This Heart Of Mine

Chapter 15

After her dip in the lake, Molly showered and changed, then found herself walking out to the porch and gazing toward the table where she'd left the sack of art supplies she'd bought in town that morning. It was long past time to start work on the drawings.

Instead of settling at the table, however, she sat on the glider and picked up the pad she'd used yesterday to sketch Daphne diving off the cliff. She gazed off into the distance. Finally she began to write.

"Mrs. Mallard is building a summer camp on the other side of Nightingale Woods," Daphne announced one afternoon to Benny, Melissa, Celia the Hen, and Benny's pal Corky the Raccoon. "And we all get to go!"

"I don't like summer camp," Benny grumbled.

"Can I wear my movie-star sunglasses?" Melissa asked.

"What if it rains?" Celia clucked.

By the time Molly set aside the notepad, she'd written the beginning of Daphne Goes to Summer Camp. Never mind that she'd barely covered two pages, and never mind that her brain might dry up at any minute or that her publisher wouldn't buy this book until she did what they wanted to Daphne Takes a Tumble. At least she'd written, and for now she was happy.

The scent of lemon furniture polish greeted her as she walked into the B &B. The rugs had been vacuumed, the windows gleamed, and the tea table in the sitting room held a stack of Dresden rose china dessert plates with matching cups and saucers. Kevin's strategy of keeping the lovers separated until they'd finished their work seemed to be effective.

Amy emerged from the back with a pile of fresh white towels and took in the inexpensive canary-yellow sundress Molly had customized with four rows of colorful ribbon trim at the hem. "Wow! You look really cool. Nice makeup. I bet this'll get Kevin's attention."

"I'm not trying to get Kevin's attention."

Amy caressed the luscious little bruise at the base of her throat. "I've got this new perfume in my purse. It drives Troy nuts if I dab a little on my… well, you know. Do you want to borrow some?"

Molly avoided strangling her by making a dash for the kitchen.

It was too early to put out the apricot scones and oatmeal-butterscotch bread she'd made that morning, so she picked up her lovey and settled down with him on one of the kitchen chairs near the bay window. He tucked his topknot under her chin and rested his paw on her arm. She drew him closer. "Do you like it here as much as I do, pooch?"

He gave her an affirmative lick.

She gazed down the sloping yard toward the lake. These past few days in what she now thought of as Nightingale Woods had brought her back to life. She stroked Roo's warm belly and admitted that being with Kevin was a big part of it.

He was stubborn and cocky-maddening beyond belief-but he'd made her feel alive again.

For all his talk about how smart she was, he didn't have any trouble keeping up with her. Like a few other jocks she knew-Dan sprang to mind, along with Cal Bonner and Bobby Tom Denton-Kevin's passion for athletics ran side by side with a keen intellect that his doofus behavior couldn't hide.

Not that she'd ever compare Kevin with Dan. Look at the way Dan loved dogs, for example. And kids. And most of all, look at the way Dan loved Phoebe.

She sighed again and let her gaze wander toward the gardens in the back, where Troy had finally cleared away the winter debris. The lilacs were in bloom, and a few irises displayed their purple ruffles, while a peony bush prepared to open.

A flicker of movement caught Molly's eye, and she saw Lilly sitting off to the side on an iron bench. At first Molly thought she was reading, but then she realized she was sewing instead. She thought about Lilly's coolness toward her and wondered if she were reacting personally or to the bad publicity from the wedding?… the Chicago Stars football heiress who dabbles in writing children's books… Molly hesitated, then rose and let herself out the back door.

Lilly sat near a small herb garden. Molly found it odd that someone who played the diva so convincingly hadn't objected to being stuck away in an attic. And despite that Armani sweater tossed so casually around her shoulders, she seemed remarkably content simply sitting by an overgrown garden and sewing. She was a puzzle. It was hard for Molly to warm up to someone who was so cold to her, but she couldn't quite dislike Lilly and not just because of her old affection for Lace, Inc. It took courage to stick around in the face of Kevin's hostility.

Marmie lay at Lilly's feet next to a large sewing basket. Roo ignored the cat to trot over and greet her owner, who leaned down to pat him. Molly realized she was working on a piece of a quilt, but it didn't look like anything she'd ever seen. The design wasn't a neatly arranged geometric, but a subtly shaded medley of curves and swirls in various patterns and shades of green, with touches of lavender and a surprising dab of sky blue.

"That's beautiful. I didn't know you were an artist."

The familiar hostility that formed in Lilly's eyes gave the summer afternoon a January chill. "This is just a hobby."

Molly decided to ignore the freeze-out. "You're very good. What's it going to be?"

"Probably a real quilt," she said reluctantly. "Usually I do smaller pieces like pillows, but this garden seems to demand something more dramatic."

"You're doing a quilt of the garden?"

Lilly's inherent good manners forced her to respond. "Just the herb garden. I started experimenting with it yesterday."

"Do you work from a drawing?"

Lilly shook her head, attempting to put an end to the conversation. Molly considered letting her do it, but she didn't want to. "How can you make something this complicated without a drawing?"

Lilly took her time responding. "I start putting scraps together that appeal to me, and then I pull out my scissors and see what happens. Sometimes the results are disastrous."

Molly understood. She created from bits and pieces, too-a few lines of dialogue, random sketches. She never knew what her books were about until she was well into them. "Where do you get your fabrics?"

Roo had propped his chin on one of Lilly's pricey Kate Spade sandals, but Molly's persistence seemed to bother her more. "I always have a box of scraps in my trunk," she said brusquely. "I buy a lot of remnants, but this project needs fabrics with some history. I'll probably try to find an antique store that sells vintage clothing."

Molly gazed back at the herb garden. "Tell me what you see."

She expected a rebuff, but, again, Lilly's good manners won out. "I was drawn to the lavender first. It's one of my favorite plants. And I love the silver of that sage behind it." Lilly's enthusiasm for her project began to overcome her personal dislike. "The spearmint needs to be weeded out. It's greedy, and it'll take over. That little tuft of thyme is fighting to survive against it."

"Which one is the thyme?"

"Those tiny leaves. It's vulnerable now, but it can be as aggressive as spearmint. It just goes about it more subtly." Lilly lifted her eyes, and her gaze held Molly's for a moment.

Molly got the message. "You think the thyme and I have something in common?"

"Do you?" she asked coolly.

"I have a lot of faults, but subtlety isn't one of them."

"I suppose that remains to be seen."

Molly wandered to the edge of the garden. "I'm trying hard to dislike you as much as you seem to dislike me, but it's tough. You were my heroine when I was a little girl."

"How nice." Icicles dripped.

"Besides, you like my dog. And I have a feeling that your attitude has less to do with my personality than it has to do with your concerns about my marriage."

Lilly stiffened.

Molly decided she had nothing to lose by being blunt. "I know about your real relationship with Kevin."

Lilly's fingers stalled on her needle. "I'm surprised he told you. Maida said he never spoke about it."

"He didn't. I guessed."

"You're very astute."

"You've taken a long time to come see him."

"After abandoning him, you mean?" Her voice had a bitter edge.

"I didn't say that."

"You were thinking it. What kind of woman abandons her child then tries to worm her way back into his life?"

Molly spoke carefully. "I doubt that you abandoned him. You seem to have found him a good home."

She gazed at the garden, but Molly suspected the peace she'd felt here earlier had vanished. "Maida and John had always wanted a child, and they loved him from the day he was born. But as torturous as it was to make my decision, I still gave him up too easily."

"Hey, Molly!"

Lilly tensed as Kevin came around the corner with Marmie lolling fat and happy in his arms. He stopped abruptly when he saw Lilly, and, as Molly watched, the charmer gave way to a hard-eyed man with a grudge.

He approached Molly as if she were alone in the garden. "Somebody let her out."

"I did," Lilly said. "She was with me until a few minutes ago. She must have heard you coming."

"This is your cat?"

"Yes."

He put her on the ground, almost as if she'd gone radioactive, then turned to walk away.

Lilly came up off the bench. Molly saw something both desperate and touching in her expression. "Do you want to know about your father?" Lilly blurted out.

Kevin stiffened. Molly's heart went out to him as she thought of all the questions she'd had over the years about her own mother. Slowly he turned.

Lilly clutched her hands. She sounded breathless, as if she'd just run a long distance. "His name was Dooley Price. I don't think that was his real first name, but it was all I knew. He was eighteen, a tall, skinny farm kid from Oklahoma. We met at the bus station the day we arrived in L.A." She drank in Kevin's face. "His hair was as light as yours, but his features were broader. You look more like me." She dipped her head. "I'm sure you don't want to hear that. Dooley was athletic. He'd ridden in rodeos-earned some prize money, I think-and he was convinced he could get rich doing stunts in the movies. I don't remember any more about him-another black mark you can chalk up against me. I think he smoked Marlboros and loved candy bars, but it was a long time ago, and that could have been someone else. We'd broken up by the time I discovered I was pregnant, and I didn't know how to find him." She paused and seemed to brace herself. "A few years later I read in the paper that he'd been killed doing some kind of stunt with a car."

Kevin's expression remained stony. He wouldn't let anyone see that this meant anything to him. Oh, Molly understood all about that.

Roo was sensitive to people's distress. He got up and rubbed against Kevin's ankles.

"Do you have a picture of him?" Molly asked because she knew Kevin wouldn't. The only photograph she had of her mother was her most treasured possession.

Lilly made a helpless gesture and shook her head. "We were only kids-two screwed-up teenagers. Kevin, I'm sorry."

He regarded her coldly. "There's no place for you in my life. I don't know how I can make that any clearer. I want you to leave."

"I know you do."

Both animals got up and followed him as he walked away.

Lilly's eyes glistened with fierce tears as she spun on Molly. "I'm not leaving!"

"I don't think you should," Molly replied.

Their eyes locked, and Molly thought she saw a faint crack forming in the wall between them.

Half an hour later, as Molly slipped the last of her apricot scones into a wicker basket, Amy appeared to announce that she and Troy would be staying in the upstairs bedroom Kevin had abandoned when he'd moved into Molly's cottage. "Somebody has to sleep here at night," Amy explained, "and Kevin said he'd pay us extra to do it. Isn't that cool?"

"That's great."

"I mean, we won't be able to make noise, but-"

"Get the jam, will you?" Molly couldn't bear hearing any more details of Amy and Troy's Super Bowl sex life.

But Amy wouldn't give up, and the buttery late-afternoon sunlight splashed her love-bitten neck as she regarded Molly earnestly. "It looks like things with you and Kevin could still work out if you just, maybe, tried a little harder. I'm serious about the perfume. Sex is real important to men, and if you'd just use a little-"

Molly shoved the scones at her and made a dash for the sitting room.

Later, when she got back to the cottage, Kevin was already there. He sat on the droopy old couch in the front room with Roo lolling on the cushion next to him. His feet were propped up, and a book lay open in his lap. Although he looked as if he didn't have a care in the world, Molly knew better.

He glanced up at her. "I like this Benny guy."

Her heart sank as she realized he was reading Daphne Says Hello. The other four books in the series lay nearby.

"Where did you get those?"

"Last night when I went into town. There's a kids' store-mainly clothes, but the owner sells some books and toys, too. She had these in the window. When I told her you were here, she got pretty excited about it." He tapped the page with his index finger. "This Benny character-"

"Those are children's books. I can't imagine why you'd bother reading them."

"Curiosity. You know, there are a couple of things about Benny that seem kind of familiar. For example-"

"Really? Well, thank you. He's entirely imaginary, but I do try to give all my characters qualities that readers can identify with."

"Yeah, well, I can identify with Benny, all right." He gazed down at a drawing of Benny wearing sunglasses that looked very much like his silver-rimmed Revos. "One thing I don't understand… The store owner said she'd gotten some pressure from one of her customers to take the books off the shelf because they were pornographic. Tell me what I'm missing."

Roo finally hopped off the couch and came over to greet her. She leaned down to pat him. "Have you ever heard of SKIFSA? Straight Kids for a Straight America?"

"Sure. They get their kicks going after gays and lesbians. The women all have big hair, and the men show too much teeth when they smile."

"Exactly. And right now they're after my bunny."

"What do you mean?" Roo trotted back to Kevin.

"They're attacking the Daphne series as homosexual propaganda."

Kevin started to laugh.

"I'm not kidding. They hadn't paid any attention to my books until we got married, but after all the stories about us appeared in the press, they decided to jump on the publicity bandwagon and go after me." She found herself telling him about her conversation with Helen and the changes Birdcage wanted in the Daphne books.

"I hope you told her exactly what she could do with her changes."

"It's not that easy. I have a contract, and they're keepingDaphne Takes a Tumble off the publication schedule until I send them the new illustrations." She didn't mention the rest of the advance money they owed her. "Besides, it's not as if moving Daphne and Melissa a few inches farther apart affects the story."

"Then why haven't you done the drawings?"

"I've had some troubles with… with writer's block. But it's gotten a lot better since I've been here."

"So now you're going to do them?"

She didn't like the disapproval she detected in his voice. "It's easy to stand on principle when you have a few million dollars in the bank, but I don't."

"I guess."

She got up and headed into the kitchen. As she pulled out a bottle of wine, Roo rubbed against her ankles. She heard Kevin come up behind her.

"We're drinking again, are we?"

"You're strong enough to fight me off if I get out of hand."

"Just don't make me hurt my passing arm."

She smiled and poured. He took the glass she handed him, and by unspoken agreement they walked together out onto the porch. The glider squeaked as he eased down next to her and took a sip of wine.

"You're a good writer, Molly. I can see why kids like your books. When you were drawing Benny, did you happen to notice how much-"

"What's with you and my pooch?"

"Damned if I know." He glared down at the poodle, who'd collapsed over one of his feet. "He followed me back here from the B &B. Believe me, I didn't encourage it."

Molly remembered the way Roo had picked up on Kevin's distress in the garden with Lilly. Apparently they had bonded, only Kevin didn't know it yet.

"How's your leg?" he asked.

"Leg?"

"Any aftereffects from that cramp?"

"It's… a little sore. Very sore. Sort of this dull throb. Pretty painful, actually. I'll have to take some Tylenol. But I'm sure it'll be better by tomorrow."

"No more swimming alone, okay? I'm serious. It was a stupid thing to do." He propped his arm along the back of the cushions and gave her his I-mean-business-you-lowlife-rookie look. "And while we're at it, don't get too cozy with Lilly."

"I don't think you have to worry about that. In case you didn't notice, she's not too fond of me. Still, I think you need to hear her out."

"That's not going to happen. This is my life, Molly, and you don't understand anything about it."

"That's not exactly true," she said carefully. "I'm an orphan, too."

He withdrew his arm. "You don't get to call yourself an orphan if you're over twenty-one."

"The point is, my mother died when I was two, so I know something about feeling disconnected from your roots."

"Our circumstances aren't anything alike, so don't try to make comparisons." He gazed out into the woods. "I had two great parents. You didn't have any."

"I had Phoebe and Dan."

"You were a teenager by then. Before that, you seem to have raised yourself."

He was deliberately turning the conversation away from himself. She understood that, too, and she let him do it. "Me and Danielle Steel."

"What are you talking about?"

"I was a fan, and I knew she had lots of kids. I used to pretend I was one of them." She smiled at his amusement. "Now, some might find that pathetic, but I think it was pretty creative."

"It's definitely original."

"Then I'd fantasize a mercifully painless death for Bert, at which point it would be magically revealed that he wasn't my father at all. My real father was-"

"Let me guess. Bill Cosby."

"I wasn't that well adjusted. It was Bruce Springsteen. And no comments, okay?"

"Why should I comment when Freud already did the job?"

Molly wrinkled her nose at him. They sat in surprisingly companionable silence, broken only by Roo's rhythmic snores. But Molly'd never been good at leaving well enough alone. "I still think you need to hear her out."

"I can't come up with a single reason why."

"Because she won't go away until you do. And because this will keep hovering over you for the rest of your life."

He set down his glass. "Maybe the reason you're so obsessed with analyzing my life is so you won't get depressed thinking about your own neuroses."

"Probably."

He rose from the glider. "What do you say we go into town for some dinner?"

She'd already spent far too much time with him today, but she couldn't stand the idea of staying here alone tonight while he painted the town German chocolate. "I suppose. Let me get a sweater."

As she headed back to her bedroom, she told herself what she already knew. Going out to dinner with him was a lousy idea, just as lousy as the two of them sitting around on the porch drinking wine together. Almost as lousy as not insisting he sleep under another roof.

Even though she didn't care about impressing him, she decided a shawl would make a better fashion statement with her sundress than a sweater, and she whipped out the bright red tablecloth she'd discovered in the bottom drawer of the dresser. As she unfolded it, she spotted something strange on the table next to her bed, something that hadn't been there earlier and that definitely didn't belong to her. "Aarrrggghhhh!"

Kevin shot into the room. "What's wrong?"

"Look at that!" She pointed at the small bottle of drugstore perfume. "That meddling little… trollop!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Amy stuck that perfume there!" She rounded on him. "Bite me!"

"Why are you mad at me? I didn't do it."

"No! Bite me. Give me a hickey right here." She jabbed her finger at a spot a few inches above her collarbone.

"You want me to give you a hickey?"

"Are you deaf?"

"Just thunderstruck."

"There's no one else I can ask, and I can't stand spending another day getting marital advice from a nineteen-year-old nymphomaniac. This'll put a stop to it."

"Did anybody ever mention you might be a few french fries short of a Happy Meal?"

"Go ahead. Make fun of me. She doesn't condescend to you the same way she does to me."

"Forget it. I'm not giving you a hickey."

"Fine. I'll get someone else to do it."

"You will not!"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'll ask Charlotte Long."

"That's disgusting."

"She knows how the lovebirds behave. She'll understand."

"The image of that woman chomping on your neck just took away my appetite. And don't you think it'll be a little embarrassing showing off your bruise when other people are around?"

"I'll wear something with a collar, and I'll flip it up."

"Then push it right back down when you see Amy."

"Okay, I'm not proud of myself. But if I don't do something, I'm going to strangle her."

"She's just a teenager. Why do you care?"

"Fine. Forget it."

"And have you run off to Charlotte Long?" His voice dropped a husky note. "I don't think so."

She swallowed. "You'll do it?"

"I guess I have to."

Oh, boy… She squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her neck toward him. Her heart started to pound. What did she think she was doing?

Not a thing, apparently, because he didn't touch her.

She opened her eyes and blinked. "Could you, uh, hurry up?"

He didn't touch her, but neither did he move away. Oh, God, why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why couldn't he have wrinkly skin and a big potbelly instead of being a walking advertisement for hard bodies? "What are you waiting for?"

"I haven't given a girl a hickey since I was fourteen."

"I'm sure it'll come back if you concentrate."

"Concentration isn't my problem."

The gleam in those smoky green eyes indicated that her behavior had put her right on the border between eccentric and insane. Her burst of temper had faded. She had to extricate herself. "Oh, never mind."

She spun around to leave, but he caught her arm. The feel of his fingers on her skin made her shiver. "I didn't say I wouldn't. I just need to warm up a little."

Even if her feet had caught fire, she couldn't have moved.

"I can't just lunge and bite." His thumb stroked her arm. "It's not in my nature." Goose bumps quivered over her skin as he lifted his hand and trailed a finger over the curve of her neck.

Her voice developed a really annoying rasp. "It's all right. Go ahead and lunge."

"I'm a professional athlete." His words were a seductive caress as he traced a lazy S to the base of her throat. "Lack of a proper warm-up leads to injuries."

"That's the point, isn't it? An… injury?"

He didn't reply, and she stopped breathing as his mouth came closer. She felt a shock when his lips brushed the corner of hers.

He hadn't even made a direct hit, but her bones melted. She heard a soft, indecipherable sound and realized it had come from her, the easiest woman on planet earth.

He pulled her against him, a gentle movement, but the contact sizzled. Hard bone and warm flesh. She wanted all of his mouth, and she turned her head to find it, but he altered course. Instead of giving her the kiss she yearned for, he touched the opposite corner of her mouth.

Her blood pounded. His lips trailed from her jaw to her neck. Then he got ready to do exactly as she'd asked.

I've changed my mind! Please don't bite!

He didn't. He played at her throat until her breathing came fast and shallow. She hated him for teasing her, but couldn't make herself push away. And then he put an end to the game and kissed her for real.

The world spun, and everything turned upside down. His arms cradled her as if she really belonged inside them. She didn't know whose lips parted first, but their tongues touched.

It was a kiss made in lonely dreams. A kiss that took its time. A kiss that felt so right she couldn't remember all the reasons it was wrong.

His hand plowed through her hair, and those hard hips pressed against hers. She felt what she'd done to him and loved it. Her breast tingled as he covered it with his palm.

He yelped and snatched his hand away. "Damn it!"

She sprang back and instinctively checked to see if her breast had grown teeth. But it wasn't her breast.

He glared down at Roo, whose sharp, canine nails were digging into his leg. "Go away, mutt!"

Reality crashed back in on her. Just what did she think she was doing playing kissy-face with Mr. I'm Too Sexy? And she couldn't even blame him for letting things get out of hand because she was the one who'd started it.

"Stop it, Roo." Shaken, she pulled the dog away.

"Don't you ever trim the Klingon's toenails?"

"He wasn't attacking you. He just wanted to play."

"Yeah? Well, so did I!"

A long silence quivered between them.

She wanted him to be the first to look away, but he didn't, so she looked right back. It was unnerving. While she felt like hiding under the bed, he seemed perfectly willing to stand there all evening and think things over. The breast he'd touched still felt warm.

"This is getting complicated," he finally said.

She was messing with the NFL, so she ignored her rubbery legs. "Not for me. You're an okay kisser, by the way. So many athletes gnaw."

The corners of his eyes crinkled. "You just keep fighting, Daphne. Now, are we going to get dinner, or should we get back to work on that hickey you want so bad?"

"Forget the hickey. Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease."

"And sometimes bunny ladies turn into chickens."

She wasn't going to win this game, so she stuck her nose in the air like the rich heiress she wasn't, then grabbed the red tablecloth and swirled it around her shoulders.

The North Woods décor made the dining room of the Wind Lake Inn feel like an old hunting lodge. Indian-blanket-print curtains hung at the long, narrow windows, and the rustic walls displayed a collection of snowshoes and antique animal traps, along with the mounted heads of deer and elk. Molly focused on the birchbark canoe hanging from the rafters instead of those staring glass eyes.

Kevin was getting good at reading her mind, and he nodded toward the dead animals. "There used to be this restaurant in New York that specialized in exotic game-kangaroo, tiger, elephant steaks. One time some friends took me there for lionburgers."

"That's revolting! What kind of sick person would eat Simba?"

He chuckled and returned to his trout. "Not me. I had hash browns and pecan pie instead."

"You're messing with me. Stop it."

His eyes took a few lazy tango steps over her body. "You didn't mind earlier."

She toyed with the stem of her wineglass. "It was the alcohol."

"It was the sex we're not having."

She opened her mouth to cut him off at the knees, but he cut her off first. "Save your breath, Daph. It's time you faced a few important facts. Number one, we're married. Number two, we're living under the same roof-"

"Not by my choice."

"And number three, we're both celibate at the moment."

"You can't be celibate for a moment. It's a long-term lifestyle. Believe me, I know." She hadn't meant to say the last part out loud. Or maybe she had. She speared a carrot coin she didn't want to eat.

He set down his fork to study her more closely. "You're kidding, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm kidding." She gobbled up the carrot. "Did you think I was serious?"

He rubbed his chin. "You aren't kidding."

"Do you see the waiter? I think I'm ready for dessert."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No."

He bided his time.

She riddled with another piece of carrot, then shrugged. "I've got issues."

"So does Time magazine. Stop hedging."

"First tell me where you think this conversation is going."

"You know where. Straight to the bedroom."

"Bedrooms," she emphasized, wishing he didn't look so grim about it. "His and hers. And it has to stay that way."

"A couple of days ago I'd have agreed with you. But both of us know that if it hadn't been for Godzilla's toenails, we'd be naked right now."

She shivered. "You don't know that for a fact."

"Listen, Molly, the newspaper ad doesn't come out until next Thursday. Today's only Saturday. It'll take another couple of days for interviews. Then another day or so to train whoever I hire. That's a lot of nights."

She'd wimped around long enough, and she abandoned all pretense of eating. "Kevin, I don't do casual sex."

"Now, that's weird. I seem to remember a night last February…"

"I had a crush on you, all right? A stupid crush that got out of hand."

"A crush?" He leaned back in the chair, beginning to enjoy himself. "What are you, twelve?"

"Stop being a jerk."

"So you had a crush on me?"

His crooked smile looked exactly like Benny's when he thought he had Daphne right where he wanted her. The bunny didn't like it, and neither did Molly.

"I had crushes on you and Alan Greenspan both at the same time. I can't imagine what I was thinking of. Although the crush I had on Greenspan was a lot worse. Thank God I didn't run into him with that sexy briefcase."

He ignored that bit of folderol. "Interesting that Daphne seems to have a crush on Benny, too."

"She does not! He's horrible to her."

"Maybe if she'd put out, he'd be nicer."

"That's more disgusting than me and Charlotte Long!" She needed to sidetrack this conversation. "You can get sex anywhere, but we have a friendship, and that's more important."

"A friendship?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, I guess we do. Maybe that's what makes this exciting. I've never had sex with a friend before."

"It's nothing more than a fascination with the forbidden."

"I don't see why it's forbidden to you." He frowned. "I have a lot more to lose."

"Exactly how do you figure that?"

"Come on. You know how I feel about my career. Your closest family members happen to be my employers, and I'm on shaky ground with them at the moment. This is exactly why I always keep my female relationships separate from the team. I've never even dated one of the Star Girl cheerleaders."

"Yet here you are, all ready to get jiggy with the boss's sister."

"I've got everything to lose. You don't have anything."

Just this fragile little heart of mine.

He ran his thumb along the stem of his wineglass. "The truth is, a few nights of sexual dalliance might help your writing career."

"I can't wait to hear this."

"It'll reprogram your subconscious so you don't send out any more secret homosexual messages in your books."

She rolled her eyes.

He grinned.

"Give me a break, Kevin. If we were back in Chicago, it wouldn't occur to you to even think about having sex with me. How flattering is that?"

"It sure as hell would occur to me if we were together all the time like we are here."

He was deliberately missing the point, but before she could tell him that, the waitress appeared to see if there was anything wrong with the meals they weren't eating.

Kevin assured her there wasn't. She gave him a full-blast smile and began chatting with him as if he were her best friend. Since people reacted the same way to Dan and Phoebe, Molly was used to this kind of interruption, but the waitress was cute and curvy, so she found it annoying.

When the woman finally left, Kevin settled back in his chair and picked up the one part of their conversation she most wished he'd forgotten. "This celibacy thing… how long has that been going on?"

She took her time cutting a small piece of chicken. "A while."

"Any particular reason?"

She chewed slowly, as if she were thinking over his question instead of trying to find a way out. There wasn't any, so she attempted to sound grand and mysterious. "A choice I made."

"Is this one more part of that good girl thing everybody in the world believes about you except me?"

"I am a good girl!"

"You're a brat."

She sniffed, a little pleased, but not letting on. "Why should a virtuous woman have to justify herself? Or semivirtuous anyway, so don't think I was a virgin before I lost my mind with you." But in some ways she was a virgin. Although she knew about sex, neither of her two affairs had taught her anything about making love, and neither had that awful night with Kevin.

"Because we're friends, remember? Friends tell each other things. You already know a lot more about me than almost anybody."

She didn't like being more embarrassed about this disclosure than she'd been when she told him she'd given away her inheritance, so she tried her best to look pious by putting her elbows on the table and making little prayer hands. "Being sexually discriminating is nothing to be ashamed about."

In some ways he understood her better than her own family, and his raised eyebrow told her she hadn't impressed him.

"I'm just-I know a lot of people treat sex casually, but I can't do that. I think it's too important."

"I'm not going to argue with you."

"Well, then, that's it."

"I'm glad."

Was it her imagination, or did she detect a little smugness in his expression?

"You're glad about what? That you've had a stadium full of easy women while I've been keeping my legs crossed? Talk about a double standard."

"Hey, I'm not proud of it. It's programmed in those X chromosomes. And it hasn't been a stadium full."

"Let me put it like this: Some people can handle sex without commitment, but it turns out that I'm not one of them, so it would be better if you'd move back into the house."

"Technically speaking, Daph, I've made a pretty big commitment to you, and I'm thinking it's payback time."

"Sex is not a commodity. You can't bargain with it."

"Who says?" His smile turned positively diabolical. "There were lots of nice-looking clothes at that boutique in town, and I can be real free with my credit card."

"What a proud moment this is for me. Bunny-book author turned hooker in one easy step."

He liked that, but his rumble of laughter was interrupted by a couple approaching from the other side of the dining room. "Excuse me, but aren't you Kevin Tucker? Hey, my wife and I are big fans…"

Molly settled back and sipped her coffee while Kevin dealt with his admirers. The man made her melt, and there was no use pretending otherwise. If it were just his good looks that attracted her, he wouldn't be so dangerous, but that cocky charm was chipping away at her defenses. As for the kiss they'd shared…

Stop right there! Just because their kiss had knocked her off her feet didn't mean she was going to act on it. She'd only begun to pull out of her emotional tailspin, and she wasn't self-destructive enough to throw herself back into it. She simply needed to keep reminding herself that Kevin was bored, and he wanted a little hanky-panky. The grim truth was that any woman would do, and she happened to be handy. Still, she could no longer deny that her old crush was back.

Some women were too dumb to draw breath.

Kevin tossed down the last of the Daphne books Molly had tried unsuccessfully to hide when they returned to the cottage. He couldn't believe it! Half of his recent life lay on the pages she'd written. Expurgated, of course. But still…

He was Benny the Badger! His red Harley… His Jet Ski… That very minor skydiving incident blown way out of proportion… And Benny snowboarding down Old Cold Mountain wearing a pair of silver Revos. He should sue!

Except he was flattered. She was a terrific writer, and the stories were great-kid-hip and funny. Although there was one thing he didn't like about the Daphne books-the bunny generally ended up getting the upper hand over the badger. What kind of message was that to send to little boys? Or big ones, for that matter?

He leaned back on the saggy excuse for a couch and glared toward the bedroom door she'd shut behind her. His good mood from dinner had faded. He'd have to be blind not to know that she was attracted to him. So what was the point?

She wanted to jerk his chain, that was the point. She wanted to make him beg so she could feel like she had her pride back. This whole thing was some kind of power trip for her. She was getting off on being cute and funny around him, making him enjoy her company, fluffing her hair, wearing funky clothes designed just so he'd itch to pull them off her. Then, when it was time to do exactly that, she jumped back and said she didn't believe in sex without commitment. Bull.

He needed a shower-a cold one-but there was only that pint-size bathtub. God, he hated it here. Why was she making such a big frickin' deal out of this? She might have said no at dinner, but when he'd kissed her, that sweet little body sure had been saying yes. They were married! He was the one who had to compromise himself, not her!

His policy of never mixing business with pleasure had blown up in his face. The trouble he was having keeping his eyes off the bedroom door filled him with self-disgust. He was Kevin Tucker, damn it, and he didn't have to beg for any woman's affections, not when there were so many others standing in line trying to catch his attention.

Well, he'd had enough. From now on he was going to be all business. He'd take care of the campground and step up his workouts so he was in top shape when training camp started. As for that irritating little brat who happened to be his wife… Until they got back to Chicago, it was strictly hands off.