? I won't be here that long. And the next Mrs. Winslow might not like my taste any more than I like the taste of that decorator you hired. Right?"

Burke felt his good mood slip away. "Right," he snapped and turned his attention to the housekeeper.

She pushed a tea cart over to their table and then straightened. Ally thought she looked as if she might execute a military salute.

"Mr. Winslow," Deirdre said. "I need to go over the party preparations with you today."

"I've got a full day scheduled, but I'll call you later."

Deirdre's lips thinned. "Very well." She did a sharp about face and marched back to the kitchen.

Ally grinned. "Are you sure she wasn't in the Army?"

He grinned. "She's a retired school teacher, Ally."

Ally shuddered. "Bet those kids celebrated her retirement."

Burke offered her a basket of assorted breads. "I admit she is a bit anal, but you can't fault her cooking."

Ally selected a raisin scone and reached for the butter. "Too true," she said, biting into the warm bread. She moaned her pleasure.

At the sound, Burke looked up. He'd love to make her moan like that. Deep and low in her throat. He shifted uncomfortably on the chair and adjusted his napkin strategically. Ally had the most unsettling affects on him.

Ally caught him looking at her and blushed. She gulped her coffee, thankful that it had cooled enough not to scald her tongue. Suddenly, the intimacy of the breakfast scene struck her. She and Burke were behaving like a married couple.

The squawk of the garden gate hinges intruded. Ally looked askance at Burke just as Tiffany strode into view. And the morning had been so nice until now, Ally thought snidely.

"Hello, Burke," Tiffany said, pausing to tap on the window and wave at Mrs. Henry.

"How did the meetings go?" Burke asked.

Tiffany acknowledged Ally's presence with a stiff nod. Ally nodded back.

Tiffany seated herself next to Burke and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Mrs. Henry delivered with the speed of a good little soldier. Then she began a detailed report of her Los Angeles meetings. Ally studied the woman as she talked. Tiffany wore a white linen suit. The jacket was shaped to her body, and the skirt barely hit below mid-thigh. The woman obviously thought her legs were an asset that should be showcased. Unfortunately she was right.

Next to the crisp, unwrinkled Tiffany, Ally felt sloppy in her yellow tee shirt, blue jog shorts, and sneakers. Her only consolation was that if Tiffany walked into the house, she'd be nearly invisible in the white on white. That thought brought a grin to Ally's face. When she heard the word party, her ears perked up.

"What's this about a party?" she asked. "Mrs. Henry mentioned it too."

"The party for Sakamoto," Burke said.

"I don't know anything about this," Ally replied, a little uneasy. "When is it to be?"

"Next week when he arrives, of course," Tiffany said, speaking directly to Ally for the first time. "It's business."

"What!" She shook her head in disbelief. "When had you planned to tell me about it?"

"What's the big deal?" Burke asked. "I'm telling you now."

"How many people will be at this party?"

He shrugged. "About a hundred I think."

"A hundred! And you don't know what the big deal is?"

"It's being catered," Tiffany said, but her comment fell on deaf ears. She shrugged.

"You won't have to do anything, Ally," Burke said. "Everything has been planned to the last detail."

"We'll use the usual caterers," Tiffany interjected. "They're very capable."

"I don't believe this," Ally sputtered. To Burke, she said, "How am I supposed to throw a party by next Saturday?"

"I told you, it's being handled. Besides, just think of it as part of the job."

"I'm not getting paid enough to think of it as part of the job."

Tiffany's eyes rounded. "You're paying her for. . . ." Her voice trailed off.

Burke growled, "Well, how about I double what you're getting?" He and Ally locked eyes and neither backed down.

"Oh, just peachy. What's two times zero?" Ally asked.

"Uh, maybe I should leave?" Tiffany said.

"Look, Ally, it's no big deal. A hundred people might sound like a mob, but, believe me, there's no boisterous behavior or excitement, unfortunately. These things are deadly boring."

"Then maybe I'll duck it. I hate boring parties," she said.

"I don't think so. You're the hostess with the mostest. That's why you're here, remember? Knowing you, you'll liven things up."

"You should have just hired someone to pose as your wife," she grumbled.

"That wouldn't work. No backing out now. You're my wife, and you'll darn well act like it too."

Tiffany stood. "When I'm around you two, I feel as if I'm invisible. I'll see you at the office, Burke." She didn't bother saying goodbye to Ally before she stomped away.

"What got into her," Ally asked.

Burke shrugged. "I guess she didn't want breakfast." He looked at his watch. "I've got to fly."

"We haven't finished discussing this."

"Yes, we have. I think there's a guest list on the writing desk in my bedroom. Look it over and we'll talk later." He turned to go. "Oh. I guess you'll need something to wear to the party. I forgot about it when we went shopping." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He tossed a platinum card ontp the table. "Use this. My treat. Maybe shopping will use up some of your nervous energy so you'll be too tired to argue tonight." He grinned. "And take the Jag. The keys are on the desk too."

Ally's mouth dropped open in mock surprise. "You're trusting me with your prized possession? I'm honored."

"Don't be a wise ass." His grin took the sting out of his words. "But, please, do be careful with it."

Chapter 9

Ally changed into tan slacks and a matching sleeveless blouse. She ran a brush through her hair and applied some lipstick before she went to Burke's room. As soon as she stepped through the doorway, she could smell his after shave. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. How intense would the scent be if she pressed her lips to his skin? His presence was so strong in the room, Ally felt her nipples pucker in longing.

She looked at the massive bed that occupied the middle of the immense room. Deirdre had already made the bed and vacuumed in here. Even though the monochromatic-loving decorator had struck here too, Burke's bedroom had more personality to it than the rest of the house. His presence was stamped on the room by the musky scent of his cologne, the paper-strewn mahogany writing desk, and the stack of books, crowned with a graphite-colored ebook reader, on the bed table.

With Burke gone, she tested the bed, flinging herself into the middle of the huge ivory quilted spread. Just lying here and dreaming about Burke made her dizzy with longing. She stretched and then luxuriated in the feel of the quilted silk fabric, turning her face into the covers to enjoy his scent. She couldn't help indulging in thoughts of what might have been if life had worked out differently.

After a few minutes, Ally rose, not wanting to take the chance that the stern housekeeper would find her lounging on the boss's bed. To her consternation, she saw a faint smudge of coral lipstick on the spread. Blood stained her cheeks. Great. Just great. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the bed table and carefully rubbed the tiny patch. After a bit, it just looked like a pink spot. Maybe he wouldn't notice it.

She saw the car keys on the writing desk. Beneath the keys, she noticed a piece of paper covered with his scrawling handwriting. Ally plucked the keys off the paper and read the message written in bold, block letters.

Meet me at the office for lunch at noon if you're not too chicken.

"You insufferable jerk!" She exclaimed. Yet she couldn't help the smile that bubbled up. She turned on her heel and left his room, forgetting in her haste to straighten the rumpled spread.

* * *

Burke sat in his office and stared out the window. He'd got himself in a pickle. All he could think about was Ally. He should be concentrating on the typed reports on his desk, but he'd given up on them an hour ago.

Impatiently, he checked his watch. Another hour until noon. Would Ally show for lunch? A tap on his door brought him out of his reverie. "What's up, Dave?"

"Just thought I'd let you know that I'm bringing Clarissa tonight."

"Great. Did you tell Meg so she could make reservations?" At Dave's nodding assent, Burke asked, "How many does that make?"

"I think Meg said she'd made reservations for seventeen, just in case Ally's grandmother feels like driving up from Galveston."

"Excellent, excellent. I offered to send someone after Mrs. Fletcher, but she would have none of that. Maybe if she comes, Ally won't feel like such an outsider."

Burke stared out the window. He didn't notice the kids playing in the park across the road nor their mothers who watched them. In his mind's eye, he was seeing Ally. At least, he was seeing her the way he wanted her to be tonight when he brought her home from dinner. Relaxed and in a good mood from the camaraderie of his friends, the great food, and the frozen margaritas. Burke grinned.

"Uh, Burke?" Dave asked.

"Oh, sorry, Dave." Burke turned back. "Anything else?"

Dave chuckled. "I guess not. Somehow I have a feeling you won't be worth killing until the next two weeks are past. And I'm not referring to Sakamoto." He lifted a hand to stop Burke's protests. "It's cool, man. I should tell you. Frederick's on his way up."

Burke watched his friend, and the vice president of his company, leave. Unfortunately, Dave was right. He couldn't seem to focus the way he normally did. And he couldn't seem to stop fantasizing about Ally. Having her share his home had backfired on him.

What did he want where Ally was concerned? He'd thought he wanted revenge. Instead of plotting vengeance though, he spent most of his waking hours scheming about how to get her in his bed and his sleeping hours dreaming about the same thing.

When his grandfather poked his head in, Burke waved him in. "You know, Granddad, this is all your fault."

"Uh oh. What have I done now?"

"It's Ally, Granddad." Burke ran his hands through his hair. "She's driving me crazy."

"Well, what's she doing, Burke?"

"Lots of things."

"Like what?"

"Well, she walks around there in little shorts and a tee shirt that barely covers her wasit. She could at least put something over her legs," he blustered. "And then she sticks her hair up where it's half up and half trailing down her back. Makes her look as if she'd been rolling around in bed. And she paints her toe nails a red so blatant that even they look provocative."

"Yeah," Frederick said wryly, "I can see how that would upset a man."

"And, the way she smells."

"Stinks huh?"

"No! If only she did! It's that perfume she wears. I walk in at night and smell her as soon as I step into the living room. It makes me," he broke off. His face flushed. "Never mind."

"Still a sucker for her, huh?" Frederick asked with a broad grin.

"The more I'm around her the more confused I get," Burke said. "I should have bundled her off to Dallas when I had the chance."

"Well, it's not too late. You can get Meg to make a reservation for the next flight."

"No, I can't do that."

"Why not? It's a simple problem that can be solved with a phone call to an airline."

Burke fidgeted. "It's just not that easy."

"Why not?"

"It's just not. Okay? Let's change the subject. "Have you decided to come to dinner with us tonight?"

Frederick could hardly suppress his glee. "I might drop by," he told his grandson. "Got to run now. Just wanted to check out the lay of the land, so to speak. See you later."

Frederick put action to his words and nearly ran from Burke's office. As soon as he was in the hall, he pulled out his cell phone.

"Darlin', it's going great. Things are progressing just the way I figured they would. Like grandfather, like grandson, I guess." He chuckled then asked, "So tell me, have you looked over the calendar and selected a date for us yet?"

Chapter 10

When Ally pulled in to the parking lot in front of Burke's office building, she was a nervous wreck. She saw Frederick sitting in his car and parked in the row behind him. Nervously she tapped the steering wheel while she waited. He was smiling while he talked on his cell phone. How was she going to explain this latest little fiasco? She hoped Frederick could help. Seeing him here must be a sign that her abominable luck was changing for the better. When she saw him tuck his phone away, she left the Jag and went to him.

He glanced up when she tapped on the window. He smiled a welcome and got out of his Cadillac. "Ally, what a pleasant surprise."

"Granddad, you have got to help me."

"Why, what's wrong?"

"I need you to take me to the airport. Please."

Frederick frowned. "What? Why would you want me to do that?" He looked as disturbed by the proposition as Ally felt. "I thought you had promised Burke you'd stay for two weeks."

"I did. But when he sees what happened to his car, he's going to murder me, then he'll be sentenced to prison, and his life will be ruined." Ally tried to laugh at her feeble attempt at humor, but she knew her smile probably looked as weak as she felt.

Frederick laughed. "Gosh, for a minute you scared me. Now what has you so upset?"

"Come with me." Ally took his arm and led him around to the right side of the Jag. She pointed and whispered, "Just look."

"Oh, dear." Frederick walked over and squatted down to look at the crumpled right rear fender.

"It wasn't my fault," Ally said diffidently. "I know Burke is going to hate me for sure now."

"Whoa. Slow down. Stop pushing the panic button and tell me what happened."

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I came out of the mall and saw it immediately. Someone must have backed into the Jag and just left! Drove off without bothering to leave their name or address!"

Frederick shook his head. "Well, those things do happen."

"But why to me? And why to Burke's car?" She wailed, "He's going to kill me."

"No, he's not. Just explain and he'll understand."

"But he loves this blasted car," she said tearfully. "He told me how much it means to him."

Frederick nodded. He wanted to tell her that Burke loved her even more, even if his hard-headed grandson wouldn't admit it even to himself. But he dared not. It was too early. Besides, those words needed to come from Burke.

"You could always, uh, how shall I say this delicately, withhold disclosure until another time," he advised with a grin.

"Oh, no. I couldn't do that. That would be like lying." Ally protested. "And I'm sure he'll notice it."

The decision was taken out of her hands for Burke stepped out of the double glass doors in the main entrance and headed toward them. Ally faced him as if she were facing a firing squad.

"My Jag! What did you do to my Jag?" Instead of a shout, Burke's question was an intense, mournful whisper.

Ally trembled. Then the dam of tears breached the flood gate of her control. "I'm sorry. Oh, Burke, it's horrible I know. I feel terrible about this. I'm so sorry."

Without quite knowing how it happened, Ally found herself in his arms. His hands stroked her hair as he murmured meaningless words to her. The storm of tears passed as quickly as they'd come, but she remained still. His embrace felt wonderful. Elation swept away the last shred of misery, and she simply savored being in his arms. Gee, if she'd known it would feel this great, she'd have crumpled that fender long before now. She sighed and swiped at the tears on her cheeks.

Burke took out his handkerchief and handed it to her. He saw Tiffany exit the building and waved her away, not wanting to be interrupted. She chose not to follow his bidding. Of course, she was still miffed at him even though she was back to a "business first, personal second" attitude.

Tiffany walked over to the Jag and bent down. "Tsk, tsk," she said. Her fingers stroked the new scar on the automobile. Then she looked up. "My, my, I'm always amazed at how some women try to worm their way out of their responsibilities by shedding tears."

Ally's head jerked up. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. I didn't whisper."

"I'm not trying to shirk my responsibility. I'll gladly pay for the damage to Burke's car."

"Are you sure you can afford it?"

Ally saw red. "You're darn right I can! I could even afford to have plastic boobs like yours if I wanted them."

"Uh, we’d better get moving," Burke said, stepping between the two women hurriedly.

"That's okay, Burke. I'm not going to attack your pretend-wife," Tiffany smirked. "I learned a long time ago that the same women who use tears, hurl insults when confronted with a woman who is smarter, better looking, and more physically appealing."

To cap off her little speech, she leaned toward Burke and kissed him on the mouth. "See you later, lover," she said and patted his cheek.

Burke didn't know who was more shocked, Ally or him. But he suspected he was. What had gotten into Tiff? Speechless, he watched Tiffany walk away, obviously working it. She walked and moved in a way he'd never seen before.

Ally seethed. "So you and Tiffany are just business partners? You were going to have a marriage of convenience? Ha!"

She was jealous! Again, he found that her jealousy didn't disturb him as much as it once would have. Was that because he was the insecure one now?

"I guess this means we won't be lunching together?" Burke asked. He grinned like he was supremely happy about something. What, Ally couldn't begin to guess.

Feeling like a fool for reverting to old bad habits, like jealousy, she made a quick escape. Burke didn't stop her from climbing into the Jag and driving away.

She knew she needed help. She'd deluded herself where Burke Winslow was concerned. Teach him how it felt to be jealous? That was a laugh. She was the one who'd been on the receiving end of that lesson today. But it wasn't too late to turn the tables.

She pulled into the local hamburger joint and ordered a vanilla shake at the drive-thru. While she waited in line, she decided to call Preston. He'd help. She'd explain how she had exaggerated their friendship into a romance. He'd play along if only because he had a heightened sense of the ridiculous. She grabbed her cell phone before she lost her nerve.

When he answered, she said, "Preston, I need your help, and you can't say no."

"Well, hello to you too, Ally Cat. I figured you'd be changing your mind about staying in Houston."

Preston’s irrepressible good humor made it easy to explain what she wanted. "You remember a long time ago how you asked me to act as your personal twelve-step program so that if you were going to fall again for a no-good bimbo, I would talk you out of it?"

"Sure. But I’m between engagements you might say."

"I know you don't need me, but I need you to talk me out of something totally insane. Tell me I’m nuts if need be."

"Okay, you’re nuts. Now tell me why you’re nuts."

"Well, it’s Burke."

"Uh oh. I told you not to go down there. You should have telephoned your almost-ex."

Ally grimaced. "Believe me, I wish I had taken your advice. He blackmailed me into staying here, but it's a heck of a lot more difficult than I imagined it would be."

When Preston erupted into loud laughter, Ally held the phone away from her ear. Then she said, "Would you quit laughing. This isn’t funny."

"Oh, yes it is. The mighty Ally has fallen. Funny I didn’t hear anyone yell timber over you."

"Preston, it’s not like that. It’s just . . . .just," her voice trailed off.

"Love?" Preston finished for her.

"No!" Ally drove forward a car length and stopped. "No. It's not love," she said vehemently. "I guess it's just lust."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Don’t mock me. I am twenty-four years old. I can lust if I want to."

That really set him to laughing. "This I’ve got to see."

"Rather than sending you a video, why don't you just come down here and witness it first hand?"

"Yeah. I think I will. I just turned in that piece I was doing for the museum. I think I'll take the next week and a half off and visit you."

"Would you?"

"You mean you really want me to?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Preston, I'll be your devoted friend forever if you'll do that."

"Ally, are you all right?"

"Just a minute. I've got to pay for my milkshake." She drove up, handed the money to the girl, and took the icy-cold shake. Then she pulled around and parked, took a long pull of the cold, sweet goodness and realized she was using food to deal with her emotions.

Damn.

She set the cup in the console and told Preston, "I have got to get a grip."

"Yeah. Hitting the ice cream, and it's not even five o'clock," he joked.

"It's that woman," Ally explained. "That Tiffany that Burke was going to marry. She's making me crazy. Kissed him right in front of me. And he tried to make me believe that she lives and breathes computer print outs, twenty-four-seven. It's not that I'm jealous. Well, actually it is. But I don't have any reason to be. I mean," she ground to a halt. "It's not as if I have any claim on him."

"You're his wife, aren't you?" Preston joked.

"Well, yes, but not really. Oh, this is more complicated than it should be. I just need someone in my corner to kind of serve as a buffer between us. Someone who will remind me of who I am and where I belong. Will you come down here, Preston? Please say you will."

"Sure, Ally Cat, why not? What are best friends for?"

Chapter 11

Ally took special care with her appearance that evening. She decided to leave her long hair loose about her shoulders. She used the curling iron and spent more time than usual styling it. She studied the tousled curls and nodded. That was exactly the effect she wanted so she sprayed it lightly.

She intended to be on time for the dinner party, but she also intended to make Burke wait until the last possible minute to leave. She hoped Preston would show up before then. He'd told her that he'd rent a car at the airport and be at Burke's house in plenty of time to make their restaurant reservation. Actually, Preston should be ringing the doorbell any minute. She hoped he had sufficient nerve to pass himself off as her lover because she was pretty hopeless when she got around Burke.

Again, she checked her appearance in the mirror. The bright red dress swirled sexily above her knees. The shirred and gathered halter top displayed her assets to the best advantage. All in all, it was the kind of dress a woman wore to attract a man. She just hoped it would make Burke aware of her as a desirable woman. Maybe she could convince Preston to nuzzle her neck or gaze soulfully into her eyes. That should put Burke off, and give her some breathing room.

When she couldn't stand the waiting any longer, she grabbed the small red clutch bag and stepped into the red high heel sandals. Her pulse sped up in anticipation as she walked down the stairs. Burke was lounging on the sofa in the great room. She stopped abruptly on the last step.

His eyes swept her from her head to her red shoes. He let out a low whistle. "Wow."

"Is this okay for where we are going?" she asked, knowing it was. All her preparations and primping had been worth it. She basked in the glow of his appreciation.

"I can't think of anything you'd look better in." He could, but he didn't think she'd be receptive to his suggesting she model the sheets on his bed.

"You really meant you were going to make me pay through the nose," Burke said cheerfully.

"I have credit cards," Ally said.

"Well, I hope you didn't use it to purchase that outfit." He liked the idea that he'd bought her clothes. He wondered if she had on red silk lingerie to match the sexy dress. The prospect of that gave him something new to fantasize about.

"If for no other reason, let’s say I owe you," Burke said. "When we were married, I didn’t have enough money to even buy you a dress at a discount store."

"I’m glad you’ve done so well," Ally said, softly, rather shyly. She felt inordinately proud of his success.

"Thanks. I can’t say I did it alone. Tiffany was part of the success as well as Dave and Craig and the others you'll meet tonight."

"Oh, yes, Tiffany," Ally said, feeling a twinge of jealousy at his championing the incomparable Tiffany.

The doorbell chimed. "That's probably for me," she said breathlessly. Suddenly, she wished that she hadn't asked Preston to come. These moments when she and Burke were together and at peace were oddly appealing. "I'm, uh, expecting a friend." Ally had a feeling of foreboding and wished she hadn't set this up.

She hurried to the door. She knew Burke followed. When she threw open the door and saw Preston standing there, she had deep misgivings. He looked as if he'd just stepped off the cover of a men's magazine.

With jet black hair and captivating blue eyes, Preston was by far the most handsome man she'd ever known. But, to her, he paled in comparison to Burke, she decided, seeing the two men together for the first time.

"Hey, Ally Cat," Preston said, giving her his devil-may-care grin. She looked over her shoulder and met Burke's stormy eyes. She'd made a serious error in judgment.

Ally embraced him the same as she would have any friend. "Preston, how nice of you to come."

"Ally! Darling!" Preston pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her. Then his eyes opened. Ally went cross-eyed looking into his blue eyes. He winked. He proceeded to ignore Ally's pleading face.

"What's going on here?" Burke demanded.

Ally looked over her shoulder at him. His face looked like a thunder cloud.

Nervous, Ally took Preston's arm and pulled him into the house. "Oh, Burke, this is Preston Kesey. My friend. From Dallas."

"Hey," Preston said, extending his hand.

Burke eyed his hand as if it held some exotic poison. Then he took it and did his best to mangle it. Unfortunately, Ally's friend was stronger than he looked. The two men grunted and mutually backed off.

"Nice to meet you, Winslow," Preston said, grinning.

Burke grunted. "Yeah. Same here, Pesto."

"Preston," Ally corrected. "I called Preston today to ask him to take care of my apartment. We, uh, got to talking, and one thing led to another, and here he is," she finished with a bright smile.

"Yeah," Preston said. "You know how it is. We just couldn't stand to be away from each other." He brushed a kiss against Ally's cheek, but she jerked, and he ended up with a mouth full of hair.

"Get your hands and your mouth off my wife!" Burke snapped.

Preston grinned lazily. "Hey, be cool, man. She might be your wife, but she's my girl friend."

That pronouncement made matters worse. Oh, why had she thought this was a good idea? Ally jumped into the breach. "Now, Burke, you wouldn't begrudge me a friend of my own would you? After all, you've got Dave, and Craig, and your brother, and Tiffany.

Ah, Tiffany, Burke thought. So that's what this was about. He should have known he would be in store for some payback. What, had she come straight home and called old Piston to come down here? How sly. How conniving. So she wanted to play games, huh? Burke decided he'd be nice if it killed him. It shouldn't be that difficult now that he knew the game that was afoot.

"Forgive me. I didn't realize at first who you were." You're her special friend from Dallas, aren't you?"

"Special?" Preston repeated. His eyes laughed at Ally. He reached out and caught a lock of hair and curled it around his finger. "Yeah, I guess I am. Not too many friends would go to such lengths, would they, Ally Cat?"

Her eyes promised him that she would get him back for this.

"So we're supposed to go to dinner, aren't we?" Preston asked.

Burke was tempted to say the drop-in visitor wasn't invited. "Yes, we are. Did you come in a rental car, Piston?"

"That's Preston," Ally said. Preston just grinned at Burke as if he found something amusing. "Sure did."

Burke scowled. "Well, just leave it out front. We'll take what's left of my Jag. You and Ally can squeeze together up front and catch up on the last few days you've been apart. This should be a great evening!"

Burke was determined to act as if nothing was wrong. On the one hand, he thought Ally's transparent scheme hilarious. On the other though, he didn't appreciate that oaf mauling her in front of him.

Ally had never had a more uncomfortable thirty minutes in her life than the half hour it took to get from Burke's house to the restaurant. She sat crushed between the two large men, scared to death that Preston would say something to give away her ruse. But Preston performed like a trooper. If anything, he had played his role a little too well.

Burke looked as if he had a severe case of indigestion by the time he handed the Jag's keys to the valet at the popular Mexican restaurant. "Don't bother being careful with it," he muttered.

The restaurant looked like Hollywood's version of a 1930's Mexican village. Colored lights outlined the roof. Faded murals and advertisements adorned the artistically patched stucco walls. Cactus and huge pots of begonias and petunias dotted the courtyard.

A mariachi band added to the noisy level, but Ally didn't mind. If it were really noisy, maybe she wouldn't have to make conversation with Preston. She knew her friend was going to tease her mercilessly about this.

Her brow wrinkled as she tried to remember back to the night at the church. Why had she thought it necessary to convince Burke that she had a lover? It was his fault, she decided, because of Tiffany. All she wanted was to get out of this ridiculous situation and go home.

The manager of the restaurant led them to the back where tables had been set up. Ally walked between Burke and Preston, feeling as if she were a prisoner being escorted to her last meal.

Ally looked at the people lining the tables and cried, "Granny! What are you doing here?"

"Your nice young man invited me," the attractive silver-haired woman said. She turned to Frederick Winslow and smiled. "Your grandson is so thoughtful."

"Yep," Frederick agreed. "Like grandfather, like grandson."

"Mrs. Fletcher, it's wonderful to see you again. I'm so glad you could come," Burke said. He held Ally's chair, but Preston had pulled one out also.

Ally looked at the two chairs and thought. It's going to be a long, long evening.

The evening turned out to be one of the most frustrating that Ally had ever spent. On the one hand, she loved being there with people she cared about but hadn’t seen much of in recent years, like her grandmother, Burke’s grandfather, Rod, Dave, and Craig. Even Burke, she thought grudgingly.

On the other hand, by the time she’d finished her meal of fajitas, she was ready to do violence to her husband-in-name-only. He had spent the evening ignoring her and flirting with Tiffany. She’d never seen him behave so . . . so revoltingly romantic.

The first time he’d leaned toward Tiffany and whispered with his mouth a half inch from the woman's ear, Ally had wanted to jerk him away from her. As the evening wore on, she'd had to get used to the intimate laughs Burke and Tiffany had shared. The whispers they'd exchanged. She was sick of watching him murmur sweet nothings in the woman's ear.

Tiffany's laughter grated on her nerves. Each time, she laughed, she covered her mouth, as if to suppress it, then she would smile encouragingly at Burke. She welcomed his attentions. Obviously, they had kissed and made up after the foiled wedding. In fact, Ally guessed she was witnessing their making up. Whoopee, she thought sourly. Lucky me!

It was totally disgusting, she decided, leaning over quickly as if she’d dropped her napkin. Her maneuver successfully eluded Preston’s lips. During the long evening, she’d developed radar where her friend was concerned. It was a toss up as to which man was being the most infuriating. Burke with his open flirtation or Preston who seemed determined to treat Ally to the same romantic attention that Burke was bestowing on Tiffany.

To think, she had worried about being able to persuade Preston to act loverly. Heck, if he acted any more loverly, she’d have him arrested.

Just then Preston’s head popped down next to hers. "We’ve got to stop meeting like this," he said, grinning like an idiot.

"I thought I dropped my napkin," Ally said.

"Guess not, huh?"

Ally started to raise up but Preston stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Say, Ally Cat, what’s the story on Tiffany?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is she truly spoken for?"

"Draw your own conclusion. My husband can’t seem to keep his hands off her."

Preston grinned. "Yeah. I noticed. Good."

"Good? I’d say it’s disgusting and revolting."

Ally heard a chair scrape on the ceramic tile and then Burke’s head joined hers and Preston’s near the floor.

"What’s going on here?" Burke asked.

"Ally Cat just wanted a private word with me, Bark," Preston said.

"The name is Burke, Percy."

"Oh, right, right. Well, if you two will excuse me, all the blood’s rushing to my head. I think I’ll just walk around and get acquainted with the other guests." Preston raised up and scooted his chair back.

"Ally Cat, huh?" Burke huffed. "And just how did you get that nickname?"

"Use your imagination," Ally said nastily. She sat back up and drew a deep breath. She saw that Preston had walked over to chat with Rod.

Burke raised up and turned back to Tiffany. Ally tried not to watch, but this time, he didn’t touch her or talk to her. Instead, he talked across her to his grandfather.

Ally tried to ignore him. She chatted with her grandmother across the table. Granny Edith seemed to be having a great time. She’d laughed and talked with Frederick much of the evening. Maybe the two of them did have a lot in common.

Ally heard Burke make a comment about the upcoming vacation that Frederick had scheduled.

"Oh, Granddad," Ally said, "You’re going on a cruise too?"

At his nod, she said, "So is my grandmother. She went on one last year and had a ball."

"Granddad went on one last year too," Burke said. "Where did you go, Mrs. Fletcher?"

Edith Fletcher waved her hand. "Oh, just one of those package deals. I forget the places we stopped."

"But I thought you said you had so much fun you were booking the same one this year?" Ally asked. Then, to her amazement, Granny blushed. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her grandmother blush before. To her further surprise, the woman said, "Oh, dear me, it’s way past my bedtime. I think I need to be going." She thanked Burke, said her goodbyes, stood up, and left. Just like that. Ally looked at her watch. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock. She’d never known Granny Edith to go to bed before one in the morning. It was a standing joke. She was the night owl of the family.

After a few minutes, Frederick stood. "I think I’ll follow suit. This party is for you young people. An old codger like me needs to be in bed to get my beauty sleep."

Burke watched him leave. "I’m worried about him, Rod," he said across the table.

"Do you think he feels all right?" Ally asked, concerned also.

"I think he feels too good," Rod said, chuckling.

"What do you mean?" Burke asked.

"I mean, he’s in love," Rod said with a satisfied grin.

"No!" Burke scoffed. "What ever gave you that idea?"

"Because I walked into the kitchen yesterday and overheard him on the phone. He was making a late date for tonight. He may be headed to bed, but not necessarily his own. If you get my drift."

"Well, I’ll be damned." Burke whistled low. "That sly old dog." He looked up at Rod. "Do you know who she is?"

"Nope. And he’s not telling. He told me to mind my p’s and q’s and keep my mouth shut."

Ally wished her grandmother could find someone like Frederick. Granny Edith had been alone since Ally was a child. She started to voice that comment, but her attention was distracted by Preston who had made his way around the table and now settled into the chair next to Tiffany. Her mouth snapped closed.

What was it about that woman that drew every man? Sure she was beautiful and built, but, Ally thought resentfully, did Preston have to fall for her also?

Everyone seemed paired off in close conversations. Only she and Burke were at loose ends. Looking around, she decided that she liked this disparate group that composed the executive corps of Burke's company. It was an interesting mix of men and women of all ages. Some younger than Burke, some older. They appeared to be the brightest in terms of computer application and design, from what she’d heard discussed at the table.

To a person, they’d accepted her at face value as if there were nothing out of the ordinary about a wife who popped up after a six-year absence.

Judging by the wide grins, she figured the story of her appearance at Burke’s wedding had made the rounds. She was fortunate they bore no animosity the way Tiffany did.

* * *

"Hi, I'm Preston Kesey. So tell me, Tiffany, how did you get mixed up with this bunch?"

Tiffany stared into the man's sapphire blue eyes and couldn't look away. Her brain seemed to shut down because she found herself unable to form a coherent thought. From the moment he'd walked in, she'd been mesmerized by him. He was quite possibly the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Her brain might have shut down, but her heart was pounding so hard that she feared she’d have a heart attack if it didn’t slow.

Never comfortable with small talk, she usually discussed business. Either her own or the business world in general. "What do you think about the falling interest rates in the bond market?" she asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

Preston hadn’t blinked as he looked into her eyes, as green as oak leaves on a spring morning. To him, she was perfect in every way. He'd like to paint her. In the nude. Something about her had him acting bolder than he ever had with a woman he'd just met. He reached out and touched her hand. Sliding his fingers up the soft skin, he encircled her wrist. He felt the wild pulse pounding there. It told him all he needed to know.

"I think you and I have a lot in common," he said, feeling his own response to her nearness.

Tiffany studied his mouth and wondered how it would feel next to hers. She’d never had a thought like that before in all her twenty-six years. Even today when she'd kissed Burke, she hadn't felt anything. She'd only done it to piss off Ally, and to give Burke a hard time.

"I have an MBA in Finance," she whispered. "And I’m the co-owner of this company," she said, breathlessly.

Preston’s eyes dropped to her lips. He caressed them with his eyes, imagined wetting them with his tongue before sliding it into the warm, darkness of her delectable mouth.

"I have a degree in Fine Art." He lifted her hand to his lips and burned a kiss onto the palm. Her hand shook.

Tiffany felt heat streak through her.

"I paint brilliant masterpieces that seldom sell," Preston whispered.

Tiffany moved closer to him and wished she could get as close as possible with nothing, not even clothes, between them. "You’re right," she murmured, "we do have a lot in common."

* * *

The waitress appeared just then to take drink refill orders.

"Hang the instant fat," Ally told her. "I’ll have another frozen margarita. No salt."

"What do you mean, instant fat?" Burke asked as soon as the waitress moved on.

Ally was a little embarrassed that he had heard. She shrugged. "I usually limit myself to one drink. Alcohol is in that category of instant fat that I can generally do without."

"Since when do you worry about calories? You’ve never had a weight problem."

Ally laughed. "That shows how little you know about me."

He turned his chair and gave her his full attention. "So tell me something I don’t know," he challenged.

"All right. I will. Until my senior year in high school, I was fat."

"Get out of town!" Burke’s expression said as clearly as his words that he didn’t believe her.

"It’s true," Ally insisted.

The waitress set their drinks in front of them. Each picked up the iced mug. Burke lifted his in salute. "To a successful conclusion to this deal," he toasted.

Ally clicked her mug next to his. Her idea of a successful conclusion was undergoing a radical change. But that was her own fault for seeking him out. She sucked on the straw, drawing the delicious frozen concoction into her mouth. "This is wonderful. I love that slightly salty lime taste." She picked up the wedge of lime from the mug and bit into it. Then she licked the drops of lime juice from her lips.

Burke thought he wouldn't be able to control himself. He wanted to taste that lime wedge too. From her tongue. "So tell me, if you were fat, how come you were thin as a rail when we met?" he managed to ask.

"Before my senior year, I decided that I was tired of being Missy’s four-eyed, chubby little sister. Missy was always so gorgeous and so smart. I wasn’t anything like that."

"I never got a chance to meet your sister, but I find it difficult to believe you didn’t outshine her."

His praise warmed her. Or was it the effects of the alcohol? "Missy never comes home much. She's been in Paris going on eight years now."

"She couldn't possibly hold a candle to you."

"I swear it’s true. I went on a diet before school began and started jogging. I hated running though. So I decided to just cut calories until I lost the weight. By graduation I had done it, mostly by will power and starvation."

"Isn’t that bad for the body?" He frowned.

"It is. You lose weight, but then you tend to regain it immediately. In my case, I was so paranoid about staying thin, that I did stupid things to keep the weight off. Believe me, you don’t want to know."

"But you’re still not doing that, are you?" He seemed worried.

"No. Fortunately, after we split up, I came to my senses. It took a long time, but I learned to eat healthy foods and most importantly, I learned to love exercise." She looked down, embarrassed.

"Funny. When I quit starving myself and started living a healthy lifestyle, I stopped seeing myself as a fat girl. Before that, every time I looked in the mirror, that chubby girl looked back at me." She wanted to tell him that had been the source of all her insecurities, but, she figured if he couldn't connect the dots, she wasn't going to bare her naked soul to him.

"I just can’t picture you that way. When I saw you on the beach that day we met you just took my breath away."

Ally wanted to tell him that was how she had felt too.

"I guess you’re one of those diet success stories. You never gained the weight back?"

"I tried when we first divorced," Ally confessed.

"How?"

"I pigged out or tried to, but I had lost my fondness for binging. Now when I'm eating my emotions, I recognize what I'm doing. I've gained a few pounds over the years, but I think that’s because I have more muscle now."

"And it looks great on you," Burke said, warmly.

Ally was nonplused by his compliment. "Thank you," she said. Ally could have kissed him for his compliment. It meant more to her than it should.

Burke leaned toward her. He reached out and laid the palm of his hand on her cheek. "Beautiful Ally," he said.

"Hey, Burke-man, get your hands off my woman," Preston said from behind them.

Ally jumped. Burke stiffened. "Who says she’s your woman?"

"Why she does! That’s why she called and asked me down here. She was lonesome for me." He winked. "Know what I mean?"

Ally wanted to strangle Preston. The man’s timing was abominable. She was going to have to talk to him about his lover act of his.

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Burke said. He'd like to strangle the man. He told himself he didn't care, but his heart was heavy. He couldn't stay here and watch Ally and her boyfriend. He stood and dug in his pants pocket for his keys. He tossed them down in front of Ally.

"Why don’t you take the Jag home so Pierce can pick up his car. I’ll get Tiffany to drop me off after. . . ." His voice trailed off suggestively.

Ally turned to Preston with a smile so brilliant it hurt her face. "Great idea. Let’s go now, Preston, so we'll have the rest of the evening together."

"Whatever you say, Ally Cat."

Burke ground his teeth together. He hated that man calling his wife that revolting nickname. "Fine," Burke said. He walked over and pulled Tiffany’s chair out.

"What?" Tiffany sputtered, spilling the drink she’d been sipping when Burke had suddenly jerked her chair backwards.

* * *

Frederick's lover welcomed him when he arrived. He took the glass of red wine she offered, leaned back on her couch, and sighed.

"Tired, Freddy?" she asked softly.

He lifted her hand. "It is a bit of a drive down here."

"But I'm worth it. Right?" she teased.

"Absolutely." He sipped the wine. His eyes never left her dark ones. "So how do you think it's going?"

Her brow wrinkled. "I don't know, Freddy. I'm beginning to wonder if this was a good idea."

"Don't wonder. This was the best idea I ever had. Those two belong together. I know my grandson. I know what he went through after they split up. He needs her. This will work."

She laughed. "If you say so."

"Well, that and some good sex will do the trick." He grinned, his eyes brightening. He stroked her hair. "Speaking of that," he lifted his brows questioningly.

"I thought you were tired." Her smile widened.

"Darlin', I'm never too tired for that."

"Men!" She said in mock disgust then threw her arms around him.

* * *

Tiffany was silent as she drove Burke home, and she wished Burke would follow suit. He was more like a sputtering, seething volcano.

"I cannot believe the nerve of that teenage Romeo," Burke seethed, fiddling with the radio dial.

"Who are you talking about?" Tiffany asked, braking for the turn into Burke’s subdivision.

"Ally's boyfriend, that's who!" Burke snapped the radio off.

"He's not a teenager."

"She’s old enough to be his. . . his older sister."

"And I'm a couple of years older than Ally," Tiffany said with a doleful sigh.

"What’s that got to do with anything?" Burke asked. Without waiting for an answer, he ranted, "The way they were whispering and nuzzling each other at the table turned my stomach. Can’t they wait until they get behind closed doors to carry on like that?"

"Did I misunderstand?" Tiffany asked softly. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "I thought he felt the same thing I was feeling."

"What does she see in that kid?" Burke asked, ignoring what Tiffany said.

"Maybe if your wife hadn’t encouraged him, then he wouldn’t have behaved so outrageously. A woman sets the tone of a relationship. I’d say your wife plays fast and loose."

"Tiffany, did I ever tell you that you talk to much?"

* * *

"Did you see the way Tiffany acted?" Ally demanded, grinding the gears of the Jag as she shifted into high.

Preston winced. "Those things aren’t made of rubber, Ally. Take it easy on the poor car."

Ally withered him with a glance. "And you! How do you explain yourself, mister?"

"What do you mean?" Preston asked. "I was just playing up to you to make your old man jealous. That is what you really wanted me here for, isn’t it?"

"I don’t mean that charade. I mean you fawning all over Tiffany. Isn’t it enough that she has Burke wound around her little finger without my best friend falling for her too?"

Preston laughed. "Let’s put a little perspective to this picture. What has you most upset? My flirting with Tiffany or Burke flirting with her all night?"

"To think he tried to convince me that his wedding to her was a marriage of convenience." She downshifted, and the transmission groaned in protest.

"I don’t know who I feel sorrier for," Preston said. "You or this poor car."

Chapter 12

Ally watched Preston drive away in the convertible Mustang. At least he'd had the good fortune to get a decent car at the rental agency. Maybe if she'd been equally lucky, she'd have been able to get back to the airport and wouldn't be in this predicament now. She turned to go, but paused when headlights swung into the driveway.

Oh, no. Burke. And Tiffany. She hoped they hadn't seen her. She dashed inside, not wanting to witness their goodnight kiss. Or something even worse.

Maybe if she stayed in her room and didn't see Burke again until the night of Sakamoto's party, she'd be able to keep her dignity intact and defeat the green-eyed monster who sought possession of her. It was as if the past six years had ceased to exist. Just being around him had re-awakened all her feelings for him. The good ones and the bad ones. At least she recognized her unreasonable emotions now.

The only thing that had saved her so far was that Burke hadn't tried to seduce her. Except for this morning when she'd surprised him by the bed, he'd seemed completely immune to whatever had once drawn them together. She, on the other hand, was like one giant, throbbing, lust bomb. Why hadn't once tried anything with her? Was she that undesirable?

"Face it, Ally Fletcher," she muttered as she climbed the stairs to her room. "You're miserable around him and miserable away from him. In short, you're just a mess."

Exhausted, Ally decided on a shower and bed. That was better than listening for the murmur of voices from downstairs. She didn't want to know what was going on in the great room, or worse yet, in Burke's gigantic master suite.

Unfortunately, two hours later, Ally still found herself tossing and turning. The warm shower hadn't helped. Counting sheep wasn't effective. They all turned into randy goats! Maybe a glass of milk would do the trick. She tossed the covers back.

* * *

Burke lifted the jug of milk from the refrigerator just as the kitchen light flickered on.

"Oh, I didn't know you were up," Ally said, tightening the belt of her crinkle-cotton robe. Her pulse leaped at the sight of Burke, clad only in a pair of jeans that rode low on his lean hips. His feet were bare. So was his chest. His chest was, she closed her eyes a moment. Delectable. Her eyes opened and feasted on the expanse of tanned skin. When she became aware that he was taking note of her gaze, she quickly looked away.

"I was thirsty," he said. "Thought I'd get some milk. Want some?"

Ally swallowed. She certainly did want some. But not milk. Milk? What if he kissed her? She'd have milk breath. "Maybe some water."

Burke returned the milk to the fridge. Ally felt a blush creeping up her face and hoped he didn't notice. They both turned and reached for the cupboard door at the same time. His arm brushed across her breasts.

Ally jumped back.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No problem." She fumbled with her belt, untied it then retied it, pulling the sash so tight it hurt. Darn her blasted hormones!

Burke filled two glasses with water from the fridge and handed her one along with a paper napkin.

"Thanks." She should go back to her room, she knew. Instead, she pulled out a chair at the breakfast table and sat down, ignoring her own common sense.

Burke noticed her hands were shaking. He joined her at the table, wiping his suddenly clammy hands on his jeans. He was afraid to open his mouth for fear he'd ask her to join him in bed. The silence was so deep he figured she could hear him swallow as he gulped his water.

Ally watched Burke's throat as he swallowed. Her eyes slid down his throat to his shoulders. She loved his shoulders. Looking at him made her tingle in parts of her body that hadn't tingled in an awfully long time.

She turned her glass of water around and around. She wasn't thirsty any more. At least not for water. She was parched for the feel of his mouth on hers, for his hands on her body, for the sensation of his skin beneath her hands.

"Whew!" Ally picked up the napkin and blotted her forehead. "It's warm in here."

"Now that you mention it, you're right." Burke grabbed his napkin and blotted his own forehead. "Why don't we step out onto the patio? It's always cool at night out by the pool."

"Sounds good," Ally said.

Burke led her through the great room, his brain spinning fast and furious as he schemed. When they got to the hall way that led to his bedroom, Ally halted.

"Can't we go out through the French doors in the great room?"

"I've got the alarm set for those, but it's bypassed for the ones in my bedroom," he explained.

"Oh. Okay."

She bought it. Relieved, he flipped on the lights in the hallway. He knew he couldn't impress her with his etchings, he mused. She hadn't liked the artwork a bit. Maybe his body would do the trick.

They entered his bedroom. After one quick glance at the king-sized bed with its rumpled covers, Ally averted her eyes. She was having enough trouble with her wayward thoughts without that stimulus. She needed to fight this attraction. But she was so weak. And he was so magnetic.

"Hey, want to go swimming?" Burke asked.

"I don't have a suit."

"So?" He arched one brow, giving him a decidedly rakish expression.

Ally inhaled quickly. "I think I should go back to my own bed."

"Why? What's the matter? Are you afraid you can't control your impulses?"

Ally stiffened. "I don't have any trouble controlling mine," she lied. "I just don't want you thinking that we're going to engage in any hanky-panky."

"Hanky panky?" He hooted. "That sounds like a phrase our grandparents would use."

He didn't fool Ally. She suddenly sensed the real reason he had lured her to his room. And it wasn't to exit from the French doors in here. She shook all over. With indignation, she told herself. Not with longing. She couldn't give that power to him.

"Burke Winslow, I have a flash for you. I am not sleeping with you."

Burke felt his control slip a notch. She didn't seem to have a problem being overly-friendly with Pearsall. "Well, I have a flash for you, Ally Cat. I didn't ask you to."

"Good. Because I'm not." Somehow, she didn't feel as triumphant as she should. His flat refusal bothered her. "But in case I was interested, which I'm not, why do you say no?" She walked over to the wall and flipped one of the switches. Lights came on beyond the pool, highlighting the towering trees in back.

Burke walked over to where she stood and flipped another switch. Suddenly lights inside the pool glowed, turning it into a sparkling jewel.

"Beautiful," Ally said.

"As I recall," Burke said, "when we were married, we didn't exactly burn up the sheets so what makes you think I want to revisit that particular stretch of memory lane?" There was more than one way to skin a cat, as Granddad said, Burke decided, slyly.

His words troubled Ally. She flipped another switch. Soft music poured from hidden speakers. Soft, haunting, music swirled through the room. Great. This was just what she needed, she thought, a soundtrack for seduction. Suddenly, she realized how precarious her emotions were. She started to flip that switch off, but Burke's hand covered hers.

"Leave it," he said softly.

Ally's heart pounded so hard, she was certain he could hear it. Her breathing became ragged. She felt the heat rising from his body.

"Funny," she said, unable to resist his challenge. She dashed foolhardily into trouble. "I remember our time in bed differently. You couldn't keep your hands off me."

Burke reached out and touched the curve of her cheek with his index finger. He stroked down the smooth skin. "Poor Ally. You must have amnesia. You and I just didn't click when it came to sex." His finger continued down her throat and stopped at the barrier of her robe

Ally imitated his gesture except she didn't stop the movement of her finger at his throat. Her finger slid slowly down his chest, every nerve cell in the tip of it screaming in desire as she traced a line from his cheek to his chest, over a hard nub of a nipple and down, dipping in his navel, and sliding to a stop at the low-slung waist of his jeans.

She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't stop herself. "Perhaps you're the one with the selective memory."

Burke groaned and gasped, "In your dreams, sweetheart." He sucked in his breath, his jeans loosened and Ally's finger slid obligingly into the slight space, slid another inch and stopped when her fingertip met his hot, damp erection.

He wasn't wearing any underwear. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and the pulse pounded low in her belly. She spoke with great effort. The words came out low, husky with want. "Not my dreams, babe," she teased.

She could hardly stand, her knees trembled so. Her body felt as if she were going up in flames. She trembled and couldn't stop if her life depended on it. "I don't lose any sleep dreaming about you and me in bed," she whispered.

"Your bed or mine?" Burke gasped.

"Yours. It's closer." She untied her robe and flung it aside.

"Oh, Ally!" Burke gathered her into his arms and kissed her like she'd never been kissed before. He lifted her and carried her over to the huge bed, laying her carefully in the center as if she were a porcelain doll who would break.

Then his control shattered. Ally felt as if she were caught in a whirlwind. Her gown vanished as quickly as his jeans, and then, finally, she had what she wanted. His weight crushing her into the mattress. His skin next to hers.

His touch was all that she remembered. All that she'd missed so many lonely nights. His kisses took her breath away. Her hands were as frantic as his. The only thing she could think of was having him inside her.

Ally rolled over and assumed the superior position. She wasn't shy about telling him what she wanted. Demanding what she wanted. Pressing her hot, wet sex against his hard-on. Telling him where she wanted to be touched.

"Your wish is my command," Burke whispered, delighting in how self-assured she was. Though he had lied when he'd said they hadn't had great sex when they'd been married, it had never been like this. So hot. Explosive. Suddenly, he realized that Ally had never wanted the lights on. She'd always been hesitant except in the darkness.

With the outside lights illuminating the bedroom, it was like having the lights on. "Do you want the lights off?" he whispered.

"No," Ally gasped. "I like seeing you."

"And I like seeing you too." His hands cupped her breasts and teased her hardened nipples. "You're beautiful," he whispered, knowing now that she'd been insecure about her body then. Now she was an equal partner. He wanted only to be inside her yet at the same time, he wanted to cherish her, wrap her in his arms and apologize for being so ignorant before. But he couldn't go slow any more than she could. They were frantic with each other.

Ally raised up on her knees and guided him into her. She gasped and paused. Burke groaned and gripped her hips. He pulled her down to him and kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Then he moved, reversing their positions until she was on the bottom. He came more fully into her.

Her fists pounded his back. His wife had become one formidable woman in bed. She lifted her hips, and he moved. He kissed her, loving the feel of her, the smell of her. Each stroke grew faster. She urged him on, meeting every thrust, every kiss. Her sweat-damp body slid against his.

Heart hammering, Burke gave her what her body begged for until she cried out. Then he found his own release. Gasping for breath, he collapsed on top of her, too sated to do much but try to recover. What had made Ally so aggressive in bed? He frowned. He didn't like the name that popped into his head.

"Hey, stop that." Ally kissed his frown away. She smiled dreamily. Burke kissed the damp tendrils of hair away from her face. "I don't remember from our time as man and wife that you were so. . . assertive." When she turned to avoid looking at him, he grasped her chin and made her face him.

"I. . . I don't know what came over me. I was just desperate to have you," she whispered, embarrassed by how she'd lost control.

"I liked it," Burke said, kissing her slowly.

Ally couldn't even make the excuse that she hadn't known what he was doing in luring her to his bedroom. She'd known. She'd made it beyond easy for him. Why had she fallen into his clutches? Fallen? The small voice of her conscience whispered. She hadn't fallen. She'd flung herself headlong. And rejoiced in every moment. She'd needed him like she needed air to breathe.

What about Tiffany? Her conscience whispered. Ally moved restlessly. He's my husband, she answered back. Not hers. If I have my way, he'll stay my husband too. The thought exhilarated her as much as it frightened her. Could she win Burke back?

Ally felt his hands stroking up her sides and around to her back. She should leave. She really should. But she didn't want to. She wanted to stay with him. Woo him. Win him.

His hands stole away what little will she had left. This time he set the pace, and it was as leisurely as the previous time had been urgent. Ally thought she'd go stark raving mad. He sucked her nipples until she was ready to come just from that. But he didn't give her what she wanted. Not until he'd pleasured her with his mouth, and his hands. Only then did he enter her. She groaned as he pushed inside her this last time.

Both of them were exhausted, but neither could stop. His eyes gazed into hers as he delivered each measured stroke. Each time she was close, he would stop, soothing her, quieting her. Then he'd build the unbearable tension again. By the time he let her come, her legs were wrapped around his waist, and she was demanding release. Ally loved every agonizing minute of it and rejoiced when he couldn't resist any longer.

Exhausted, Burke collapsed and rolled to her side. He pulled her against him and mumbled, "Bet Percy can't top that."

After a few minutes, his words soaked into her besotted brain. Ally's eyes flew open. Burke snored gently next to her.

Oh! How could he? What was she? Some consolation prize? Ally freed herself from his arms. Quickly she found her gown and robe and ran to the guest room. Had Burke made love to her just to get back at her for Preston?

Chapter 13

Ally slept little that night. Instead, she played the scene over and over in her mind. Maybe she had misjudged Burke. Maybe she should give him a chance to apologize or explain.

Exhausted, she fell asleep shortly before dawn. By the time she crawled out of bed the next morning, the sun had reached its zenith.

The reflection in the bathroom mirror made her groan. She took care to hide the dark circles under her eyes and make herself presentable. When she finally gathered the courage to go downstairs and confront the stern, disapproving housekeeper, the woman told her that Burke wouldn't be home for dinner that evening.

Hurt, Ally still hung around the house, thinking he might call. The hours crawled by at a snail's pace. She camped on the huge sectional sofa in the great room and dolefully channel surfed, not paying attention to any of the banal television programs.

By midnight, she was in a black mood. He'd had his chance. He'd chosen not to use it.

Her hurt grew during the following days.

Ally avoided Burke as much as possible for the next week. Since Burke had never asked for his keys back, and she hadn't offered them, she felt free to use his Jag. She took the car out each day, finding pleasure in driving the magnificent machine.

Dolefully, she regarded the fact that he hadn't sought her out at all after a night of passion that had rocked her world. Also, she chafed at the fact that he had made no effort to apologize for his thoughtless remark that smacked of her being a prize in a competition with Preston. As the days passed, she tried to convince herself that she didn't care, but she did. She cared so much that she thought her heart would break each time she thought of him.

She'd been right. A marriage in name only between the two of them couldn't work any more than a marriage in real life had worked. Somehow that affirmation did little to comfort her when she lay in bed alone each night.

This was so much worse than before. She spent her days trying to figure out why that was. Finally, she came to the conclusion that it was worse because she was mature enough now to know what real love felt like. And to know she suffered from an acute case of it with the one man she probably couldn't have.

Ally just couldn't continue playing these silly games with him. He didn't seem a bit jealous of poor Preston. She'd planned to tell Preston that he could leave, but he too suddenly seemed to be avoiding her. That was too bad. He could have cheered her up, she thought.

The day before the big party for Sakamoto, she drove down to Galveston to visit her grandmother. By now, she could shift the Jag with ease. She stomped the accelerator wishing it were Burke's foot. Maybe a sharp pain there would wake him up and make him come to his senses. And come to her.

She sped over the causeway that separated Galveston Island from the Texas mainland. The hot sunny day brought back memories of her trip to Galveston the summer after she'd graduated from high school when she’d met Burke. Growing up in Dallas, she'd spent most of her summers with her Dad's mother in Galveston. When her parents had gone to the Middle East due to her dad's job, she'd stayed with Granny Edith that fateful summer she had fallen in love with Burke. Since her quickie marriage and divorce, she hadn't returned to the island. Granny had started visiting her in Dallas.

Slowing, Ally negotiated the traffic on the main thoroughfare that led into the city. Her mind was so full of memories and regrets that she couldn’t appreciate the lush red oleanders blooming everywhere. Even though the island had lost hundreds of trees during Hurricane Katrina, it still looked like a garden paradise she briefly noted.

She turned onto the street that led to what was known as the Silk Stocking District, several square blocks filled with old mansions and Victorian-style homes, some of which had survived the killer hurricane of 1900 and the more recent storm threats too.

Ally made another turn and pulled into a narrow driveway bordered by old-fashioned yellow day lilies in full bloom. Emotion clogged her throat as she saw the creamy white clapboard house with its gingerbread painted a deep green. She'd always loved Granny Edith's island home.

As she got out of the car, her grandmother opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. Ally took one look at her and crumpled. "Oh, Granny," she cried, dashing up the steps and throwing herself into her grandmother’s arms.

"Why, child, what’s wrong?" Her grandmother patted her back just as she had when Ally had been little and had turned to her for comfort.

"Everything." Ally snuffled loudly. "I can’t think of a thing that’s right."

"Oh, dear." Edith Fletcher said. "Let’s sit here on the porch, and you can tell me all about it. I made a nice banana bread this morning when you called. I’ll get us some of that and some good Earl Gray. A nice cup of tea always helps put things in perspective."

She steered Ally over to the wicker rocker and gently pushed her into it. Then she tipped the chair back and set it rocking. "I find gentle rocking and good tea will cure most of life's ills." She tipped Ally's chin up and smiled at her.

Ally returned her smile. "I hope you’re right."

While Granny puttered in the kitchen, Ally closed her eyes and used her feet to keep the chair rocking. The motion did soothe her. The balmy day relaxed her tense muscles. She could smell old-fashioned scented petunias and the oleander that grew between the yards on this block.

After a while, Edith came back with a tray. "Here we go." She set the tray on the small wicker table in front of a settee and proceeded to pour two cups of fragrant tea.

"I’m not really hungry," Ally said.

Edith chuckled. "I guess you have grown up, Ally. I remember when you were little, the first thing you wanted to do when you got hurt was eat."

Ally grimaced. "Luckily, I outgrew that habit, or I would be as big as the side of a barn."

"I always told you maturity and hormones would take care of your baby fat."

At that Ally had to laugh. "That and eating a healthy diet, not to mention learning to like sweating."

"I’m sure that helped a little."

Ally took the small plate of banana bread. "This really is good, Granny," she said after taking a small bite. Then she set it aside.

"Okay, now tell me. What’s your problem? Is it that husband of yours?"

"He’s not my husband!"

"I have evidence to the contrary," Edith said. "Just a minute." She went into the house but soon returned with a sheaf of papers boasting a blue cover. "Here’s what started this whole thing." Edith handed them to her. "Now, Ally, don’t be bitter."

"It’s weird how these turned up on the same day that Burke was getting married," Allie mused.

"Oh!" Edith choked and coughed.

"Are you all right?"

Edith nodded, her face very red. "Yes, just went down the wrong way I guess." Quickly, she changed the subject. "What are you wearing to the big party tomorrow night?"

Ally shrugged. "I don’t know. I had this knock out dress, but I don’t see much point in wearing it now. No one cares what I look like."

"No one? What about Burke? Doesn’t he care?"

"I doubt it. He only cares about making that deal." She looked away, blinking back the tears. "And about being the big dog on the porch," she muttered.

"What was that dear about dogs?" Edith asked, confused.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just rambling."

"I think you might be wrong about Burke not caring," Edith said shrewdly. "Maybe the problem is that you can't see his side of this."

Ally bit her lower lip. "You’re wrong. I do see his side. I guess the biggest problem is that I want to be the number one priority in his life. I care too much. He just doesn't have room in his life for anything other than that blasted company of his. He’s just using me to get that business deal through. Well, I won’t be used, Granny."

"I’m sure that's not true. Burke cares for you, Ally. I think these two weeks have been a rare opportunity for each of you to see what you lost when you walked out. And you were the one to walk out on him, child."

Ally nodded miserably. "I know. I know. You don’t know how many times I’ve regretted that night. I thought if I could just do it over that I’d get it right. But I’ve had my chance, and I think I blew it. Maybe we're both still too immature." She laughed bitterly. "Maybe we should just try again in another six years."

"Somehow I don't think a man like Burke Winslow will be on the marriage market in another six years." Edith said.

"You're right," Ally whispered. "I knew this was my last chance, and I screwed up. I did something I should never have done. Wow! Just like before."

"You didn't leave him again, did you?"

When Ally shook her head, Edith asked, "Well, what on earth did you do that was so bad?"

Ally blushed hotly. She couldn’t tell her grandmother that she'd had hot, wild sex with Burke. "Maybe I should have played hard to get," she mumbled. Like that popular rule book that was published a few years ago advised. She'd been so easy it was laughable.

"Oh, I see," Edith said, nodding. "I take the, uh," she hesitated, "earth did not move?"

Ally choked on a laugh. "Granny!"

"I may be your grandmother, but I do know how important s-e-x is to a relationship," she said primly. "So it was nothing to write home about," she stated flatly.

"No! That’s not true. It was," Ally dropped her head. She fanned her hand in front of her heated face. "Better than before," she admitted.

"Well, that’s because you are both older. Trust me, dear, sex when you're young is nothing compared to sex when you're older."

"Granny!" Ally was shocked anew. How could her grandmother even have knowledge of matters such as these?

Edith continued, "You were nothing but kids when you married." She sighed. "I always felt responsible for what happened. If you hadn’t been staying with me that summer, you’d never have met Burke. I never thought you two would run off and get married."

"Why, Granny, I didn’t know you felt that way."

"Well, I do. I’d do anything to make it right, Ally. I know your mother and Chuck have always blamed me. I thought my son would disown me after you and Burke announced you were getting married. My, but he was upset."

"Then why didn’t he and Mom put up a bigger fuss when they flew home?" Ally asked.

Edith smiled. "I asked him the same thing. He said he took one look at your young man and saw himself when he’d first met your mother."

"I never knew that," Ally said, marveling at that bit of information. She rolled her eyes. "Can you imagine what they’re going to say when they find out about this fiasco?"

"Well, if nothing comes of this," Edith began.

"And it won’t!" Ally interrupted.

"Then I don’t see any reason to tell them anything," Edith said. "I’ll keep it quiet if you will."

"Oh, Granny, you’re the best."

"I just wish old age had brought more wisdom," Edith said with a fond smile. "It’s so hard to know if you’re doing the right thing when you meddle."

"You’re not meddling," Ally said, reaching over and hugging her.

"Then let me not meddle some more and ask you this. I suspect you think Tiffany has Burke wrapped around her little finger. So what are you doing to unwrap him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, in my day, if a woman wanted a man, she went after him. As near as I can see, you have a prior claim on your man. Are you just going to hand him over without a fight?"

"But you don’t understand. He doesn’t want me. I don't think he even wants Tiffany. I think she really is just a business associate." Ally said earnestly. "I'd almost be happy for him if he did want Tiffany. I don't like to think of him without someone to love him." Tears spilled over her eyes.

Edith brushed Ally's tousled hair away from her forehead. "You're very wise, child. Men who are married to their businesses often end up lonely old men. Too late they realize what they sacrificed along the way."

"I don't want that to happen to Burke," Ally whispered.

"Then fight for him."

"But how? How do you fight a man to steal him away from a mistress when that mistress is a business? He hasn't even been home these last few nights. I just don't know what to do!"

"Are you sure about that? Let me give you something to think about. It takes two to tango."

Ally waited. Finally she said, "It takes to tango, and. . . ?" She lifted her brows in question.

"That’s all. Just think about that. If you got something from the other night that was worth writing home about, don't you think he did too?"

Ally felt the color flood her face again. "But, if that was true, why hasn't he come to me? Talked to me? At least called me?"

"Who knows? He's a man, dear. They're not logical creatures when it comes to emotions. If it weren't for women, they'd all still be living in caves. All I'm saying is think about how you felt during your, uh, night of passion. And then think how he was likely to be feeling those same emotions."

Her grandmother lifted the teapot. "Now, more tea before you go?"

Chapter 14

By tonight it would all be over, Burke thought, studying his reflection in the mirror. The caterer had arrived with the serving staff, and delectable odors wafted through the busy house. The last time he’d gone to check on their progress, he’d seen that everything was ready.

Silver serving dishes glittered on the buffet. Sparkling crystal waited for the bartender. Fresh flowers filled every room. Even Deirdre Henry had a smile, albeit small, on her angular face. He should be pleased. But he wasn’t.

He checked the gold watch as he closed the clasp around his wrist. He’d asked Tiffany and the rest of the staff to show up an hour early. He’d heard the doorbell ring several times so figured that they had arrived.

Tonight was the last time he would have to trot out Ally and display her as his wife. He should be relieved that their marriage of convenience was almost over. But he wasn’t. Somehow, all the joy seemed to have seeped out of his life with each day that had passed. Even Rod had commented on what a sour bastard he had become of late. It was all Ally’s fault. No matter how hard he’d tried to justify her desertion the night they’d made love, it ate at him. Why had she left him alone in the bed? Wasn’t he good enough for her? Hadn’t her world tilted on its axis the way his had when they’d looked into each other's eyes?

She’d avoided him consistently the next day and the day after. Every time he'd called, Mrs. Henry had told him she was out. He'd left messages, but she'd never returned any of the calls. Finally, even he got the message that she didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to talk with him. Didn’t want to even look at him, he guessed. She was running away from him just as she had six years ago. He didn't know why. And that made him crazy.

He'd wanted to ask her why she was doing this to him. To them. But his pride held him in check. She'd broken his heart once before, but that hadn't stopped him from falling for her all over again. That made him a fool in his eyes. And he couldn't abide fools.

He guessed she was spending her days with that damned artist from Dallas. As Burke’s mood darkened, everyone seemed to avoid him. Even Tiffany, who was usually immune to anything in the world except business, had stayed away from the office.

Well, for better or worse, tonight was the night. He straightened his tie. Strains of Gershwin reached his ears. The combo he’d hired had begun playing. "It’s show time," he told his reflection.

Minutes later, Burke greeted the elder Sakamoto, who wore a beautifully-tailored severe black suit, and his son Nishi, the heir-apparent, dressed in expensive, and trendier, Armani. He was talking to Nishi when he noticed the young man's eyes widen with admiration.

Burke glanced over his shoulder to see what had captured Nishi's attention. He felt hot color flood his face. He was going to throttle Ally. Just as soon as he got her alone. How dare her wear something so . . . so totally provocative. She had the attention of every man in the room as she swayed toward him.

"Mr. Sakamoto, may I present my wife Ally," Burke said, linking his arm with hers and pulling her close. That was his undoing. He could smell that perfume of hers. Even her neck looked sexier than a neck should with tendrils of her soft dark hair artfully curling against the nape. With difficulty, he said, "Ally is an accountant."

He could feel the heat rising from her flesh which wasn't unusual given the deep vee of the tight black dress she wore. Every exposed inch of skin called to him. His body obligingly responded with a heat of its own. Her dress, her whole appearance, just screamed, "Take me."

"Irasshaimase," Ally murmured with a polite bow no lower than the bow Sakamoto offered her.

Thankfully, the dress was so tight that her breasts remained covered. Burke felt dizzy with desire. He breathed a sigh of relief when she straightened.

"Ah!" Sakamoto smiled. "How nice to be welcomed in my own language. You speak Japanese?"

"Unfortunately no," Ally said, "I’ve always wanted to learn though because I had a friend in college who was from Kyoto. Luckily for me, she spoke English. She's the one who taught me a few words of your expressive language."

Burke stared at Ally as if she’d suddenly started spouting Martian. She had Sakamoto senior eating out of her hand. The two chatted while Burke watched. He'd only managed to pry a few gruff words of conversation from the man in the past.

When Nishi strolled over, Sakamoto made the introductions. Then a volley of Japanese between father and son had them both smiling at Ally who proceeded to charm Nishi Sakamoto too. For his part, Burke didn’t like the way Nishi's eyes checked out Ally's body. The young heir better be analyzing the cost of the silk fabric of her dress, he thought grimly.

After a big, Burke relaxed enough to leave Ally talking with Sakamoto while he went looking for Tiffany. She needed to get involved in the conversation too, but he couldn’t see his partner anywhere.

Another wave of guests arrived then. To Burke’s consternation, that damned man from Dallas was one of the new arrivals. Who had invited him? As if he didn’t know.

"Ally Cat," the obnoxious oaf called out. He came over and grabbed her in a bear hug.

For a minute, Burke was afraid her dress wouldn’t pass this last stress test. He unbuttoned his jacket, ready to throw it over her should a seam pop.

Ally smiled. "Where have you been, stranger? I saw more of you in Dallas than I have here."

Burke looked at the man in surprise. If he hadn’t been occupying Ally’s time, what had she been doing on her excursions in the Jag?

"Hey, Brick, how's it going?" Kesey asked, extending his hand.

"Fine, Presley," Burke answered gripping the man's hand and squeezing as hard as he could. The artist again gave as good as he got.

Ally turned toward Sakamoto and his son. "This is my friend Preston Kesey from Dallas. He's an artist whose work appears in several prominent collections in the Southwest," she said.

"An artist? What medium do you work in, Mr. Kesey?" the younger Sakamoto asked.

"I prefer oil," Preston answered. He flexed the fingers of his right hand. "Though it may be a while before I can hold a brush."

He and Nishi talked at length about French impressionism. After several minutes, Nishi produced a card and handed it to Preston. "I'd be very interested to see your work. Please call me so we can set up an appointment."

Surprised, Preston grinned. "Look forward to it."

Unwilling to test Burke's forbearance longer, Ally took advantage of a lull in the conversation to excuse herself politely. She took Preston’s arm, steering him to another group.

Burke eyed her hands clasped around the man’s arm and had to use every ounce of his self-control to keep from separating them.

* * *

Preston grinned at Burke's discomfiture. He flexed his right hand and wiggled his fingers. The man had a grip. "I'll be glad when you and Burke have your problems worked out," he said.

"What do you mean?" Ally asked. Then she looked at his hand. "Did you hurt your hand?"

"No, your neanderthal husband hurt my hand."

"He's not my husband, Preston, and I'm sure he had nothing to do with you hand injury. "

"Ally, give it up. You're so hung up on him that you can't see the forest for the trees."

"Would you quit talking in riddles and tell me what you mean," Ally implored.

"Allow me to demonstrate." Preston pointed at Burke across the room. He seemed engrossed in conversation. "See the man who's not your husband?"

She nodded.

"Watch," he commanded as he put his arm around Ally.

To her surprise, Burke's head turned their way. Even from here, she could see the scowl on his face.

"Get the picture?" Preston asked, squeezing her. "He's got radar where you're concerned, and he doesn't want me touching you."

"Yes," she sighed dolefully. "He's so jealous of you. With me."

He shook his head. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I thought it was. But I've decided that jealousy doesn't mean anything in the long run. It's just a sign that someone wants to own you, but their uncertain of their ownership. I don't want to be owned by him. And I certainly don't want to be used to close a business deal."

Burke's jealousy hurt. He'd possessed her in the most elemental way, yet he didn't seem to realize that she'd yielded to him because she loved him. He'd used their night of passion to inflate his ego and lord his ownership of her. He wanted to lord it over Preston. Wasn't there any way she could reach him, make him see the truth?

Preston's eyes searched the room. "Is Tiffany here yet?"

"I don't believe so," Ally replied absently. "Preston, if you were the jealous type. . . ."

"Which I'm not," he said with a grin. "I guess because I'm more in touch with feelings than most. Chalk it up to being an artist."

"But if you were, and you wanted not be, what would keep you from getting jealous in the first place?"

He winked at her. "Self-control."

She slapped his arm. "Just answer the question."

"Okay. It's simple. The only thing that would help, really, would be knowing you possessed the other person's undying love."

"I think you missed your calling. You should have been a poet," Ally said softly and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Preston."

"Ally," he groaned. "Are you trying to get my head bashed in?"

* * *

Burke saw red when Ally kissed Preston Kesey on the cheek, but he relaxed when he saw her leave her friend and circulate to the next group of guests near her. Burke listened to Sakamoto even as he watched Ally.

She saw that all the guests were introduced around and were given drinks. She excused herself and circulated to the other guests, checking with the caterers occasionally to make sure that food was plentiful and that the drinks flowed freely.

He was filled with pride as he saw how easily she fell into the role of his wife. It was as if they’d given dozens of parties together over the years.

"Your wife is amazing," Sakamoto said.

"Yes, she is," Burke said.

Ally was indeed a great hostess, making sure that no guest was alone, and that everyone got a chance to meet everyone else.

"Particularly amazing given that no one knew she existed," Nishi added.

"We’ve been estranged, but that’s all over," Burke said.

"So you have reconciled?" Nishi asked.

Burke looked at him, sensing the sharp interest that lay behind the polite question. He suddenly realized that his entire future hung in the balance. And not just because of the business deal at hand.

The moment passed as the door opened to another half dozen people. When he saw Tiffany, he was afraid his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"I see Ms. Estes just arrived," he murmured to the two men, "Would you excuse me while I fetch her?"

"At least my coat’s ready if need be," Burke muttered as soon as he reached Tiffany.

"What are you talking about?" Tiffany asked, looking around nervously.

"Tiff, what are you doing wearing something like that?" Burke demanded.

"I just thought a business suit would be out of place here," Tiffany huffed. "What’s wrong with my dress?"

"That’s a dress? There’s barely enough material in it to qualify as a dress."

Tiffany’s lips trembled. "Are you saying I’m not appropriately attired."

Ally reached them then. She took one look at Burke’s expression and the tears welling in Tiffany’s huge green eyes.

"Tiffany," she said, embracing the woman. "You look lovely tonight."

"I . . . I do?" Tiffany asked tremulously.

"Yes, you do. Mr. Sakamoto senior and junior are over here. I’m sure they wish to talk with you."

Burke opened his mouth to say something, but Ally sent him a look that made him rethink his immediate need to speak.

"Why don't we go to the powder room for a moment? Burke can continue keeping the Sakamoto family entertained.

"Sure," Burke said. "No problem. Join us as soon as you can." He looked at Tiffany again. She did look good in the red strapless dress. At least she wasn't his woman to have to worry about. "Uh, Tiff. I was out of line. You do look fantastic tonight."

"Really, Burke?" she asked anxiously.

"Really." He smiled as the two women swayed away on their high heels. He shook his head as he rejoined Mr. Sakamoto. What had come over Tiffany?

"Ms. Estes will join us in a moment. She and my wife had some urgent business," Burke explained, as he watched them wend their way through the room. What were the two women were saying to each other?

Ally wished Burke would quit looking at them.

"You're being awfully nice to me," Tiffany said.

"Well, I'm the hostess with the mostest," Ally said lightly as they entered the downstairs powder room. She locked the door behind them.

Pulling a tissue from the box, she handed it to Tiffany.

"Thanks." Tiffany carefully blotted below her eyelashes. She crumpled the tissue and sighed heavily. "I guess I should have worn a suit."

"No. No, you look great. All the men will mob you as soon as you go back to the party." She smiled.

"Thanks, Ally." Tiffany cast her eyes down. "Would you answer a question for me?"

"I guess. What's the question?"

"Are you serious in your relationship with," she paused and took a deep breath.

"With Burke?" Ally finished. She didn't know how to reply. This was the woman who by all rights should be Burke's wife now.

"No! With Preston." Tiffany said, looking bewildered.

"With Preston?" Ally laughed. "My goodness! He's a friend. My best friend. Nothing more, Tiffany."

"But I don't understand. The way he acted in the restaurant that night. And Burke said he was your lover."

Ally had the grace to blush. "Don't tell Burke, but I made it all up, Tiffany."

"Why would you do something like that?"

"For a million reasons, none of them very good. I was trying to make Burke jealous." She sighed. "Jealous like I used to be." Grudgingly, she confessed, "As I still seem to be where that man is concerned. I was jealous of you, Tiffany."

Tiffany blushed. "Because of that stunt I pulled at lunch that day. And then the way I flirted that night in the restaurant. I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. I was just mad because you had fouled up our wedding." She shrugged. "I figured it was my only chance to get married because I've never even had a boyfriend."

Ally's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding. Right?"

Tiffany's chin trembled. "No. I was in advanced and gifted-talented from the moment I entered school. I never had time for anything but studies. Even when I started to blossom, as my dad said, I was so shy I couldn't even talk to boys. When I got in high school, no one ever asked me out."

"Hey, they probably all thought you were so beautiful that you always had a date. They were just afraid of rejection."

Tiffany looked confused. "Do you really think so?"

"Sure I do. Didn't your mother ever tell you that?"

Tiffany's gaze fell. "My mom died when I was three. My dad and my brothers raised me."

"Well that explains a lot." She patted Tiffany's shoulder. "One woman to another, let me explain, Tiffany. I went a little crazy when I saw you standing next to Burke in the church. You were marrying my husband. Of course, Burke didn't help matters when he intimated that even though it was a marriage of convenience that you two were lovers. So I kind of intimated that I had a lover too."

Tiffany's eyes rounded. "You're still in love with Burke, aren't you."

"Guilty as charged," Ally said, plopping onto the gold velvet chaise lounge.

Tiffany sat next to her. "This is too funny. You're in love with Burke so you get Preston to come down here to make Burke jealous. Then I fall in love with Preston, and I'm jealous of you."

"You're in love with Preston?" Ally squealed. At Tiffany's doleful nod, Ally hugged her. "But that's great. Preston's wonderful!"

Ally's smile faltered. "But what about Burke?"

"What about him?" Tiffany asked, checking her hair.

Someone knocked on the door. "I guess we'd better give someone else the chance to come in," Ally said, disturbed by Tiffany's casual indifference. She didn't seem to think that Burke would be upset by her defection.

"Let's rejoin the gentlemen," Ally suggested.

"What are you going to do about Burke?" Tiffany asked.

"Do?" Ally asked, thinking that was a strange question. "Why I'll just play the role as best I can. Then I'll go home to Dallas and get the divorce we agreed on."

"Oh," Tiffany said quietly. She studied Ally's bright smile. "I'm sorry, Ally."

Ally guided the younger woman toward the Japanese gentlemen.

"There you are," Burke said, smiling. "Gentlemen, you know Ms. Estes."

Tiffany bowed politely and greeted the men. Burke said very little as Ally guided the conversation. She brought out the best in Tiffany, allowing the woman to display her broad wealth of knowledge about finance. Facts and figures flew out of Tiffany’s mouth as easily as some people sang songs.

That is until Preston wandered over. Tiffany halted in the middle of a word. Eventually, she managed to finish her sentence, but it made little sense to anyone.

Ally smiled, knowing the reason for Tiffany's abrupt loss of vocal skills. She glanced at Preston and noticed that his hand had strayed to Tiffany's back. No one else saw, but she, as his fingers traced lazy circles on Tiffany's skin.

Preston chatted a little with Nishi Sakamoto, but Tiffany was left speechless. Ally took pity on the poor girl. "Gentlemen, would you please excuse Ms. Estes, Mr. Kesey, and me?"

To Burke's surprise, the trio walked away. He wanted to follow them, but he couldn't. He quickly lost sight of them as they slipped through the crowd.

Burke lured Dave Hernandez and Craig Bishop into the conversation. Pretty soon he had them talking about a new game they'd developed. As soon as the four were engrossed in the conversation, he excused himself and slipped away to find Ally.

Chapter 15

"I should have known you'd be out here," Burke said coming up behind Ally. "You really love this pool, don't you?"

She smiled over her shoulder at him. "Yes, I do. It's beautiful here in the moonlight." She felt a deep sadness. She'd made so many mistakes where Burke was concerned. She now knew the truth about love. It didn't truly exist when tempered with jealousy.

She loved Burke. Chances are, she'd never stopped. But she didn't think the same could be said of Burke. Oh, she suspected that he had loved her six years ago, but she'd mangled that love beyond repair.

"Hello, beautiful." Burke's lips touched the tender cord of her neck. She shuddered in response. The only thing left between them was this hot desire that just wouldn't fade.

"Don't," Ally breathed.

"Why not? You're my wife. I'm your husband. The moonlight is intoxicating." He kissed her again. "And I'm crazy for you."

Ally inhaled sharply. "We might be husband and wife now, but what about next week when I go home to Dallas?"

Burke froze. "Go home?"

"Yes," Ally said, praying he would sweep her into his arms and pledge his love.

Burke resumed his kisses, stringing them up her throat and along her jaw line. His hands swept over her body, tracing the swells of her breasts. If he intoxicated her with passion, surely Ally would relent and stay with him.

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," he said, using all his skill to drug her senses with his hands and his mouth.

Ally shivered. "But what about our divorce?" She waited for the words she needed to hear. And waited. But the words didn't come.

Burke pushed his anger down. How could she want that damned divorce? Especially after what they'd experienced together? Didn't she care at all? His mouth touched hers lightly. "Come on, Ally, let's not talk about that now. Can't you feel the magic between us?" He turned her to face him. His hands cupped her buttocks and pulled her to him.

"Remember how good it felt the other night?" he asked. "We could slip through the doors over there and be in my bedroom in a second."

When he kissed her, she didn't resist. Instead, she poured her heart into the kiss. She kissed him as if she'd never stop. His breathing became ragged.

"I want you," she whispered. "I need you so much, Burke."

"And you can have me," he whispered roughly.

She felt the hard evidence of his desire. He still hadn't said what she needed to hear. What she must hear before she could give herself to him again.

"Burke, please," she said, intending to beg him to tell her how he felt.

"I will please you, Ally," Burke promised, his voice hoarse with desire. "I'll please you more than any man ever has.

Ally's eyes snapped open. "What did you say?"

"You heard me, sweetheart." He kissed her hair and then the dimple at the corner of her mouth. "Only I can pleasure you the way you need."

His mouth slid down her throat to the tender cord at the side. He kissed her there and then nipped lightly with his teeth, making her cry out her need.

"I'll make you cry out in joy like that," he whispered against her throat. "Just like the other night. I'll love you so thoroughly that you'll never remember how it felt to be in another man's bed."

She pushed at him. He stumbled back and fell into one of the deck chairs.

"What?" He looked up. "What's wrong with you?"

"You're not crazy for me. You're crazy period. All you want is this deal to go through. You don't care about me except as something to own. A toy to keep all to yourself. You have a nerve." She was in a towering rage. "Another man's bed?" She snapped, tapping her foot angrily. "Why don't you explain that comment?"

Burke cursed beneath his breath, emotionally wrung out and wanting her so much he ached from it. "I'm not the one who bragged about my conquests," he parried.

"Back to that again? I didn't brag. And they weren't conquests," Ally defended.

"Right. Let's see, how did you phrase it? Your active social life?"

"Yes, I do have one. That's not the same thing as nailing every man in sight."

He snorted. "I'll just bet. How many more men do you have sniffing around your skirts in Dallas?"

"You're being obnoxious." Ally willed the anger to rise. It was so much better than the hurt that waited for her.

"I am, huh? What kind of fun and games do you and your friend Preston indulge in?" Burke seemed hell-bent on lashing out at her. "What have you been doing with him while you've been hiding from me?"

"You are also being crude," Ally said.

"I know a hot babe when I see one, and I'm looking at one now. You dressed for seduction in that dress, so don't bother denying it."

"You're also as dense as a fence post." Ally whirled.

Frustrated at her continued rejection, Burke grabbed her arm. "I'll be damned if I let you carry on with him under my roof so don't even think about trying to smuggle him into your bed to satisfy the need I created in you."

Ally jerked her arm from his grasp. "Don't come near me again, or I'll make sure you can't satisfy any woman for a long while, Burke Winslow."

* * *

Preston and Tiffany stayed silent, huddled in the shadows behind the big oak tree until Burke adjusted his trousers and returned to the party. Now was not the time to chase down Ally and offer her comfort. Or to confront Burke and pound some sense into his hard skull.

"I tried to tell Ally," Tiffany said. She stared up into Preston's eyes.

"Tell her what, love?" Preston kissed the end of her nose.

"That Burke must still be in love with her. Why else would he be using me to make her jealous?"

"How did he do that?"

"Burke and I have never had anything beyond friendship between us, but he suggested to Ally that we were lovers. Think back to the restaurant when you were sitting with Ally. Remember how strangely Burke was acting?"

"Strangely?"

"Yes, whispering to me. Laughing with me. True, I was flirting with him, just to get back at Ally. But he'd never acted like that before with me. He was playing up to me just to make her jealous. Even I could see that. When all the time, he was only telling me dumb jokes he'd got off the Internet."

"Jokes? Why I thought he was saying wicked, sexy things to you." Preston kissed her eyes closed.

"Burke?" Tiffany's nose wrinkled. "I'd be surprised if he even thinks about sex."

"Oh, trust me, he does," Preston said, molding her lips to his. Then they forgot the other couple.

* * *

Ally made it to her bedroom without anyone witnessing her stricken expression. She'd had her second chance, but she hadn't been able to rekindle the love Burke had once felt for her. All she'd elicited had been desire. Lust. And she wasn't willing to settle for that.

With shaking hands, she studied her appearance. Other than being a bit pale, she didn't look like a woman whose heart had broken into pieces.

Maybe maturity brought some kind of acceptance and wisdom. At least she'd learned that life did go on. Somehow, you functioned and eventually healed.

She loved Burke. That was a fact that would always be a part of her. But he didn't want her love. He didn't want marriage to her. He only wanted two things from her. One was to stamp his male brand on her for Preston to see. The other was for her to convince Sakamoto of his trustworthiness and stability as a married man.

Perhaps, if she didn't fall apart at the seams, she could help him successfully conclude his business deal. She loved him enough to try. She feared his business would be the only thing that would ever matter to him so maybe it was fitting that she help him however she could.

Ally took a deep breath and prepared to give the performance of her life. At least she could give Burke the Sakamoto deal as a parting gift.

Chapter 16

For the next few hours Ally acted a part that would surely have won her an Academy Award, she thought, pausing for breath.

She had regaled Sakamoto-san and Nishi-san with anecdote after anecdote, all designed to point out the stable relationship she and Burke possessed. Maybe she should write fiction, she thought bitterly, laughing at something Nishi said.

The housekeeper came over to consult with her. Ally excused herself and followed Deirdre to the kitchen. From the corner of her eye, she saw Burke approach Sakamoto. Good. Let him finish the play-acting, she thought.

"Should we open any more champagne, Mrs. Winslow? It's getting rather late, and I presume everyone would be leaving soon."

Ally looked at the tub of iced down bottles. "Sure. Why not? Open all of them. In fact, I'll have a bottle all my own," she said.

"Very well," Deirdre said primly.

Evidently, she disapproved. Good, Ally thought. Let the Drill Sergeant disapprove. She didn't care. She waited while the waiter filled a tray of champagne flutes.

"I haven't had a thing to eat or drink tonight," Ally said. "So it's time for me to eat, drink, and be merry." She lifted a glass and handed it to Deirdre. "Drink up, Mrs. Henry. You're behind. And so am I."

With that, Ally downed the entire glassful.

Deirdre Henry stared at her aghast. Then to Ally's astonishment, she downed her glass in the wink of an eye.

Ally whooped with laughter. "Way to go, Mrs. H." She grabbed two more glasses from the waiter's tray. "Here, have another."

When Deirdre raised it and began gulping it, Ally reached out and stopped her. "Better take that one slower," she advised.

Deirdre mumbled. "Yes, you're right. Thank you."

Ally smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "My pleasure." She turned to go then stopped. Turning back she said, "By the way, you did a great job. This was quite a party."

The woman blushed crimson. "Thank you, Mrs. Winslow. I'm glad you noticed." The woman's gaze met Ally's then moved away. "By the way, there's something I should probably tell you."

Ally smiled. "Hold the thought. We'll talk later. I need to get back." She hurried from the kitchen. The glass of wine she'd tossed back had warmed her considerably so she drained the one she held to keep the heat going. The champagne-induced warmth felt much better than the icy self-restraint that had permeated her entire being since she'd left Burke on the patio.

She strolled around making sure everyone was having a good time. She really should eat something she thought, but she just wasn't hungry. She lifted another glass of champagne from the waiter's tray and watched as he made his way through the room.

When the waiter reached Burke and Sakamoto, she was gratified to see each of them take a glass. Perhaps they were going to toast their successful deal, she thought, feeling only emptiness at the prospect.

Burke and his guests settled into a quiet corner. She watched and was rewarded to see their faces wreathed in smiles. Suddenly she saw Burke lift his glass in salute to her.

* * *

Burke's hand was sweaty on the glass. So Ally thought that the only thing he wanted her for was to close this deal? He'd show her how wrong she was.

"My wife is very beautiful, isn't she?" he asked.

"Most beautiful," Nishi was quick to say.

"There's only one problem," Burke said. "She's not really my wife."

"Your wife is not your wife?" Sakamoto questioned, sitting straighter.

"Well, she is my wife, but we got divorced. Six years ago. Except she never filed the papers, so we're still actually married."

Burke felt a huge weight being lifted from his shoulders. If this would win Ally back, then the twenty million dollar gesture would be worth it.

Sakamoto said something in Japanese to his son.

"And you see Miss Estes over there? My business partner?" Burke pointed to where Tiffany stood arm in arm with Preston Kesey.

"Yes," Sakamoto said, "A very nice young lady."

"She and I were engaged."

"What?" Nishi and Sakamoto asked in unison.

"Well, we were until Ally showed up."

Furious Japanese flowed back and forth between Sakamoto and his son.

Burke began to relish this destruction of what amounted to a year's negotiation. If you were going to crash and burn, he thought, you might as well do it in a big way.

"And you see the man she's standing with?"

At their nod, he said, "That's my wife's boyfriend from Dallas."

"What is the meaning of this?" Sakamoto senior asked, jerking to his feet.

Burke sipped his champagne. Time to get it over with. It was close to midnight, and he was beginning to turn into a pumpkin.

Chapter 17

Ally said warm farewells to the two Japanese gentlemen. She was grateful that they finally departed though their rapid-fire Japanese comments, not to mention their strange glances at her, left her puzzled.

After that, the guests began to trickle away in twos and threes. She sighed gratefully when the door closed behind the last one.

"Well, Mrs. Henry," she said, tiredly, "as the old song said, 'the shindig is over.'"

Deirdre frowned. "I don't remember those exact words."

Ally waved her hand airily. "Different words. Same meaning. I'm going to call it a day. This bottle of champagne and I have a date." She grabbed a half-full bottle and a glass and headed for the stairs.

Climbing the stairs was as difficult as scaling a mountain, she thought, when at last she reached her bedroom. She stumbled inside and locked the bedroom door. She didn't want to make it easy, in case her husband wanted to discuss conjugal rights.

She was exhausted. She peeled her dress off and the black corset beneath. Somehow, she found the energy to wash the makeup off her face and brush her teeth. But she was simply too tired to shower and shampoo the hair spray out of her upswept hair style.

Ally turned back the covers on the bed and crawled in. Then she reached for the bottle of champagne. She'd never swigged champagne straight from the bottle before, she thought, rebelliously tipping the bottle back.

Yuk. It didn't mix well with the taste of toothpaste at all. But it should work great as a sleeping aid. She took another swig then set the bottle on the bed table and slid between the sheets. With a soft sigh, in a moment, she was asleep.

* * *

Sometime, it could have been an hour later or eight hours later, she roused. Something had woken her. Some noise.

"Ally? Ally, let me in. We need to talk."

"Talk. schmalk," she mumbled. She knew what Burke had on his brain and it had nothing to do with talk. She pulled a pillow over her head and shut out his voice.

To her surprise, she awoke at dawn. Golden rays of light slipped between the slats of the wood blinds and slanted across her bed.

Ally groaned and sat up, wide awake, but with a headache ferocious enough to bring low the strongest man. Her mouth tasted like the bottom of something she didn't wish to contemplate. Yet, for reasons unknown, she was as alert and full of energy as if she'd had a restful eight hours of sleep.

She stretched and contemplated how to bring sanity back to her life as soon as possible. She shoved the covers aside and swung her feet to the floor. She was only a little wobbly as she staggered to the bathroom. Not bad for a woman who'd been up nearly twenty hours without any sustenance other than champagne.

She could do this, she decided, ducking under the shower spray. It was easy. All she had to do was not think. She'd be like Scarlett O'Hara and think about things tomorrow. That philosophy had served old Scarlett rather well. Of course, not thinking about Burke took some doing, she discovered as she prepared to leave. But she'd have plenty of time to master the skill.

She didn't bother taking anything with her except her handbag. With the exception of the dress she wore by necessity, which Burke had purchased, she wanted no reminders of the time spent here. It would be easier that way.

Mrs. Henry had been given the morning off so the house was quiet. Ally actually felt regret that she wouldn't have a chance to say good-bye to the old Drill Sergeant. She'd grown quite fond of the woman, she discovered.

Hurriedly, she penned a note to Burke telling him she would leave the Jag at the park and ride lot closest to the airport.

Weakness hit her then. She couldn't walk out without a last look around at his home. She hoped he'd be happy here.

* * *

Burke awoke to the ringing doorbell. He opened his eyes and looked around and discovered he was in his own bed. Alone. Damn! He'd planned to wind up in Ally's bed last night. Though he'd tried to rouse her several times during the wee hours of the morning, she'd ignored him.

The bell rang again and again.

"All right. All right. I'm coming." Blearily, he focused on trying to get his robe on. Eventually, he managed to stagger to the door and fling it open.

"Tiffany. What do you want?" He blinked against the bright sunlight. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Why, yes," she said, looking at her watch. "It's one in the afternoon."

That woke him up. "It is?" How had he slept so late? And where was Ally? The house was ominously quiet.

"I just had to come tell you the news. Nishi Sakamoto just called."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about that, Tiffany. I'll make it up to you somehow. I know how much you wanted to make that deal work."

"What are you talking about? They want to sign the papers as soon as we're ready."

Burke shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry. Something must be wrong with my ears. I thought you said they went for the deal."

"They did." She frowned. "Although I don't understand their explanation exactly."

"Why? What did they say?"

"Let me see if I can remember his exact words. Nishi said that his father expected Americans to be highly individualistic, but that you worked too hard at it. But they figured if you could make your relationships work then you could certainly handle any business problems that arose." She frowned. "Does that make any sense?"

Burke laughed. He laughed until he had tears running down his face. "Yeah. In a weird way, I guess it does."

"Well, I'll leave you to celebrate with Ally." Tiffany hesitated, "By the way. I'm taking a few days off. Thought I'd go to Dallas. Maybe take in some art."

Burke remembered her and Preston with their arms linked. That made him laugh even harder.

* * *

He wasn't laughing two hours later as he retrieved his Jaguar from the park and ride lot at Hobby Airport.

"Gee, I'm sorry, Mr. Winslow. I don't know how that scratch got on the hood," the manager said. "But I'm sure it was like that when it came in here."

"Never mind. The car doesn't matter. Just gas it up for me."

Fifteen minutes later, he was on the Gulf Freeway headed north. If Preston was right, and Ally went to her office first, he'd get to her apartment before she did. If he pushed it. Fortunately, though the Jag was a bit battered, its engine purred just fine. He could make the trip in record time if he didn't get stopped for speeding.

This time, he'd teach Ally that running away wasn't the answer to their problems.

Chapter 18

Sighing with relief, Ally opened the door to her apartment. She was so tired that she wished she hadn't gone straight to the office. All those hours spent catching up on email and correspondence had drained her. She sniffed. That was odd. Her apartment smelled like fresh-brewed coffee. She tossed her purse on the chair in the small foyer then walked into the living room.

"It's about time you got home," Burke said.

Startled, Ally yelped. When she saw him sitting calmly on her couch, she sagged in relief. Her hand pressed to her chest to slow her racing heart.

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed.

"Is that any way to greet your husband?" He rose from the couch and walked toward her.

Ally backed away. "Don't come any closer." Her relief transformed to sheer panic.

Burke stopped. His head slanted to the side and he regarded her with amusement. "Relax, Ally. You and I have some business to discuss."

"Business!" She said the word as if it were something repugnant. "I've done all I can to help you with your business, Burke. I can't do any more. I can't be your wife any more."

He took another step toward her.

"Don't come any closer. I'll call for Percy. He's just across the hall."

"You mean Preston," Burke said, grinning.

"Right. Right," Ally said, rattled.

"It won't do you any good to call him."

"Why not?"

"He isn't home. He's still in Houston. How do you think I got your key? And who do you think told me "

"I don't know. Maybe you de-materialized and slid through the keyhole."

At his quiet chuckle, she said, "Give me my key."

"You know, I kind of like this bossy side of you."

Ally had a flash of memory. Of her on top of him, telling him how she wanted to be loved. She couldn't help the blush, but she fought the desire nonetheless. She snapped her fingers. "Now. Give it."

"I'll be glad to give it to you," he said, covering the distance between them in two long strides. "But I'm not talking about any old key. Unless it's the key to my heart."

Then he was all over her, and she was too swept away to protest.

* * *

A long while later, Ally awoke. Something was tickling her nose. She opened her eyes and found Burke above her. He was brushing a strand of hair back and forth across the tip of her nose.

"Is this some kind of exotic torture," she asked, stretching lazily. She liked the fact that his eyes followed her every languid movement.

"It's time for that talk I mentioned."

"Oh, Burke, don't spoil things now."

He shushed her with a kiss. "No, sweetheart. This won't spoil anything, but it will explain several things. What I have to say will make everything right."

And it did.

Epilogue

"Hurry, Burke, we're going to be late," Ally said anxiously.

"If we don't get to the church on time, it won't be my fault. You know how I am about red lingerie." He grinned at her.

"You are so bad," she said with a giggle.

"And aren't you glad?" He waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer.

"There it is," Ally cried.

Burke swung the steering wheel of the Jag. In a maneuver worthy of an action film, he cornered expertly and swooped into the driveway of the church, double-parking the car. "Come on, Ally, let's hustle."

They rushed in and dashed to the room reserved for the wedding party.

"We made it," Ally cried. "There's my grandmother and your grandfather. Prepare for a lecture on punctuality."

Frederick Winslow and Edith Fletcher turned. They both looked anxious.

"I think the only wedding you two have ever made on time was your own," Frederick grumbled. "Help me with this darn tie, Burke."

Ally and Burke exchanged amused glances and began to fulfill their duties as matron of honor and best man.

Before they lined up for the processional, Burke pulled Ally aside. He thanked the powers that be that he'd had a second chance with her for he couldn't imagine life without her.

"How many weddings does this make that we've been to in this church?" he asked, gazing into her eyes.

"Counting our first one and your near second one, and then our reaffirmation of vows, we keep this place in business," Ally said, laughter sparkling in her happy eyes. "My favorite part though is always the end when the minister says you can kiss the bride."

Burke looked over at Frederick and Edith as they waited for the strains of The Wedding March. The nervous couple were getting a jump on the minister's instructions as they kissed and whispered together.

Ally followed his gaze and smiled at the two people who meant so much to her. Granny Edith had known for months about the unsigned divorce papers. When she'd met Frederick on that cruise and discovered who he was, the two had decided to lend Fate a hand.

Without their meddling, she and Burke would never have been brought together in such a dramatic way. She swallowed against the knot of emotion.

"When do you think we should tell them they're going to be great grandparents?" Burke whispered, reaching out and stroking her flat stomach.

"Why don't we wait until their reception," Ally said. "In the meantime, let's practice that last part of the ritual, just in case we decide to have another wedding."

Laughing, he teased her with a chaste kiss on her lips.

"You call that a kiss?" Ally teased. "Come on, Burke, kiss me like you mean it. Like I'm still the only woman for you."

"You are still the one, the only one, for me." Then Burke kissed her again, this time with all his heart and soul poured into it.

The End

Meet Joan Reeves

Hello! I'm Joan Reeves. I write funny, sexy romance novels about two people who have yet to discover that they are made for each other. Why? Because I think the world needs more laughter, love, and committed relationships!

I guess you want to know a little about me or you wouldn't be reading this. I can never figure out the best way to write a biography for readers. Should I use third person, as if some unknown assistant were writing it? (I should be so lucky!)

Ms. Reeves is a multi-published novelist who has seen her books published in North America, the United Kingdom, and in many countries of the world. She is known all over the Internet for her freelance writing published under her name, various pseudonyms, and as a ghost.

Now, doesn't that seem just a bit pretentious? Trust me on this. I'm the least pretentious person you'll ever meet. I'm just a small-town girl who ended up in a big city in Texas. In case you're wondering, yes, I do have that distinctive Texas drawl.

I lucked into writing as a profession. I say "lucked into" because when I started, way back about the time they invented sliced bread, I knew nothing about writing as a career. I just knew that I loved to read, and I loved to write stories.

Because I am a writer, my favorite people in the world, next to family, friends, and other writers, are readers, of course! By buying my book, you are now one of my BFF's (Best Friends Forever!).

When you buy my books, I promise you that I will always do my best to make sure you feel your money was well-spent.

If you'd like to read more about me, or read more of my writing, please visit my websites: SlingWords.blogspot.com and JoanReeves.com. I'll be publishing more ebooks, and I'll post information about these new books on my websites.

Next up will be Jane I'm Still Single Jones and a nonfiction book tentatively titled KISS Guide To Successful Blogging.

I'd like to leave you with some witty insight, but all I can come up with is what I laughingly tell everyone is my motto. It's my Vision Statement, and I try to live by these words. Maybe you'd like to adopt them as your motto or Vision Statement too.

"It's never too late to live happily ever after."

* * *

Ebooks by Joan Reeves

Available at Major Ebook Retailers

Just One Look

The Trouble With Love

Still The One

Excerpt, The Trouble With Love by Joan Reeves

Book 1 of Texas One Night Stands

Every woman makes mistakes.

Susannah Quinn glared at the door to the Sheriff's private office. Yep, every woman makes mistakes, but most women didn't have to put up with a constant reminder of their not so brilliant actions. And most women didn't have their mistake showing up at their office -– flaunting tanned muscles and polluting the environment with clouds of testosterone and male arrogance.

Of course, mistake didn't quite describe what she'd done. No tiny lapse in judgment for old Susannah Quinn. When she decided to throw common sense out the window, she didn't mess around. Her fair skin flamed at the memory.

Temporary insanity was the only explanation for her behavior. If temporary insanity was a legal defense in criminal court, shouldn't she also be able to escape punishment for her lapse in judgment? Instead, she had her mistake aka D. E. Hogan show up, right on her doorstep. That was cruel and unusual punishment if she'd ever heard of any. That kind of redress might be banned by the U. S. Constitution, but, apparently, in the grand cosmic scheme of things, it was still being dished out. What was even worse was that Hogan turned out to be the new consultant for the Murphy's Cove Police Department down on the coast. To make matters worse, he just had to drop by the Sheriff's office every blasted day.

Susannah picked up her coffee cup, an oversized white mug emblazoned with red letters: Deputies do it in mirrored sunglasses! She drained the lukewarm black coffee. Muttering beneath her breath at the injustice of it all, she slammed the heavy ceramic mug down.

"What's wrong with you this morning?" asked Grace Collier.

"Nothing." Susannah didn't look over at the dispatcher for fear of encouraging her. She'd known Grace, her best friend's mom, all her life and loved the outspoken woman, but she wasn't interested in being on the receiving end of one of Grace's well-meaning lectures.

The ringing phone saved her. Grace punched a button. "Dispatch. This is Grace."

Susannah ignored the conversation, knowing it was Grace's friend Eunice who ran the Courthouse Cafe across the street. The woman called every morning so she and Grace could discuss yesterday's episode of their favorite soap opera. Soap news ranked at the top of the list of excitement here in Vance.

There was never any criminal activity in Alton County. Other than high school seniors climbing the spindly old water tower to spray paint Class of whatever on the rusty tank. Sometimes, a few years passed before a kid got an itch and a can of spray paint along with the desire to immortalize his graduation from the consolidated high school that served most of the small towns in the county. Nothing ever happened in this narrow slice of coastal prairie far west of Houston. That was the way her uncle Barney Drummond, the Sheriff of Alton County ever since Susannah could remember, liked it. Life here moved as fast as a crawling turtle.

Not much occurred even down in Murphy's Cove, the county's richest town. Besides, the resort town had its own overpaid police department to deal with the few year-round residents as well as the many rich divorcees who mobbed the coastal enclave for the rich and perpetually bored.

The only hotbed of activity was over on the four-lane highway that sliced through part of Alton County. That's where the real action was. Susannah sighed. If catching speeders could be considered action. Disgruntled at her lot in life, she tried to return her attention to the report she was typing. Unfortunately, that reminded her of her temporary insanity.

"Just Hogan," he'd said when her uncle the Sheriff had introduced him. Susannah had shaken his hand as if she'd never laid eyes on him before.

Until Hogan, she'd had only one secret in her life. It had caused her humiliation and anger. Now, she had something else to hide. Ironically, Hogan was the only person on earth who knew anything about her first painful secret. One thing about being hurt, humiliated, and angry. Those emotions sure helped squash the warm tinglies that assaulted certain parts of her anatomy every time Hogan walked through the door. If only those painful emotions had changed her body's instinctive reaction to him.

Another sigh escaped her. There was just something about Hogan. If she'd been a woman given to flights of fancy, she'd have called it love at first sight. But she didn't believe in love. Much less love at first sight. She knew enough about human sexuality to know love at first sight was nothing but pheromones. Calling it smell at first sight would be more accurate. It was just basic primitive sexual response.

Whatever you called it, Susannah would do anything to keep Hogan from learning how susceptible she was to him. Her delicate chin squared in resolve. She might not be able to run away now that he was in her county, but she could stand and fight. Or take cover behind cynicism and sarcasm. Whatever worked.

"Just try to be agreeable, and the day will pass easier," Grace advised.

"Being agreeable is what got me stuck transforming Hogan's chicken scratch into a report. If this report's for the Mayor of Murphy's Cove, why can't Mr. Hotshot Consultant get someone in that police department to type it?"

"Maybe he likes the way you glow like a red warning light when he hands you his notes."

"It's the principle involved. I'm a deputy, not a secretary."

When Grace just chuckled, Susannah frowned. "Well, I am. Or I would be if I were given half a chance. Stop laughing. This isn't funny."

"You're too danged serious. Lighten up. Be nice to Hogan. After all, he was pretty gracious about that little faux pas as you call it."

"He was not! He was obnoxious and overbearing. I'll tell you what his initials stand for. D is for demanding. E is for egotistical. To top it all off, he got Uncle Barney to tear up the ticket."

"Tickets," Grace corrected. "One for parking. The other was for a cracked tail light on the Suburban he was driving. At least that's what you said."

"Tickets then. And the tail light was cracked." Susannah hoped Grace attributed the crimson that stained her cheeks to anger. That day, meeting Hogan again, here in her town, had shaken her. After her uncle had introduced him, Hogan had possessed the nerve to ask her to lunch. Fear had flooded her. Fear that he thought they could have a fling. Fear that he didn't want a fling. Most of all, fear that she might not be able to keep her hands off him.

When she'd declined his offer, his eyes had mocked her. She'd pretended to be absorbed in the fax from the state police that she'd been reading.

In a voice so soft she'd thought perhaps she'd imagined it, he'd said, "Coward."

Alarmed that he'd nailed it so perfectly, she'd not dared to look up. Moments later, the door had opened and closed. He'd left without challenging her further.

Later, returning from lunch, she'd seen a black Suburban pull up and double park behind the cars filling the diagonal slots in front of the Sheriff's office. She honestly hadn't realized it was Hogan driving until she'd walked over to ask the driver to park in the lot across from the courthouse.

His blue eyes had gleamed with amusement. And with something else. Something that made her breath catch. Suddenly, the heat of the July day intensified. She knew what Hogan was thinking. She could read it in his gaze as clearly as she could feel it in the pulse points of her body. And that really scared her. If only he hadn't looked at her that way. If the corner of his mouth hadn't lifted in that little smile.

All it had taken to send panic chasing after the shiver of sexual awareness was his softly spoken question. "Don't you think we have something to talk about, Susy?"

The timbre of his voice and the heat in his gaze were like flame to dry tinder. Terrified at her body's response to everything about him, Susannah had backed away. She shook her head. "Don't call me Susy." She knew her quavering voice must have matched her "deer in the headlights" expression.

"No heart to heart talk today? No problem. I'll be here a few weeks. We've got time."

Susannah had felt all the blood drain from her face. She'd felt hot and cold all in the same moment. She could find no words to counter what she viewed as a threat. To be honest, there was a traitorous part of her that wished she could leap into his arms. Into his bed. But that would be disastrous.

All she'd had to do was make a joke about that night. Pretend that she was sophisticated. Unfortunately, she'd lost the ability to put together a coherent sentence, much less a smart, hip response to defuse the situation. So she'd taken refuge from his searching gaze and husky voice by whipping out her ticket book from her khaki shirt pocket. Gruffly she'd explained he was illegally parked. She'd only intended to write a warning. But Hogan had flirted. He'd winked and softly said, "Are you sure you don't want to go someplace private and talk about this, Deputy? Maybe we can work something out?"

That had just increased her panic. In a flash she saw a future she dreaded. He'd finish his job at Murphy's Cove and shake the dust of this small town. If she yielded to her emotions, he'd leave her with nothing but regret. She'd ripped the ticket out and handed it to him. He'd laughed.

The sound was the match to her fuse. She seared him with a glance and walked around the Suburban, making a pretense of inspecting the lights on the rear of the Burb just to buy her panicked brain more time. In her most official voice, she said, "Your right rear tail light is cracked."

"Well, gee whiz, Officer," he said in a parody of a Texas drawl. "You sure as shootin' better write that up. Can't let a lawless desperado like me get away with anything."

His mocking voice spurred her on. Retribution was a bitch with a ticket book in hand. Ripping the second ticket from the book, she handed it to him with a flourish. "As you wish."

"You must not have been in uniform longer than a nano second, or you'd know you don't give tickets to other law enforcement personnel. It's not professional."

His jeering words burned her. She'd wanted to smack him with her ticket book.

Fortunately, her uncle had arrived just then. It hadn't taken the Sheriff long to get the picture. He'd tsk tsked a bit, taken the tickets from Hogan, and stuffed them in his pants pocket. She'd known her uncle would tear the tickets up. And he had.

Battle lines were drawn that day. When Hogan dropped by, he alternated between flirting outrageously and treating her like a child. She countered with whatever put-down fit the occasion. She was just counting the days until he packed up and went back to wherever he'd come from. Until then, her best defense was a good offense.

Still, it hurt that her best friend's mother seemed to side with Hogan. "Grace, you don't think it's right for Hogan to act as if he's above the law, do you?"

"Oh, pish. You're too young to be such a stickler for rules. Just once I'd like to see you thumb your nose at responsibility."

Grace's outburst surprised Susannah. "You make me sound like a, well, like a stick in the mud. A pompous stick in the mud at that."

"Kids should be kids, but you skipped over that and went straight to adulthood. You're too serious to moralize like this."

Surprised, Susannah asked, "Do I really sound so self-righteous?"

"No, hon, no." Grace smiled and held her thumb and index finger close together. "Well, maybe just a teeny bit. You gotta quit judging people and how they should or shouldn't act. And quit assuming responsibility for other people. You've been doing that since you were seven. It's time to live your own life. Let others live theirs. Good golly. Have some fun. Stop being as unyielding as a clod of sun-baked mud."

Grace's assessment hurt. A lot. Susannah blinked to dispel the sudden moisture that threatened to turn into tears. "I was just saying that Hogan, as a hotshot consultant, should set an example for others."

"It's not as if he robbed a bank. All he did was double park."

"That's illegal. He was impeding traffic flow. He could have caused a traffic jam."

"Oh, come on. Not only is this the smallest dang county in Texas, it's also got the smallest towns. The closest thing to a traffic jam here in Vance was when Cici Rojas's pet sheep got loose and rammed the plate glass window at the bank."

Susannah smiled at the memory. She'd been fifteen when the massively overweight Ruffles had made his great escape.

"Now that assault sheep impeded traffic when everybody jumped out of their cars to try to catch him. Would you have written tickets for all of them or joined in the effort to catch Ruffles? I'm just saying that sometimes there might be mitigating circumstances to consider."

Resignation seeped through Susannah. "You should have been a preacher the way you keep at a person until she admits her sins. All right. Maybe he wasn't impeding traffic. I'll even admit, I should have let him off with a verbal warning."

"You've got a bad case of Rookie Cop. Ever hear about pride going before a fall?"

The phone rang again. Susannah decided it was better that Grace thought she was a gung ho rookie than to have her learn the truth. She listened to Grace's side of the conversation, hoping someone, somewhere, needed a deputy. But the call was from another of Grace's friends. No escape. The only thing more boring than this job was the small town she couldn't escape from either. And the only thing more boring than that was her personal life.

In college, she'd had friends. And dates. Though she'd never let any relationship slide into the perilous waters of romance. She sure didn't have to worry about that here. Eligible men were as scarce as unbroken sand dollars on a Gulf coast beach. Not that she cared, she silently affirmed. She'd decided long ago that all she wanted was a career. She'd be a good cop. If her uncle would give her a chance. She didn't want romance, but a social life would be nice.

Unfortunately, her high school friends had deserted Vance for the bright lights of Houston or San Antonio. She didn't blame them. She'd have done the same if it hadn't been for her mother. Luke Orland, her high school boyfriend, was now a cop down in Murphy's Cove, but they hadn't hooked up when she'd come home. To Luke, women were divided into two groups. Those good for sexy fun and games, and those he'd never get between the sheets. She still fell into the latter category.

Boring job. Boring town. Boring personal life. The triple threat was about to do her in.

Maybe it would be more bearable when Paula came home. Grace's daughter taught at Sam Houston State, the college they'd both attended. When the summer semester ended next week, she'd be home. That might save her sanity.

To Susannah's annoyance, after Grace finished the latest call, she picked up where she'd left off. "You've always been a rule follower, but in law enforcement, professional courtesy is as important as protecting and serving. You don't write the Mayor's pal a ticket. Especially when the Mayor runs the richest town in the county. And you sure don't ticket a cruiser from another police department." Then Grace spoiled the whole effect of her professional courtesy lecture by giggling like a school girl. "There's easier ways to get a stud muffin like Hogan to notice you."

Horrified, Susannah stared at Grace. Surely the woman couldn't know. "I did not write him a ticket so he'd notice me. Even if the governor declares D. E. Hogan heaven's gift to womankind, I wouldn't be interested. He's not even what I'd call handsome."

"Well, Susy Q," a male voice drawled. "I'm mortally wounded. Are you sure you don't find me appealing?"

The Trouble With Love by Joan Reeves

Available at Ebook Retailers

Excerpt, Video Vixen by Elaine Raco Chase

Hands behind his head, Dan lounged back into the chair. "So you’re all nice. I wonder…." His dark gaze centered on her anger-flushed features; his voice was low, suggestive and goading. "Even you, Victoria Kirkland? Has today been one of your more memorable performances as Vixen Mallory?"

Fire-tipped fingers curved like elegant talons, reached out, gripped his tie, and turned it into a silk noose. Vikki hauled a startled Dan Falkner up from his chair stopping only when his face was nose-to-nose with hers. "Oh, no, Daniel Webster Falkner, I’m for real." Ruby lips spoke heated words against his mouth. "I’m the spice you’re looking for. The only thing you have to wonder about is how much seasoning you can handle." Vikki released her hold on his tie; her hands pushed against his shoulders and sent him sprawling backward. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to tangle and seduce another man."

Raw nerves fueled by pure adrenaline propelled Vikki to the sound stage. "Charlie," her breathing came in jerky gasps as she spoke to the bald, casually dressed director "Steve and I faxed this scene on Friday, and I’m really primed, so can we just go ahead and tape it?"

Charlie stared at her for a long moment, nodded and began issuing final taping orders as Vikki took her marked position on the office-furnished stage set and spoke to her co-star.

Shielded to the left of camera three, Dan quietly watched an unobstructed view of the actors. The scene was between Vixen Mallory and her husband's business partner. A spectacular verbal battle ensued between two stunning performers.

Dan became mesmerized by Vikki's every word, gesture and movement. The scene was choreographed so slickly that when the climax came and Vikki was the recipient of a slap that sent her head reeling in a powerful whiplash, Dan jumped toward the stage.

A grinning cameraman halted him and jerked a thumb toward the effects man, who produced the sound that made the blow so realistic. Uncurling his balled fist, Dan had to again remind himself this was all illusion.

With a sharp shake of his head, he moved toward the exit door. Looking back at the actress, Dan wondered if illusion and reality weren't one in the same. And if Vikki Kirkland was more Vixen than Victoria, why in hell had he tried to come to her rescue?

Video Vixen by Elaine Raco Chase

Available at Ebook Retailers

Excerpt, In the Garden of Seduction by Cynthia Wicklund

Book 2: The Garden Series

The last thing Cassandra had promised herself was to keep her distance from the marquess. Away from him she had resolve, but in his presence she lost sight of why she should avoid him. He wooed her with ardent words and hungry looks, and she responded like clay in his experienced hands. He must be gratified, Cassandra thought, by how easily he could manipulate her.

"Have you been waiting long?"

He came up behind her where she sat on the garden bench, and a thrill of fear seized her before she realized who it was. Her hand flew to her throat.

"You frightened me."

"I apologize," Lord Sutherfield said as he moved around the bench and sat next to her, shoulder to shoulder. "I was caught in a conversation and it took a moment to extricate myself. I was afraid you would not wait for me."

"I should not be here at all," she fretted, examining her hands where they lay in her lap.

He leaned forward, and from the corner of her eye she could see him studying her profile.

"I see. I was delayed just long enough for you to regret having come. I wish you wouldn't feel that way."

Cassandra looked at him directly. "An unmarried female of good character does not have a secret meeting with a gentleman, especially a gentleman whose reputation with the ladies is suspect. Why I always forget that when I'm in your company, I'll never know."

"I would not deliberately hurt you, Miss James." He snorted then as if he did not believe his own words. "I want to do the right thing, I really do, but your company affects me as well."

"It does?"

"Yes, indeed. Why does that surprise you?"

Cassandra stared at his handsome face, the shadows emphasizing his brow, the high cheekbones. He watched her with eyes that burned earnestly, and all at once she was consumed with the need to touch him.

"Do it!" he growled in a hoarse whisper.

He knew. Oh, he knew! Was her desire that obvious? Could he see her confusion, her fear, the attraction she fought?

"Do it," he urged her again.

Although she shook her head, Cassandra did not have the strength to resist his impassioned plea. Her hand moved to his lean jaw. Caressing the hollow of his cheek, she felt the hint of a stubble. His teeth clenched as he sucked in a harsh breath through flaring nostrils.

He grabbed her wrist and pressed his mouth into her palm, raising heated eyes to hers.

Cassandra could feel herself melting. She had no power in the face of such irresistible persuasion. The age-old barriers of self-protection were slipping away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. If the marquess continued to pursue her, before long repercussions would have no meaning. Until it was too late.

He was aware of the effect his lovemaking had on her, and she wanted to be indifferent to him. In desperation she tried to remember why she was here in the first place.

"Timothy," Cassandra said, slipping her hand from his grasp and drawing away from him.

"What? Oh, yes. . . ." The marquess sat, blinking as though clearing his vision. "I forgot," he said in a sheepish voice. An odd expression on his face indicated that he, also, had been moved by their exchange.

"You were going to tell me how our patient is doing." She sounded normal even though her insides continued to tremble.

"Timothy is healing quite nicely," Lord Sutherfield said in a businesslike fashion. "I'm worried about what we are to do with him once he is well. I know Mr. Bailey has been searching for his son."

"We can't return that child to his father."

"Do you have any suggestions?" His attitude did not encourage optimism that Timothy's problem could be solved easily.

"No. I hoped you had something in mind."

"Can't say I do, but I'll see what can be done."

"Would you?" Cassandra gazed at him imploringly. It was her turn to use wiles to gain what she wanted. She had to refrain from batting her lashes at him.

He chortled softly. "When you look at me like that, dear heart, I feel pushed to make the effort. But then you already knew that, didn't you?"

Unable to help herself, she laughed with him. "I've never met anyone like you."

"Is that a good thing?" the marquess asked tenderly.

Cassandra glanced at him before quickly looking away. "I haven't a clue, my lord. I'll have to let you know when I discover the answer."

Lord Sutherfield rose to his feet and took her by the hand. "Walk with me."

"Shouldn't I go back to the party? I'm sure to be missed," she said, allowing him to help her stand.

"What would you do if you were back in London and still living with Quintin James? Would a stroll in the garden be such a wicked thing?"

The question was a shrewd one. She didn't intend to let him know it, though.

"Perhaps not, but my father doesn't know you. I think if he were to meet you he'd be as cautious as my grandfather."

The marquess drew her arm through his and leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. "I'd like to think the caution is yours."

"That makes no sense at all," she said impatiently.

"It does if it is you rather than me you do not trust."

Lord Sutherfield's warm breath drifted down her neck, causing her skin to prickle with excitement. Just when she had herself in check, he began the onslaught anew. Her body responded as it always did when his tone turned suggestive.

Ambling down the winding path, they moved away from the safety of the house. The doors to the parlor had been thrown open to the main garden, and the voices of those guests still partying could be heard drifting from inside. If she were taking her little walk with the marquess right outside those doors, it would probably be considered completely respectable.

They came upon a majestic oak looming out of the darkness at the end of the path, its branches spanning nearly thirty feet. Moonlight seeped through the aged limbs, splintered patches of illumination creating a fey realm beneath the sprawling canopy of the tree. The gauze of Cassandra's dress sparkled like dozens of tiny, glowing night beetles in the dimness. Just like a sprite, she reflected whimsically, touched by the enchantment of the balmy evening.

All at once, she wanted to make the most of the magical moment. Did she want the marquess to kiss her? Yes, she thought, perhaps she did. She liked it when he kissed her, although she had spent a lot of time denying that fact, and maybe now she would kiss him back.

Several steps in front of Lord Sutherfield, she whisked around to face him. With her hands clasped behind her back, she leaned coquettishly against the massive trunk of the tree. His expression was drawn tight with desire as he moved closer, and an intoxicating power welled within her. How the next few minutes went were hers alone to decide. Unless he were a cad. Her instincts denied that possibility. She tilted her head, smiling faintly at him.

His gaze sharpened. "This is a dangerous game, Miss James. Are you certain you wish to play so deep?"

In the Garden of Seduction by Cynthia Wicklund

Available at Ebook Retailers

Excerpt, Jane I'm-Still-Single Jones by Joan Reeves

When she found the person responsible for this, she would make them pay. Big time!

Jane Jones stared at the plastic-encased name tag in her right hand. No way would she wear this! She wasn't some boy-crazy teenager! Or a desperate woman on the make! She was a successful businesswoman. She'd even been called one of "the new sophisticates" in a New York Times column! But did that matter in Vernon, Louisiana? Heck no!

So what if she still wasn't married? It shouldn't matter to anyone, with the possible exception of her mother, that she was still flying solo through life. Jane's eyes narrowed. Which of her former classmates was responsible for this embarrassment?

"Jane Louise Jones! Quit staring at that name badge as if it were a water moccasin from Pine Slough and put it on."

Jane's focus shifted from the detestable piece of plastic to the woman who'd handed her the reunion packet. Her eyes widened in dismay. Belatedly, she recognized her high school nemesis presiding at the reception table. Of all people, why did it have to be Earleen Mushmak?

The teacher's thin lips stretched in a grimace that almost resembled a smile. "Welcome to your ten-year high school reunion, Jane Louise." She cocked her head to the side as if in deep thought. Then she said, "That's very daring of you to wear red, dear. Most redheads would think better of it."

Some high school traumas never die, Jane thought. This one looked as if she hadn't aged a day.

"Thank you, Miss Mushmak," Jane murmured, trying hard to remember that she was a grown woman, not some high school kid unused to dealing with difficult people.

Often, Jane joked with her family about traveling through a time warp to get from New York to her sleepy hometown tucked away in the rolling hills of north Louisiana. But, looking at the woman who had taught at the local high school since before Jane was born, she half-believed it was true.

Her former teacher hadn't changed a bit. Unfortunately. The years appeared to have had no softening effect on the woman who struck fear into the heart of every freshman entering Vernon High School. Same straggly bun. Same steel-rimmed granny glasses. Same piercing gray eyes that made you believe she had x-ray vision.

The bossy old maid had never liked her, Jane thought resentfully, nor any of her other students except one. And thinking about him only increased Jane's ire. She fingered the name tag and took a deep breath. She'd laugh and toss it back on the table. They could darn well give her a blank one. Then she'd write her own inscription next to her name.

"Did you hear me, Jane Louise?" Miss Mushmak demanded, pushing her glasses down on her nose and peering over them.

The double moniker rubbed Jane the wrong way. In New York, she was J. L. Jones, owner of JLJ Design. Here, she was meek little Jane Louise.

"Jane Louise?" Miss Mushmak repeated, with more snap to her tone this time. The woman, who'd tried her best to hammer into Jane's decidedly un-mathematical brain various forms of math, from her freshman to her senior years, stared at her just as she'd done back in high school.

Jane reacted like the new sophisticate she was. She squirmed and replied meekly, "Yes, Miss Mushmak."

"Good. Don't dawdle. Step aside to pin on your name tag."

"Yes, Miss Mushmak." She'd step aside, but she darn well wasn't going to wear the name tag.

Coward, she scolded herself, even as she moved away from the reception table. Ten years after graduation, and she was still terrified of the woman. It made no sense. What could Miss Mushmak do now? Flunk her again?

Her gesture of defiance in not pinning the nametag on might be small, but it lifted her spirits. Looking around she saw refreshments set up on gold crepe paper-covered tables in the center of the large room that served as cafeteria and auditorium for the old school.

Maybe some caffeine would short circuit the tension headache that threatened at the base of her neck. Jane had taken only a few steps when someone grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"Amber!" Jane's scowl changed to a grin. She grabbed her best friend from high school and hugged her. Amber squealed and giggled.

Even at twenty-eight, Amber Hicks. No, Amber Hicks Chalmers, Jane mentally corrected. Amber still couldn't control her excitement. Same old Amber, Jane thought fondly, stepping back to look at her friend.

"Oh, Janie, I can't believe you really came." Amber jumped up and down like a child of six rather than like a mother of a six-year-old. She'd been doing that crazy little jig since she and Jane had played together in kindergarten.

"What do you mean? You twisted my arm, begged, pleaded, and then sicced the town on me. It's bad enough to have my parents badger me, but the Ladies Bridge Club too? With all that, how could I possibly miss this momentous occasion?"

"Hey, don't give me that New York attitude. No boredom allowed. This is our ten year reunion! Aren't you excited?"

"Obviously, not as much as you."

"It'll be fun. You won't be sorry you came," Amber vowed.

Jane sighed. "I'm already sorry. To think I gave up the first weekend in June to come here and be humiliated."

"What do you mean humiliated?" Amber frowned.

Jane held up the name tag. "Look at this."

"What's wrong with it?" Amber looked affronted. "I spent a lot of time designing those."

"Oh, Amber. Don't tell me you're responsible for this. How could you do this to me?" Jane shook her head in dismay. "Brought low by my best friend!"

"Well, you said you lacked a love life. I thought this would help."

"I said I had a lackluster love life," Jane corrected. "There's a difference." She rolled her shoulders to loosen the tension. "Now I really need some caffeine and sugar. You just changed the status of my headache from passive to active."

"What are you complaining about?" Amber grabbed the pin from Jane's hand and, ignoring her protests, fastened it to the right lapel of Jane's red linen blazer. "There."

Amber stepped back and studied the name tag. "I was worried the print wasn't large enough to easily read, but it's good."

Jane looked down at her chest. "You can probably read it from Mars," she muttered. "Without a telescope."

"Quit grumbling and come on." Amber took her arm and guided her to the refreshments. "Your blood sugar must be low. You always get cranky when you're hungry."

"I'm not cranky," Jane protested. Nevertheless, she picked up a gold paper plate and a black napkin. There must be something symbolic in this, she decided, as she followed Amber around the table. She'd been following Amber's lead since they were kids. Amber was the impulsive adventurer who leaped right into the middle of life, wanting to be surprised, while Jane was the careful analyst who always looked before leaping. Well, almost always, Jane mentally corrected.

"You've got to try these cookies. I made them from Aunt Judy's recipe." Amber placed two golden brown mounds studded with chunks of pecan, chocolate, and raisins on Jane's plate.

Jane shook her head in amazement. "I've seen you in the kitchen, but I still can't get used to the idea that you're a domestic goddess." Jane bit into the cooky. She rolled her eyes and moaned in delight. "No wonder Steve married you a week after he met you."

"I didn't know how to boil water when I met Steve. Believe me, that was not what captured my husband." Amber smiled archly.

"Ah, sex reared its lusty head, huh?" Jane took another bite.

"Let's just say that women who think the way to a man's heart is through his stomach don't know much about anatomy."

That comment startled a laugh from Jane. "Amber, you're terrible."

"Nope. I'm incorrigibly honest."

"Whatever you say." Jane finished the cooky. "These are fantastic. How do you stay so thin when you cook like this?"

"Hey, you try running after a six-year-old bundle of energy masquerading as a boy. You'd be skinny too. Not that you're fat," Amber added with a grin. "Go grab a couple of chairs before they're all taken, and I'll get us two coffees."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're bossier than ever?"

"Yep. My husband. Practically every day. Still drink your coffee black?" At Jane's nod, she shooed her with both hands. "Go save our seats."

Jane complied. The reunion was a great excuse to catch up with Amber. Some of Jane's tension fell away, leaving her feeling more relaxed than since she'd arrived. Maybe the weekend wouldn't be so bad after all.

On the other side of the room, folding chairs had been set up in semi-circular rows beneath the old-fashioned high windows.

"It's safe to say that there's plenty of chairs to go around," Jane said over her shoulder. "The reunion hasn't exactly drawn a crowd."

"Hey, this is just registration." Amber came up behind her. "Wait until later. Nearly everyone responded to the seventy invitations we mailed." She handed Jane a white foam cup.

"You're kidding." Jane accepted the steaming coffee. "You told me that not everyone would attend the reunion." That had been the deciding factor in her own acceptance of the invitation. Before she could question Amber further, her friend jumped up.

Setting her plate and cup on the chair next to her, Amber said, "Let me get you some more cookies."

"I haven't finished these," Jane protested, but Amber was already rushing away. Jane watched as her friend seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to select a few cookies. She frowned. What was going on here? When she returned, Jane asked again about the reunion attendance.

"Oh, uh, well, I guess I did say the attendance would be light," Amber stammered. "But at the last minute, I, that is, the reunion committee, received several calls. Apparently, a lot of people changed their mind." She stuffed a cooky nearly whole into her mouth.

"Like who?" Jane asked, feeling the muscles at the back of her neck clench tighter.

Amber chewed and pointed at her mouth, earning another frown from Jane. Surely Amber would have told her if he had decided to come. After all, he was the most famous alumnus the small high school could boast. He'd gone into the world and made millions, or at least that's what the town gossips maintained. Jane had never seen his name in the news or in the papers. Not that she had looked. Much. Of course, that didn't mean anything. There were more wealthy men and women who weren't household names than the other way around.

When Amber had swallowed, Jane persisted. "Like who?"

"Oh, just people. You know, those of us who stayed in town will be here with spouses in tow. Though I hope no one brings their kids. My mom is taking little Stevie to the lake for the weekend." Amber shrugged and concluded weakly, "That's all I meant by a good turnout. Reunions are always popular. Most kids who deserted their hometown for the bright lights of the big city like the chance to reconnect with high school friends."

Jane broke a cooky in half and absently crumbled it as she studied her friend. Amber's explanation was a little too pat.

"You know how it is in a small town." Amber laughed. "Anything out of the ordinary draws a crowd. This is high class entertainment for us local yokels." Amber added a packet of artificial sweetener and a tiny tub of cream to her coffee then stirred with a plastic spoon. "Even Steve is looking forward to coming," she rattled on, "and you know what he thinks about the social life here."

"Yeah, I guess a guy like Steve, raised in the mean streets of Beverly Hills finds small town entertainment a bit tame," Jane said, careful not to crack a smile.

"Mean streets?" Amber giggled. "I'll have to tell that to Steve."

Jane resolved not to say any more about the whole matter. She could always steal quietly away if he showed up.

"You should have seen Steve's ten-year reunion a couple of years ago. I swear, I think everyone, including husbands, wives, and children, showed up. We ran out of food after the first hour, when I thought there was enough to feed an army."

"Sounds as if his school was a lot bigger than ours."

"There were about six hundred in his graduating class."

"That's a far cry from our seventy-three."

"I could teach you how to make these cookies," Amber offered. "They're easy."

"You're really into this domestic thing, aren't you?" Jane stared a bit wistfully at her friend, wondering what it was like to be a stay-at-home mom, baking cookies and making name tags for some committee or other.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I love my life. Sometimes, though, I do wonder what it would be like to live yours. It seems so exciting, living in the Big Apple. Who would ever have thought that you'd become a famous textile designer. That's far out."

"It's not that exciting. And I don't think you could call me famous. No one knows who I am except for those in the industry." Jane shrugged. "My life's okay, I guess."

Only to Amber would she confess her growing dissatisfaction. She'd fought so hard for her independence that she didn't want to admit to anyone that her life wasn't perfect.

"When I first went to art school in New York, I thrived on the excitement of the city. It was new and completely different from anything I'd ever known. There was so much to see and do and learn that I didn't have time to think about, uh, other things." Jane's eyes flitted away. "About anything else. But now?" Her voice cracked. "I'll tell you something if you promise not to tell anyone else."

Amber made a crossing motion over her heart and a zipping motion over her lips.

"Lately, I find myself thinking about a home and children. And when I do, I don't visualize raising a child in my loft in the city. I think of mom and dad's house here where I grew up. The tree house in the backyard. The swing on the front porch. I never knew how much I loved this place until I left."

"Sounds as if the old biological clock has started to make itself known," Amber said, nodding. "I can understand your wanting the traditional family, but you didn't say anything about a husband. Don't you imagine a man as the father of those children."

Jane's shoulders drooped. "That's the trouble. I can't see any man in that picture."

Well, that wasn't precisely true. She did see one man's face, but he had to be the result of a case of arrested juvenile imagination. He would never do. Even if she knew where he was.

"So you've begun to think about something other than career?" Amber grinned. "I must say, better late than never."

"Fat lot of good it does me," Jane grumbled. "I'm beginning to wonder if I'll end up alone. Statistics aren't exactly in my favor." She dropped the remainder of the cooky she held onto the plate. Her appetite had departed.

"I try to convince my mother and grandmother that I'm perfectly happy with my life, but I guess I'm not, or I wouldn't be confessing my deep dark secret to you." Jane scowled. "And if you breathe a word of this, I'll never speak to you again."

"I won't tell anyone. Go ahead and pretend to be Ms. Single Success to your heart's content. Now, as for thinking there's no man for you, don't be ridiculous. There's a wonderful guy out there just waiting for you," Amber said loyally.

Jane smiled. "Thanks, you're a pal, but in another forty years, I might be an old maid like Earleen Mushmak, dried up and as sour as one of Granny's homemade pickles."

Amber choked on her coffee. "Please. Don't say things like that when I have a full mouth."

"You don't think that's a possibility?"

"Somehow, Janie, I can't picture that short crop of auburn curls as a straggly gray bun. And I bet you wouldn't be caught dead in an ankle-length, flowered dress or no-nonsense shoes."

"Well, that part is certainly true." Jane smoothed her hands down the short red skirt. She looked at her feet arched by the red high pumps.

"You're not even thirty yet. You've got plenty of time to find the man of your dreams," Amber said. "All it takes is a chance encounter." She lifted her coffee cup in a salute. "Here's to chance encounters."

"I'll drink to that," Jane said, clicking her cup to Amber's. The first swallow of coffee reminded her that people in Louisiana tended to make their coffee rather strong. This batch was stout enough to keep Sleeping Beauty awake despite the wicked witch's curse.

"Maybe you'll get lucky this weekend."

"I don't think that's a possibility." Jane laughed at the idea. "I can't think of any of my former class mates who could be called the man of my dreams."

"Are you sure about that?" Amber asked, opening her eyes wide. "Wasn't there a certain boy?"

Jane's suspicions rose anew. She'd shared everything with Amber from the time they were toddlers. Well, practically everything. He had been her secret. "I don't know what you mean." She hoped her fair skin wouldn't give her away with another blush.

"Well, just in case you do meet some wonderful guy, he'll be able to tell immediately that you're available, thanks to your specially designed name tag," Amber crowed.

Jane groaned. "Is that why I'm wearing this?" She grabbed her lapel and shook it. "This is an embarrassment."

"That is not embarrassing. That's a stamped work of art. I even used the school colors of black and gold. And let me tell you, it wasn't easy coming up with a one-liner to put on that many name tags!"

"Why didn't you just put my name on it and leave it at that? Or say I own my own design business. Anything but this."

"But that wouldn't have accomplished anything. Come on, be cool. This will be a fun weekend." Hands on hips, she said, "You're a businesswoman. You know the value of advertising."

"Is that what this thing on my chest is supposed to be? A walking ad? To sell me?"

"Kind of. At least all the single guys will know you're available. You might renew an old friendship, and it could turn into something romantic."

"Sure. That makes sense. And we could date each other on the weekend. Right? We'd alternate dates in New York and dates here!"

"Don't be sarcastic, Janie. You don't know what will happen this weekend. It could be something totally surprising."

"Amber Chalmers, it's bad enough when my family gets on my case about not being married. As if an unmarried female of twenty-eight was somehow unnatural. Maybe it is in Louisiana, but not in New York."

"Since you just confessed your deep dark secret to me, it's too late for you to play the outraged feminist now," Amber said dryly.

"I was suffering from cooky poisoning earlier," Jane grumbled. "I am an outraged feminist."

Amber's eyes narrowed. "You can try that Gloria Steinem speech on your mother and granny, but it won't wash with me, and I bet it goes in their right ears and out their left."

"You're right. But at least it's a good speech. If I say it enough times, maybe I'll begin to believe it. But if you say otherwise, I'll tell Steve how you used to practice French kissing on your Cabbage Patch doll."

"Oh, that's low. You wouldn't!"

"Don't push me. I'm desperate. With my sisters married, and still working, I have to listen all the time about how the two of them successfully balance marriage and a career. As if I'd ever been offered that opportunity."

"So if the younger sisters can do it, so can you?" Amber asked.

"Yeah. That's about the size of it, but the older I get, the harder it is to find a good prospect."

"I know you've had relationships," Amber said.

"I can count my so-called serious relationships on my index fingers." She'd come close, but something always held her back, kept her aloof from the men who sought to woo her. She could honestly say there'd never been a serious romance in her entire life unless you counted her secret fling in high school. And she didn't count that. She tried not to even think about it. Except sometimes. Late at night. That's when he sneaked into her dreams.

"Jane Louise! You don't look a day older," a woman squealed, interrupting her solemn thoughts.

Jane certainly hoped she looked different. After all, she'd paid a small fortune for the hair style she currently wore not to mention the red linen suit, royal blue silk tank, and red patent shoes. She smiled uncertainly at the woman. She couldn't place her. The voice was familiar, but she didn't recognize the spiky blond hair and the expensive tanned, toned body, nor the exquisitely made-up face.

"It's me. Felicia Banks!"

Jane's mouth dropped. "Felicia?" This woman didn't look anything like her chubby brunette friend from high school. She and Amber echoed in unison, "Felicia Banks?"

"Of course, who else?" The woman grabbed her and hugged her within an inch of her life.

Jane gasped for breath. "My goodness but you're strong. I mean, you look great." Amber chimed in on that compliment.

"Toned, tight, and terrific," Jane read Felicia's name tag. "Good tag. It certainly fits."

Felicia read Jane's and burst into laughter. "Yours is too funny."

"Yeah. Too funny." Jane gave Amber a sour look.

"Felicia, what on earth happened to you?" Amber asked. "I mean, I haven't seen you since graduation. You look terrific. How did it happen?"

Felicia laughed then proudly told them about her chain of fitness salons in Texas.

The three women gave brief versions of the past ten years. Jane found herself enjoying the conversation.

"So you're a hot shot designer," Felicia said. "I'm impressed. But, how on earth do you stand it in New York?"

"I like it there," Jane said. For several minutes, she defended her adopted city. "I could well ask how Amber stands it in Vernon. Or you, Felicia in Houston. That's not exactly a small village. Isn't it the third or fourth largest city in the United States now?"

"Something like that or so they claim," Felicia said.

"It's all in what you get used to," Jane summed up.

"Well, we might both be big city girls now, but," she pointed at Jane's name tag, "I see we've both come back to our hometown to go husband-hunting."

"I am not husband hunting!" Jane protested. She was mortified. She'd known everyone would think the same thing when they read the stupid tag. "This was Amber's idea."

"Hey, if you're not looking for a man, that's fine with me. I only came because I'd heard that eight of the boys from our graduating class are single. And I'm hoping they're all going to be here."

Amber laughed. "Felicia, don't tell me you're still as boy-crazy as you were in high school?"

"Hey, I'm still the same simple girl. The only difference is that now I have the face and the body to compete with you cheerleader types," Felicia answered.

"Did you have anyone particular in mind?" Jane asked, laughing.

"I'm open to any and all prospects. You see, I tend to believe that, like wine, people improve with age. I mean. Look at me." Felicia twirled. "By this age, men will have made their mark in the world so the struggle years are out of the way. I can't wait to see the guys."

"You've really given this some thought," Amber said, sounding impressed.

"Sure have. I'm looking for Mr. Felicia Banks number three."

"Number three!" Amber looked stunned. "I think I'd give up if I were a two-time loser in matrimony." As soon as the words were out, she clapped her hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, Felicia."

"Hey, don't worry about it. And, no, you wouldn't give up either," Felicia replied, not seeming offended at all by Amber's less than flattering remark. "I don't mind telling you my number one contender for Number Three will be here this weekend."

"Who might that be?" Jane asked, amused by her friend's refreshing honesty.

"Why, who else but the richest man that ever hailed from Vernon, Louisiana?" Felicia replied smugly.

Amber jumped to her feet. "Janie, I need to go to the restroom. Why don't you come with me?"

"Who do you mean?" Jane asked, alarmed.

"Let's go now, Janie." Amber tugged Jane's arm.

"My goodness, Jane Louise, haven't you heard? Morgan Sherwood's going to be here. Along with his entourage I expect."

Jane felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her body. She turned accusing eyes on Amber.

"Did I forget to tell you, Janie?" Amber asked, twisting her fingers in distress.

"Yes, as a matter of fact you did." Jane tried to keep her voice calm. She'd make some kind of excuse and leave, she thought. No way would she spend three days, and nights, in the company of Morgan Sherwood! She felt faint at the thought.

Somewhere in the room, she heard something heavy slam to the floor. A muffled exclamation and hurried footsteps penetrated her shock, but she couldn't turn to see what the commotion was.

"I guess we don't have to flip a coin to see who gets Morgan then?" Felicia asked.

"Certainly not. You're welcome to the man," Jane said icily. She would die before she'd allow anyone to think she had ever been smitten with the class genius. "In fact, I hope his money makes up for his looks because he certainly wasn't much in high school. I doubt that's changed."

"Jane Louise!" Amber said sharply. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"I shouldn't? I'm just speaking the truth?" Jane's voice rose, unaware that the room had fallen silent.

Bent on making sure no one thought she was manhunting, or less than happy with her life, as implied by the stupid name tag, she continued. "I'm not looking for a husband. I'm perfectly happy in my unmarried state, and I wish everyone in this town would realize that. I have the freedom to come and go as I please without answering to a man. And I support myself. I don't need a husband for that. So why would I want one? You can have the milk without buying the cow, if you get my drift. Men knew that for years before we women discovered that fact."

Felicia looked at her rather oddly. "So you don't think Morgan is a good catch?"

Jane forced a laugh. "I was not impressed by him ten years ago so why should I change my mind just because he's acquired a few bucks in the bank."

"Actually, that's ten million in stocks, bonds, precious metals, and bucks in the bank," a deep voice behind her corrected.

Jane whirled and came face to face with a dark-haired man who towered over her. His mouth stretched in a smile that revealed dazzling white teeth. A silly thought flitted through her stunned brain.

The better to eat you with, my dear.

Jane suppressed the hysterical giggle that bubbled upward. He wasn't the big bad wolf, but she felt a lot like Little Red Riding Hood at the moment. She stared into his intensely blue eyes. Eyes as unfathomable and as cold as the north Atlantic.

"Morgan!" Jane's voice was a whisper, yet, in the suddenly silent auditorium, it rang out. Two things about Morgan Sherwood hadn't changed. His voice and his eyes.

"Hello, Jane." His eyes looked intently into hers.

Make that three things that hadn't changed, she thought, with the way she felt when he said her name being the third. She shivered and remained silent.

Morgan's smile widened, making her think again of the wolf that devoured Grandma. It wasn't a smile, Jane thought dizzily. It was a smirk. A smug, macho smirk aimed at her. He looked pointedly at her name tag.

"Jane I'm still single Jones," he read. "With a personality like yours, that's understandable."

Jane I'm-Still-Single Jones by Joan Reeves

Coming Soon To Ebooks

Amusing Book and Author Trivia

I'm a trivia collector. Once, I had file folders bursting with amusing items about authors, writing, and books. Of course, that meant I occasionally had to clean out the clutter. The cleaning-out always took a while since I would have to read and chuckle as I de-cluttered.

Now, with computer files, I never have to throw away the odd tidbit since no physical clutter exists. The digital world is wonderful for us pack rats. We can save everything until our hard drives explode.

Here are a few facts I thought you readers might enjoy. Some could probably be listed under the sub-heading: strange but true!

* * *

In the last seven years of his life, Thomas Hardy took no baths. (Yuk! I imagine everyone wanted him Far from the Madding Crowd!)

John Grisham received twenty-eight rejections for A Time to Kill.

Jonathan Swift, author of Gulliver's Travels, went a full year without speaking to anyone.

David Cornwell is the real name of spy novelist John Le Carre.

Lord Byron set his hair in curlers at night. (And he was a great lover!)

Mary Higgins Clark had her first short story rejected forty times. (Of course that means there were at least forty markets for short fiction then! Now, ebook publishing has breathed new life into short fiction.)

Charles Dickens detested being called Grandpa.

William Golding received twenty-one rejections for Lord of the Flies.

Frank was the real first name of Mickey Spillane. (Did he think Mickey sounded like a tough guy?)

Pearl Buck received 14 rejections on the Good Earth.

George Bernard Shaw had his first five novels rejected.

Teodor Josef Konrad Korzeniowski is the real name of Joseph Conrad, author of Heart of Darkness among others. (A name like that would lead to serious writer's cramp at book signings!)

L. M. Olenhewitz is Jules Verne.

Marguerite Johnson is Maya Angelou.

Then there is the admiration authors have for other authors.

Harold Robbins on Ernest Hemingway: "Hemingway is a jerk."

Tolstoy on Nietzsche: "Nietzsche was stupid and abnormal."

Truman Capote had less than admiration for just about everyone so I won't single out an individual for his caustic comments.

I'll finish up with Kurt Vonnegut on himself: "I'd rather have written Cheers than anything I've written."

The End

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Meet Joan Reeves

Excerpt, The Trouble With Love by Joan Reeves

Excerpt, Video Vixen by Elaine Raco Chase

Excerpt, In the Garden of Seduction by Cynthia Wicklund

Excerpt, Jane I'm-Still-Single Jones by Joan Reeves

Amusing Book and Author Trivia