Happy Campers

====================== Happy Campers by Vanessa Hart ====================== Copyright (c)2003 Vanessa Hart First Published by Liquid Silver Books, May, 2003 Atlantic Bridge/Liquid Silver www.liquidsilverbooks.com Erotica/Romance

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Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 6280 Crittenden Ave, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright 2003, Vanessa Hart. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. -------*Chapter One* The motorhome groaned as it climbed the maze of narrow, steep winding roads in Lake Helen Campground. Tall pines and un-pruned shrubbery crowded both sides of the road except where numbered posts identified the campsites. Leslie Turner directed her sister to the gravel turnoff of their

assigned loop. Grateful that Kat knew how to drive the camper, Leslie contented herself to play navigator. "Here it is. Lucky thirteen." No sooner had the words escaped Leslie's mouth then a tree limb scraped the curbside of the vehicle. There weren't any curbs here, but Rob, Kat's husband, had called the passenger side "curbside" when he'd given them a brief orientation on motorhome use. Coasting into the horseshoe-shaped clearing, Kat killed the motor and jumped out, her face contorted in terror. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Leslie also bolted from the motorhome's cab to survey the damage. A dark scratch zigzagged the length of the vehicle. Kat pointed to the culprit, a gnarled bush leaning into the roadway. "How am I supposed to see a tree like that? It's growing sideways, for crying out loud." Turning back to the scratch, Kat stomped her foot. "Shit! Would you look at that? Rob's going to kill me." "It'll probably buff out," a masculine voice assured them. Leslie and Kat spun around to face an olive-skinned man in his early-to-mid thirties. His awesome blue eyes stared at the side of the motorhome. He stuffed both hands into the pockets of his hiking shorts, which exposed tanned muscled legs. Leslie fought the ridiculous impulse to finger-comb his rich brown hair. Man, this guy was _Superman_ to Josh Irvin's Clark Kent. Stop that! She'd promised herself no more thoughts of Josh. She vowed to forget that heartbreaking creep. But she'd wager this guy broke hearts, too. "You think?" Kat asked, as if reading Leslie's thoughts. Leslie blinked, struggling to form a coherent response. Then she remembered they were talking about buffing out the scratches on the motorhome, not handsome heartbreaking hunks. "It's fiberglass. A little polish, some elbow grease, and Rob will be none the wiser." Then he smiled, his gaze settling on Leslie. _Unsettling_ on Leslie, she decided. The sexy curve of his mouth softened the hard set of his jaw, the not-quite-straight nose -- probably broken once in football -- the defects that kept him from being perfectly handsome. She looked away, but her traitorous gaze boomeranged back to his face. "Thanks for the advice." His smile widened, sucking the oxygen from her lungs, damn him! She would

_not_ make a fool of herself over another handsome face. Talk about eye candy! She could quickly forget her broken heart and Josh as long as she had this guy to look at. Spinning on her heel, she held out her hand to Kat. "The keys. I have to hook up the power." The gravel crunched beneath the man's feet as he retreated. "I'm in 'twelve' if you need any help." Kat pulled the keys from the ignition and handed them to Leslie. "Hmm. Do _you_ need any help, sis?" Leslie deliberately ignored the suggestive tone. "Yes. You can hook up the water hose." "Sure thing." With her usual enthusiasm, Kat pulled the water hose from the motorhome's side bin, as if she actually knew what she was doing. Leslie unlocked the tiny door marked _Power_, then unrolled the heavy black electrical cord from its storage cubby hole. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this camping trip." "Will you lighten up? We haven't had a girl's only getaway since Rob and I got married. This will give us a chance for quality time together." Yeah, right. An entire week of quality time, which meant Kat would have her nose buried in one of her romance novels that she'd stuffed in her tote bag, leaving Leslie too many lonely hours in the north Georgia woods to think. "You were always the outdoors type. Where's your sense of adventure?" Kat asked. Leslie sighed. Her sister meant well. "You're right. It's been a tough year and I could use a retreat." She'd make the most of the week with Kat. After all, it _had_ been a while since they'd enjoyed time just to themselves. But Leslie vowed she'd ignore the distraction of the hunk in the next campsite. She'd sworn off sex and men, with good reason. **** Gray Webster lowered himself into his lawn chair, then picked up the tackle box he had been organizing before the arrival of his new neighbors. He wondered if they were going to be needing his help again. He hoped so. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to feel that sizzle of

attraction toward a woman, particularly one he didn't even know. He wasn't supposed to be fantasizing about her, without knowing her name or even her marital status. With two weeks to go before his wedding, he probably had last-minute jitters. Every bridegroom suffered those, didn't they? At thirty-four, he knew his own mind and was ready to settle down. And Myra Brewer was one special lady. Even his mother had thought so. He shook off thoughts of his mother, swallowing the knot of sorrow lodged in his throat. She was gone now, and he had grieved long enough. Or did one ever stop grieving? Forcing his thoughts elsewhere, he watched the activity in campsite thirteen. The woman worried about Rob, presumably the absent owner of the mini-motorhome, had long, wavy auburn hair and a beautiful face. She carried herself with an air of confidence and glamour. He quickly dismissed her, drawn instead to her delightful companion. The same auburn-color hair, in a shorter style, framed a face made lovelier by its lack of makeup. Gray had always been a sucker for the sporty look, the _natural_ beauty. Myra had that look, with her scrubbed, fair skin, mossy green eyes and thick mane of blunt-cut blond hair. Otherwise, he might be a goner now for the spunky lady next door. But he had Myra. In two short weeks they would be man and wife. And bless her, this camping trip had been her idea. "Enjoy one last getaway, sugar, before you sell that camper. Have yourself a week to fish, hike, whatever those man-things are you like to do." She had grinned before kissing him. "Most of all, miss me like crazy." He had solemnly sworn to do so. And he did miss her. Why else would he be watching two women struggle with a water hook-up? His hands stilled over his fishing tackle as he took in their battle with a thread-less water faucet. Unable to ignore their problem, he rose from his chair, then sauntered over to site thirteen. "Okay, Les, turn it on," Long Hair instructed. Short Hair turned the faucet handle. The white hose broke loose, dumping water to soak her once-white canvas shoes. She struggled to reach the faucet through the deluge, deflecting a spray of water up her arms. Drenched, she danced around in the red mud, defeating the faucet. Turning off the water, she spun and stumbled over the hose. Her feet shot out from under her, landing her hard on her backside into the slick mud. "Hell fire shit!" From her, the obscenity sounded more like a nursery rhyme. He suppressed a grin. "Do you ladies have a water thief?"

Short Hair glared at him. "Of course not! Why would anyone steal our water?" He chuckled in spite of the fury in her eyes. "Well, I'm glad we could entertain you, Mister..." "Gray Webster. Let me give you a hand." Short Hair slipped her wet hand into his. He tugged her to her feet, trying to ignore his awareness of her touch. How ridiculous to feel a zing from a muddy woman's wet hand. He especially tried to keep from staring at the way her wet shirt clung to two firm, perfect tits. Oh, boy. Her dusky nipples, like two headlights, threatened to poke through the fabric. Long Hair stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Nice to meet you, Gray Webster. I'm Kathleen Hupp and this disagreeable person is my sister, Leslie Turner." Wiping her dampened hands across the very attractive rear of her soaked jeans, Leslie brushed at the wet layer of mud. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Webster." "Gray." "Gray." Her glare returned, this time directed at her sister. "And I am not disagreeable." The woman named Kathleen shrugged, a hint of laughter dancing in her eyes. "If you say so." He gestured toward the faucet. "A water thief is an adapter for threadless faucets. You may have one in one of the storage bins." "Okay, Kat. Find us a water thief among Rob's gizmos." As Kathleen -- or "Kat" as Leslie called her -- busied herself unpacking the storage compartments in search of a water thief, Gray kneeled beside the discarded water hose. "You also need to spray the faucet and hose connections with a bleach solution to sanitize them." "Rob didn't tell us about that." From inside one of the compartments Kat's muffled voice answered, "I seriously doubt Rob concerns himself with sanitation when he's on a fishing trip." Leslie flashed him a smile and shrugged. "Rob's her husband. We're borrowing his camper and we're not used to it."

He started to ask if it was Rob's rig they weren't used to or camping in general. However, his mouth refused to work while the rest of him focused on the adorable dimple at the right corner of her mouth. "Eureka!" Kat held up a threaded brass fitting. "No, that's your in-line water pressure regulator. You'll need that, too." The dimple disappeared. Leslie rubbed at her temples, painting them with two mud stripes. "Rob didn't tell us about a water pressure regulator." "It protects the plumbing inside your coach from high water pressure. You attach it between the faucet and the water hose, unless the faucet isn't threaded. Then you need the water thief." Leslie shook her head. "I'm afraid Rob's orientation didn't cover everything we need to know." "Could you help me look, Gray?" "Kat." Leslie spoke to her sister as if she were addressing a naughty child. "We don't want to impose on the man." "I'm a veteran at this. Always happy to get new campers started." Emptying the outside compartments of plastic storage bins didn't take long. He located the water thief as well as other items they needed for hooking up. "This is a volt meter. You need to plug this in to one of your coach outlets to monitor your power." He laid the device in Leslie's outstretched hand. "How do we monitor our power?" He met her serious gaze and forgot her question. Thick dark lashes fringed her brown eyes. He thought of chocolate drops. "I -- I beg your pardon?" "You said to monitor our power. What do we do with this volt meter thingie?" He launched into a brief explanation of electricity and voltage requirements of the motorhome, showing her how to gauge if the voltage dropped below adequate levels. "Rob didn't say anything about that," Kat said. He had a feeling there were a good many things Rob had neglected in his briefing. "Maybe he thought it more information than you needed for no longer than you'd be camping." "A week?" Kat shrieked.

"You're staying all week?" He struggled to keep himself from beating a path back to his camper and locking himself in. Both women nodded. "Me, too. And I'm just next door if you have any more questions." Gray shuddered at the prospect. After overseeing the water connection, Gray returned to his own campsite. The two women may have been easy on the eyes, but they were clueless with the motorhome. He had a feeling it was going to be a long week. **** "I think that's everything." Leslie pushed her short, damp tendrils away from her sweaty forehead. "I thought it was supposed to be cooler in the mountains." "It is. Think how hot we'd be if we had stayed in Atlanta." She murmured agreement, while thinking about the cool air-conditioned condo she'd left behind. "I'll cook tonight, since you drove. Okay?" "Sure." Kat dusted her hands. "So? What do you think?" Leslie smoothed a plastic table cloth over the picnic table, then secured the edges with metal clips. "About what?" "About the hunk next door." She cringed. "Jeez. Why don't you get out your cheerleader's megaphone?" "He can't hear us. He's playing some kind of old people's music." _Old people's music_? Leslie strained to hear the low melody drifting over from his boom box. Vaguely familiar, she searched her memory, trying to recognize the song. Brass sounds blended with a snappy piano run. "_I've Got Rhythm_." "You'd better go on the pill, too, as back-up." "What? Oh, for heaven's sake, Kat. Is sex all you think about?" Kat snapped open a lawn chair then plopped down. "You're the one bringing up birth control." "No, silly. _I've Got Rhythm_ is the name of the song. It's Gershwin." "If you say so. I still think with a good-looking specimen like Gray Webster next door it's a good idea to be prepared. _Are_ you on the pill?"

She perched on the picnic table bench. "You of all people know why I've sworn off sex and men, Kat." Kat raised an eyebrow. "Even a Pierce Brosnan look-alike? Hell-o. Do you have a pulse?" "Give it a rest." "Not bloody likely!" Kat launched into her Mae West impersonation. "As long as Rob's willing, I'm ready." Leslie exhaled an exasperated breath. "The _matchmaking_, Kat. Give the _matchmaking_ a rest." "Oh." Kat flipped open the paperback. "I might as well read." As if she'd had any other plans. Leslie had to concede that readers like her sister kept her in a job. She had just made her deadline for her third book and looked forward to a vacation before starting her next project. Unfortunately, she had let Kat derail her original vacation plans. As for the book Leslie had a contract to write, well, that was another disappointment. For the first time in her life, she faced a writer's block of titanic proportion. Of course, Kat had blamed stress for the writer's block, touting an escape to nature in Rob's motorhome as a cure-all. Kat blamed everything on stress, and always had a suggested escape. A twinge of envy nibbled at Leslie. Although she loved her sister dearly, she had always seemed to miss out on the happiness Kat freely gave and grabbed. At twenty-eight, Kat was settled with the man of her dreams. Already thirty, Leslie had too many failed relationships to her credit. She wasn't about to risk another, certainly not with the stranger in site twelve. She pushed herself up from the narrow bench, then stretched. Her skin and scalp itched with dried perspiration from exertion and the warm spring weather. Dried mud spotted her hands and arms. "I need to take a shower before dinner." She doubted Kat heard her as she stepped inside the stuffy motorhome. After opening windows for cross ventilation, Leslie stripped out of her mud-caked jeans and sweaty T-shirt, stepped into the cramped bathroom, then pulled the vinyl shower curtain around her, transforming the room into a shower. She turned on the water. And screamed. -------*Chapter Two*

Gray shot from his lawn chair at the sound of the scream, then collided with Kat at the motorhome door. Leslie stopped screaming, then issued the one loud and distinct curse she had used earlier. _Hell fire shit_ must have been her favorite expletive. "Leslie?" Kat led the way inside. The bathroom door crashed open. Gray froze. Leslie glared at them from the cover of the opaque curtain wrapped around her body. But the wet vinyl did little to conceal her creamy skin and womanly curves. The rosy headlights were back, beckoning him to rip away the cover. His mouth suddenly dry, he struggled to swallow. "What happened to the hot water?" Leslie demanded. Both women looked at him, waiting. "Well, did you light the water heater?" "You have to light it?" Kat frowned. "Rob didn't tell us about that." Gray pulled his gaze from the vision in vinyl, searching for the motorhome control panel. "Here it is. It's electronic ignition, so all you have to do is turn it on." Kat crowded next to him at the panel over the tiny RV sink. "What are these other switches?" "Those are for monitoring your tank levels. If Rob camps without hook-ups, he needs to watch his water supply, sewer and waste water tanks. I don't suppose he told you about that." Both women shook their heads no. "Well, these are your gauges." He pushed the toggle switch igniting the water heater. "After about thirty minutes, you should have hot water." Leslie groaned. "So I have to wait half an hour to take a shower." "Unless you want to go to the bathhouse." "The building we passed at the loop turnoff?" Kat asked. "Yes. You'll need to carry your own towel and toiletries, though. It's bare bones. But it has hot water." "Thanks again, Gray." Leslie gave him a rueful smile. "Sorry I screamed." "No problem."

He backed out the door then down the step. If he stood there ogling Leslie Turner one more minute, he'd be the one in hot water. Maybe he needed to be the one in the cold shower. **** Leslie stuffed clean clothes, soap, shampoo and a bath towel into Kat's canvas tote, then headed for the bathhouse. This was familiar territory. Although she had never gone camping on her own, she had enjoyed summer camp as a kid, with tent cabins, communal showers, and roasted hot dogs. She smiled at a girlhood memory of swimming after dark. Floating on her back in the lake, she had drifted as one with the universe, savoring the hushed sounds of nature, gazing at thousands of stars. Hoping to recapture that long-ago feeling of serenity, she had agreed to Kat's suggestion of the camping trip. Maybe the two of them were inept at handling an RV, but they would learn. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, resolving to make the most of her vacation. She could float in the lake again and commune with nature, and keep disturbing memories of Josh and his defection at bay. Her rubber flip-flops failed to cushion the sharp gravel. By the time she limped to the Comfort Station, she was more than ready for a shower. One look at the spiders dropping from luminescent webs halted her. Crickets serenaded a lone frog that hopped along the cement floor. Mustiness blended with an unpleasant outhouse odor. Doubtful that anyone had used the women's showers in a month, Leslie took short, careful steps toward the first stall. Locating the faucet, she turned on the water then jumped out of the way. It took a minute to find a reasonably clean hook on which to hang her towel and tote. By the time she'd undressed, the steaming spray had cleared the stall of cobwebs and debris. Darting into the shower, she didn't even bother pulling the mildewed curtain. No telling what organisms lurked within its folds. After a speedy shower, Leslie dressed in clean clothes, wrapped her hair in her towel, turban-style, then hurried outside. She inhaled a deep breath to clear her nostrils. The sodden flip-flops squished beneath her feet, still no comfort against the sharp-edged rocks. "Could you use a ride?" Gray Webster rolled his all-terrain bicycle in front of the bathhouse. "That's okay. It's not that far." "Hop on the back." He lifted her tote from her fingers, then slipped it over his handle bars. "I noticed you were limping when you walked up here." Struck with the crazy notion he had deliberately ridden past to offer her a ride,

she accepted. Straddling the luggage carrier over the rear tire, she gripped the edge of his bicycle seat. "It's okay to hang on to my waist." _Uh un. No way_. But when he pushed off, she had no choice. If she didn't want to tumble into the gravel, she had to wrap her arms around his body and hold on. The ride lasted less than a minute, but long enough for her to touch his tight muscles, inhale the scent of fresh laundry and bug repellent, feel the warmth of lean male flesh beneath the cotton shirt. "Thanks for the lift," she murmured, jumping from the bicycle. He slid the tote from the handlebars. "Don't forget this." "Thanks." She spun toward him, snatched the tote, then scurried past Kat. Kat followed her inside the motorhome, abandoning the paperback in the lounge chair. Meeting her gaze, Kat lifted one eyebrow. "What's the rush?" "No rush." She forced a shrug. "I just need to comb out my hair before it tangles." "Well, that explains it." "Explains what?" "Why you're blushing." Betrayed by her disobedient skin, Leslie clamped her mouth shut. Better to say nothing than to admit she'd been hugging Gray Webster's back -- and enjoying every second. **** The cellular telephone chirped, startling Gray from his reading. He had one chapter left in the latest P.G. Turner mystery. He considered ignoring it, then remembered he had forgotten to call Myra. He swooped up the phone, punched the Call button, then answered. "Gray? Are you settled in at the campground, sugar?" "Sure am. I was going to call you but..." "Don't tell me. You're at the most exciting part of one of your books." A deep sigh. "Guess I'd better get used to that." He chuckled. "I'll save my reading for when you work the evening shift."

"Diedre asked me to work half of her evening shift tonight so she could go to some recital her kid was in. I refused, of course. I mean, with only two weeks to go, I have too much to do. And to top it all off, Shirley's doctor won't let her come to the wedding. She's confined to bed." "Shirley can't miss the wedding, honey. It'll break her heart to be left out." Shirley had been his mother's roommate during her last weeks at the convalescent home. "Why don't we move the wedding to the chapel there? I'll bet her doctor would allow her a wheel chair trip down the hall." "What?" she shrieked. "Oh, Gray, that is a sweet thought. Don't get me wrong. But how am I supposed to notify everyone with only two weeks to go? Plus I've already paid deposits." "Uh, Myra? Didn't we agree on a small, simple wedding?" "It is a small wedding. But simple? Believe me, it's as hard to plan a wedding and reception for a dozen people as it is for two hundred. And Mother and Daddy are willing to pay for certain extras, but I have to make all the arrangements." He hesitated to ask the exact nature of these "certain extras." Fortunately, Myra forged ahead. "It's just as well you took the week off, Gray, since I'm so-o-o swamped. But I hate that we can't be together for your birthday." "We'll celebrate Friday night when I get home. Okay?" "You bet, sugar!" "I'll call you tomorrow." "Love you. Bye." "Me, too." He switched off the cell phone. Why had he hesitated to use the L word? And why, when he tried to conjure up Myra's perky eyes and sexy smile, did he superimpose a dark-haired, dimpled face? These pre-wedding jitters plagued him more than he'd expected. Even the heroine in the mystery he read reminded him of Leslie. She cursed the same way, repeating one favorite and distinctive phrase, the one Leslie had blurted out twice today -- _hell fire shit._ Even if he wasn't in love with Myra and ready to marry her, he doubted he'd get to first base with Leslie. She had bolted from the bicycle tonight as if he'd had measles. He picked up the paperback to resume reading -- anything to distract himself from the persistent memory of Leslie's arms wrapped around

him, of her breath warming the skin at his neck, of her clean scent. A light rapping at his door interrupted his reading before he could find his place. He leaned toward the window to see who had come calling. Leslie paced beside his camper, wringing her hands, frowning. A burst of pleasure jolted through him. He pushed open the door. "Leslie?" "Oh, hi. Um, I'm sorry to disturb you." She fidgeted with her hair, still damp from her shower. "You aren't bothering me." Liar. She's had you bothered all afternoon. Where had _that_ outrageous thought come from? "You said if we had any trouble...?" "What's wrong?" He stepped outside. "I'm not really sure you can help us. But we're about to eat dinner and there's this horrible odor inside the motorhome. Not exactly appetizing, if you know what I mean." "Let's have a look." He followed her to site thirteen. "You're hooked up to the sewer, right?" "Yes. Rob explained about the seal and how important it is to secure the hose to the connection. Could we have done it wrong?" "Let's have a look inside first." "All right." Even before she opened the door, the sewage odor attacked his sinuses. Worse than some portable toilets he'd used, he battled his gag reflex. "Whew! That's sewer odor all right. Do you have your black water drain valve opened?" Leslie frowned again. "Black water. That's the sewage, right? And gray water is the shower and sink?" "Correct. It's usually okay to leave the gray water tank open to drain, but keep the black water closed." She slumped against the door. "I didn't know which was which, so I opened both." "Let me grab a flash light and I'll be right back." After he'd returned from his campsite, he led Leslie around to the driver's side of the motorhome. She stooped beside him at the sewer connections while he

pointed out the correct handles for emptying each tank. He tried to ignore the clean scent of baby powder, the erotic fragrance of dampened hair. _Erotic?_ Ooh, boy. He was losing it. "Thank you again for coming to our rescue." "I'm glad to help. I'd hate to think about you two trying to sleep with that smell all night. To be on the safe side, you may want to leave both tanks closed until they need to be emptied." She nodded, then closed the second valve. He walked with her to the door, resisting the urge to place his hand at the small of her back. Good grief. Normally he didn't have difficulty keeping his hands off women. He tightened his grip on the flashlight. "Do you have holding tank deodorizer to add to the tank?" "Yes. Rob explained about using that." Kat pressed her face against the screen in the adjacent window. "Still stinks in here." "It will for a while. Turn on your exhaust fan. That should help." Kat screwed her face into a frown. "Exhaust fan? Is that the thingamabob in the ceiling?" He needed to escape the clueless camping sisters. No, not sisters. Just one tempting, beguiling sister. Instead of fleeing to his motorhome, he said, "I'll show you," and climbed aboard. Leslie crowded behind him. In spite of the sewage odor, all he could focus on was her clean, feminine scent. "Is this the exhaust fan?" she asked. "Yes. First you crank open the cover, then set the thermostat. Then push this toggle switch to 'on.'" He demonstrated each step. "Thank you, again." Her wide smile brought back the adorable dimple beside her mouth. "Don't forget to add the tank deodorizer." "I'll do it." Kat jumped from the dinette bench. An awkward silence followed. To avoid meeting Leslie's doe-eyed gaze, he took in the features of the mini-motorhome. Not much larger than a van, it had small kitchen appliances crammed around the sink cabinet, opposite the corner bathroom. A narrow aisle separated the dinette from the sofa. A bunk

bed filled the space above the cab. Kat emerged from the bathroom. "That may be the first thing I've handled right on this rig." He smiled. "Camping takes practice." As he turned to leave, Leslie touched his sleeve. "Say, have you eaten supper?" "No. I'll probably nuke a dog." "We have a hamburger casserole in the oven. There's plenty for three." "It's the least we can do after all you've done for us," Kat added. "Okay. If it's all the same, let's take the casserole over to my place where there's not so much..." "Fragrance?" The dimple deepened. So Leslie had a sense of humor, too. Killer package. He needed to have his head examined for inviting her into his camper. "Good idea." Kat wrinkled her nose. "Let me grab our paper plates and Solo cups and we'll be right over." As he backed away, he caught sight of the periodicals strewn across the dinette table. Gruesome headlines glared back at him from true detective and crime magazines. There was even a militia tabloid. Since he noted the romance novel still in Kat's grip, he doubted the magazines were hers. What kind of reading was Leslie into? Worse, what was he getting into? As Kat gathered utensils and Leslie grabbed the casserole dish with two oven mitts, the two women practically beamed with pleasure. Realization sank in. They were invading _his_ camper, to stay who knew how long. At _his_ invitation. So much for finding out what happens next in the mystery he'd been reading. "Follow the flashlight. It's dark out here." He led them the short distance to his motorhome. "Boy, howdy!" Kat agreed. "It's never allowed to be this dark in the city." After ushering Kat and Leslie inside, he quickly cleared the dinette table. Within minutes the two sisters sat across from him sharing the casserole and drinking sodas. "This is better than a hotdog, ladies. Thanks for inviting me." Leslie chewed, then swallowed. "Thank you for the Cokes."

"Leslie's a wonderful cook." Kat's words of praise earned a glower from her sister. "Well, it's true." Sensing Leslie's embarrassment, Gray changed the subject. "Are you the one reading the true crime and detective rags?" She nodded. "They give me ideas." Whoa! He wasn't going to touch that one. Regardless of her charm and beauty, Leslie was one weird woman. Lucky for him he was engaged to a normal, caring woman like... Perspiration broke out over his forehead and upper lip. He searched his mind. Of course he remembered her name. It was... _Myra_. Right. "Are you okay, Gray?" Leslie asked. Both women frowned at him. "Fine." "You sure?" Kat added. "I have some antacids if you need them." "No, I'm fine. Really." Antacids couldn't help him with his pre-wedding nerves. For what else could be wrong with him? He certainly wasn't having second thoughts about marrying the perfect woman, the one his mother had so warmly endorsed. He wasn't attracted to Leslie, with her strange reading interests and adorable dimple. Inviting her and her sister to dinner had been unwise. He had to keep his head on straight, as his mom used to say. Remember his priorities. Starting tomorrow he would keep his distance from the ladies in site thirteen. He was supposed to be relaxing and enjoying his vacation, not stressed out by inappropriate and confusing thoughts. Fishing. That's what he came for and that's what he'd do for the next six days. "Forgive me for offering Gray antacids right after bragging on your cooking?" Kat asked her sister. Leslie laughed, exposing the killer dimple. "Sure." Leslie's eyes danced in pleasure when she met his gaze. Gray should have looked away, not held the eye contact. He should have frowned, not returned her bright smile. He should have taken the cold shower. It was going to be a long week. ****

Myra went down on her knees and fumbled with Gray's zipper. "I have a surprise for you, sugar." Gray closed his eyes as cool air brushed his aroused penis. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, baby. This is a great surprise. Her delicate fingers stroked his hardened flesh, then slid to cup his balls. She gave them a slow massage while covering his penis with her mouth. Oh yes! Warm and wet, her tongue and lips caressed him, bringing him closer and closer to release. She'd never, ever gone down on him before, not like this. He reached for her, longing to thread his fingers through her fine blond hair. Would she let him come in her mouth? Wait! What the hell? Had Myra dyed her hair? His hands stroked the short auburn tendrils. She gazed up at him with her brown doe eyes but never stopped sucking. No, not Myra. Those luscious lips ... belonged to Leslie! Leslie's mouth sucked and licked, driving him mad with pleasure. Such pleasure! God help him, he was going to come... Gray trembled as he awakened, his body drenched in a cold sweat. His rigid penis throbbed. Although most dreams evaporated immediately upon awakening, memory of this dream lingered. He elected not to analyze why his Myra had morphed into the sexy camper next door. He needed that cold shower, now more than ever. Ooh, boy. -------*Chapter Three* Leslie bent over the notebook on the small table, scribbling a plot outline. She had eliminated six very murderous scenarios as too predictable and overused. In the past her stories had invented themselves, leaping from headlines to form fantastic "what if" plots. Maybe headlines would help her now. She picked up one of her true crime magazines to scan. Kat's graceful body stretched the length of the sofa opposite the dinette. Absorbed in her reading, she hadn't spoken since breakfast, which for Kat meant dry toast and coffee. Finally, she glanced up from her book. "You aren't supposed to be working. This is a vacation. Remember?" "I'll relax when I know what my story is." Kat sat up, then peered through the window. "Fog's lifted. Looks like it's going to be a nice day." "Great. I'll move to the picnic table. I don't intend to spend my camping trip in

the great indoors." She stuck her pen over her ear, then gathered up the magazines and a spiral notebook. "Aren't you going to explore the lake?" "I want to. Are you up to a hike?" Kat snorted. "As if. I think I'll stretch out in Rob's lounge chair and relax." "If you relax anymore, you'll be asleep." "Not a bad idea." Kat held up a halting hand. "Don't give me the exercise lecture, either. You were always the tomboy. I accept that. So accept me as the couch potato." Leslie shrugged. "No lecture. Just remember it's your day to cook." Leslie stepped outside, then secured the exterior door to the side of the motorhome, closing only the screen door. After drying the plastic tablecloth with paper towels, she spread out her magazines -- true crime and detective rags, as Gray had called them -- then scanned the headlines. One caught her eye as particularly sad. An unbalanced man had murdered his former girlfriend on her wedding day as she was leaving for the church. Mulling over the story, she thought a good gothic romance could involve a failed attempt on the bride-to-be's life, complicated by growing suspicions about her fiance. The old boyfriend could be the killer, or a red herring. Maybe the fiance was the real killer. The heroine could fall madly and impulsively in love with the investigating officer, then cancel her engagement hours before the wedding. She ripped out the page of notes, then crumpled it. Canceled weddings struck too close to home. She skimmed other headlines, waiting for inspiration to strike. Her book contract required her to write another Sunny Madison mystery, so she vetoed the idea of marrying Sunny off. She hoped to write her way into another multi-book series contract. An hour later, Leslie stared at the blank notebook paper and the discarded magazines. The wedding story didn't suit her, but it had offered the most intriguing plot possibilities. Swearing, she threw down her pen, then forced her stiff body into motion. She gathered her writing materials, stowed them inside the motorhome, then dug out her hiking boots. "Take a hike, sis," Kat teased, as Leslie laced up the boots. "I might as well. Maybe the trail around the lake will inspire me. Nothing else has." "You're trying too hard. It'll come." Kat yawned, stretched, then stood. "As

for me, I'm going to relax in that lounge chair and read in the shade." Leslie pushed a floppy khaki hat on her head, then followed Kat outside. "Go for it. That should really get the heart pumping." Kat made a crude response, which Leslie ignored. She clomped across the gravel road toward the lake. **** Morning sun poured through the trees, bathing the weathered wooden dock in warm light. Gray reeled in his line for the last time. He missed the fog. Hidden under its misty blanket, he had relaxed with his fishing rod and absorbed the peace and silence of gray dawn. He'd also pulled in four keepers, four large bass now dangling in the water from a stringer. He cleaned his tackle, then began to pack up. No need to be greedy. Four bass would feed him four meals, unless he shared with the ladies next door. Now there was a thought, one he stopped in its tracks. Fishing provided him with his escape from the hapless campers, not an excuse to be with them. With her. _Leslie_. The woman he'd vowed to stop thinking about. And he'd behaved all morning -- well, almost all morning -- except for that one lapse when he'd glanced at the mini-motorhome in site thirteen, wondering where she slept. He'd guess she'd be the one to climb up into the over-the-cab bunk. Thoughts of her relaxed, slumbering figure triggered his imagination in directions he needed to ignore. He refused to envision her firm, leggy body beneath his. The sudden flush of warmth to his skin, a heat that converged then dropped like a lead ball into his gut, was from too much coffee. Yeah, right. Except his Thermos bottle of coffee stood beside his tackle box, untouched. As if thinking about the woman a second time that morning wasn't enough for his nervous system, he suddenly caught sight of her hiking the lake trail, headed directly toward him, wearing khaki cargo shorts, a red shirt, and a stunning smile. "Good morning, Gray." He managed to find his voice. "Hello. You like to hike?" She nodded. "You like to fish?" "Yeah." She plopped down beside him, then wrapped her arms around her bent knees. She lifted her head, peering from beneath her floppy hat. "Any luck?" Forcing his hands to open -- he hadn't realized they were clenched -- he pulled

in the stringer. "Four bass." "Wow. Those are beauties." "Do you fish?" He lowered his catch back into the water. "Once. I caught a fourteen-inch catfish. Pretty good for a girl." "Good for a guy, too." Her face lit up with pleasure. He watched for the dimple at her mouth. "Did you use night crawlers?" She shuddered. "No. I refuse to use live bait." The same woman who enjoyed reading true crime and detective magazines had a problem hooking a worm? "What bait did you use, then?" "A dough ball. A wadded up piece of bread, actually." "I'm impressed." She shook her head at the memory. "It really irked my fiance that I caught a fish with bread and he caught nothing." _Fiance_? He suppressed a sigh of relief -- or was it disappointment? Saved from temptation, the tension inside him should have uncoiled. But the tangle of nerves in his stomach prevailed. He unscrewed the lid of his Thermos, then held it toward her. Strong brewed coffee smells wafted over them. "Coffee? We'll have to share the cup." "Thanks." She waited as he poured the dark steaming liquid into the lid. "I don't have any sugar or creamer." "Black's fine." He couldn't pull his gaze from her mouth. She pressed her lips to the plastic lid, tilting it to drink. He swallowed. Twice. "So, does your fiance fish without you?" A bleakness darkened her features, then dissipated with the return of her smile. "Not anymore. I mean, he's not my fiance anymore." Now the tension melted from his body. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. Ooh, boy. He scrambled for a clever response. "You ditched him because he couldn't compete with your catch. Right?" Her lips twitched as she sipped coffee. "Let's just say I couldn't compete with _his_ catch."

"Ouch! That must've hurt." He wiped his hands along the length of his jeans. Damnation, he could read between the lines. She'd been hurt by the jerk. His thoughts tumbled from his mouth like a runaway horse. "The guy must be an idiot to cheat on a terrific woman like you." "Why, thank you for the compliment, Gray." She shrugged, still smiling. But the dimple vanished. "That's history. At least I didn't have to suffer through another wedding." Another wedding? "You'd been married before?" She shook her head, snickering. "No. I was thinking about Kat's. Just six months before my wedding date she put the whole family through this _Gone With The Wind_ gala you wouldn't believe. As maid of honor, I had to wear a dark green velvet dress like the one Scarlett had made from draperies. Thankfully, it was December, although the darn costumes were still hot." "I'll bet your sister made a beautiful bride." "Kat would shine in a feed sack. Her dress looked just like an antebellum bridal gown." She sighed, then shook her head. "Mother sews or the whole shebang would've bankrupted my parents." "Wedding plans have a way of ballooning," he said. "My fiancee and I agreed to a small, modest wedding. Now she's really stressed from all the arrangements. I guess it's easier for the groom." "When's the wedding?" "Two weeks from today." He accepted the Thermos cup she handed him. As he drank after her, he placed his mouth where hers had been, imagining how she'd taste if he kissed her. Swallowing, he banished his wayward thoughts, reminding himself he loved _Myra_. "I'd better go." She stood. "Thanks for the coffee break." By the time his stunned brain could react to her abrupt departure, Leslie had disappeared into the woods. **** Leslie stomped the pine needle path, pushing her pace until she panted for breath. She should have known. Anyone as good looking and as nice as Gray had to be taken. The good guys always eluded her. Not that she was looking. The more she thought about it, the more she relaxed. At least now Kat would have to stop her matchmaking efforts. It would be a pleasant week if Leslie could just enjoy the park without worrying

about impressing a man or evading her sister. She'd focus her thoughts on her next book's plot instead of the unwanted feelings Gray had stirred within her, threatening to bring to life ... feelings dormant for almost a year. _Sexual_ feelings. The guy had stirred up her suppressed urges, the ones she'd tried to deny since Josh dumped her. Gray, safely engaged, would be no temptation now. But a tiny throb worked its way from deep inside her to her clitoris. That did it. "When I get home, I'm buying a vibrator." By the time she had circled the lake, returning to the dock, Gray was gone. Good. Until she had her attraction toward him under control, she'd need to avoid him. The guy was forbidden fruit, although there was nothing fruity about him. No, indeed. Slowing her pace, she exhaled a long breath. Two more laps around the lake should do it. By that time she'd be too exhausted to think about Gray Webster or his pending nuptials. Or her sudden and intense horniness. A red cardinal zipped past her, almost within touching distance, reminding her of why she enjoyed nature hikes. Its feathers the brilliant shade of Kat's favorite lipstick, the shade Leslie jokingly called Hooker Red, the bird attacked a second cardinal. A battle ensued between the two males, causing her to sniff and shake her head. Macho birds. She had never seen two _female_ birds fight for dominance. Later as she climbed the trail back to the campsite, Leslie's emotions were under control. At least she thought so until she rounded the motorhome. Gray's lean, sexy body filled the lawn chair opposite Kat's lounge. "Guess what?" Kat's smug expression gave her pause. Warily Leslie asked, "What?" "I don't have to cook tonight. We're having fresh grilled bass at Gray's." **** Gray needed Myra. Picking up the cellular telephone, he punched in his number, then the Send button. Hearing her voice would drown out his crazy obsession with Leslie. "Hello?" Myra sounded out of breath. "Hi, beautiful. It's me." She giggled. "Hi yourself, sugar. What's up?"

"Not a thing. I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you." "Good. Like I told you, I want you to miss me like crazy." "I do." "Um, is there anything else? I'm kinda rushed this morning. I've a lot of errands to run." "I understand. We'll talk later." "I'll call you tonight, okay?" She'd hung up without a good-bye. She must have been in a real hurry. The damn wedding consumed so much of her time lately she had no time for him. Or was he being overly sensitive? The wedding held great importance to Myra and to her family. He could suffer through it. Then the two of them would have a lifetime together. And that was what mattered most. A knot gripped his stomach, so painful, so unexpected, it pushed the breath from his lungs. Doubling over in pain, he squeezed his eyes shut against the white stars in his vision. What in the world was wrong with him? He'd just had a physical exam. Doctor Powers had proclaimed him to be fit and healthy. He collapsed onto the sofa. His pulse raced wildly. Trying to relax, he forced slow, deep breaths. Calming breaths. Within minutes the attack had passed, his heart rate had normalized. He really needed to lighten up on the caffeine, or at least switch to decaf. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift back to thoughts of his earlier conversation with Kat. She had told him about Rob's trailer-building business, their house in the Atlanta suburb of Sewanee, and Rob's love of fishing. The guy apparently made good money to afford a house, a motorhome, and a wife who described her occupation as "part-time beauty consultant." Not that he envied Rob's success. Gray stayed in his engineer's position at the power company because of the regular work schedule and generous vacation benefits. He knew the price he'd pay for starting his own business would be leisure time. After growing up with a workaholic father, Gray had no intention of losing the balance he'd achieved in his life. No, Gray didn't envy Rob's money. But he _did_ envy him. Without having met the guy, he could see how happily married he must be. Kat didn't begrudge her husband a single day of pleasure in his fishing camper. She bubbled over with talk of Rob, of activities they shared, plans they'd made. The woman was besotted with her husband, and made no secret of her feelings. Could that be what he envied? Did Myra feel that passionate about _him_? And could he honestly say his enthusiasm rivaled Kat's?

There he went again, with the pre-wedding doubts. He had been warned it would happen. But doubts hammered him, ever since ... was it only yesterday he had met Leslie Turner? Was she merely a symptom of bridegroom jitters -or the cause? Ooh boy. **** "Rob's coming over tonight," Kat announced at dinner. She and Leslie sat opposite Gray at his campsite's picnic table, feasting on grilled fish, baked potatoes and salad, while buzzing mosquitoes looked to feast on them. Leslie scraped the last of her salad from the plastic bowl. "When did you talk to Rob?" "I didn't. I just know." Kat winked, grinning. "He won't be able to stand two nights in a row without seeing me." "This is true," Leslie muttered, waving away a mosquito. "I look forward to meeting him." As if on cue, a slow-moving sport utility vehicle crept past the campsite, then wheeled into site thirteen. Kat stood, waving at the driver. "Rob! Over here!" Kat didn't wait. Leaping from the bench, she ran into the arms of her husband, who had bolted from the Explorer. "This may take a while," Leslie told Gray. "They still think of themselves as newlyweds, so there's a lot of lip-locking going on." Gray smiled. "I think it's great. How long did you say they've been married?" "About a year and a half." "Good thing I caught four bass. We'll be able to offer Rob dinner." "Hmm. I have a feeling that's not what he's hungry for." Rob and Kat managed to disentangle themselves. Arm in arm they strolled over to Gray's campsite. After Kat introduced the two men, Gray invited Rob to eat. Leslie picked at the remains of her food, half-listening to the conversation around her. Rob and Gray traded fishing tales as well as camping stories. She braced herself for Gray's account of the sisters' camping disasters. But Gray didn't betray them. Kat did.

"I need to show you what I did to the side of the motorhome," she said, pulling at his arm. To Leslie's amazement, Kat's eyes filled with tears. Robbed of speech, she lowered her head, her shoulders shaking with sobs. What was going on? "Oh, baby, it's all right." Rob wrapped her into his arms, then walked her over to examine the damage. "I've never seen that happen before." "What?" "Kat cry like that. Oh, she'll bawl over some book or movie, but never over a real life crisis." "I told you it'll buff out. Rob won't be mad." "I didn't expect him to be. He's a good guy." Gray nodded. "I like him." She shook her head, then stood. "You cooked. Let me clean up." "We'll both clean up. Then we can relax and visit." He flashed her one of his bone-melting smiles, the smile that brought a glitter to his gorgeous blue eyes. The smile that squeezed the air from her lungs. Damn him again. The slamming door from Rob's motorhome snapped her attention from Gray. The muffled click of the deadbolt followed. "Oh, no." "What is it?" "I think I'm locked out for a while." Mercy, what was she supposed to do outside, alone with a practically-married blue-eyed hunk? "Rob is comforting Kat in private, I presume?" She nodded. "I told you they still think they're newlyweds." "Well, let's clean up and go for a walk. There's plenty of daylight left." "Good idea." The farther the distance from the sounds of her sister and brother-in-law making passionate love, the better. Not that she resented her sister's happiness. But it had been a long, long time since Leslie'd had any passion in her life -- even longer than it'd been since she'd had sex. Refusing to dwell on memories of Josh, she concentrated on gathering trash and wiping off the

tablecloth. "The few dirty utensils we have can soak while we walk." Gray emerged from his motorhome gripping his flashlight and insect repellent. "Let's refresh our bug spray." "Good idea." Evening shadows darkened the campground road as their footsteps crunched gravel. Neither spoke, yet seemed to agree to take the trail down to Lake Helen. When they reached the fishing dock, Gray broke the silence. "Want to watch the sunset?" What a perfectly romantic idea. Except she couldn't get romantic with Gray. He had a fiancee, for crying out loud. She needed to remember that. She nodded, then folded herself into a cross-legged position beside him. "Tell me about your fiancee." There. Might as well get it out in the open so she'd remember her place. He gazed across the water, his brown hair lifted by the cool breeze. "Her name's Myra. She's a nurse at a convalescent home on Roswell Road." "How did you meet her?" "My mother was one of Myra's patients. Myra took a special interest in Mom and the two became close. Mom played matchmaker I guess, since she introduced us and encouraged our dating. Myra took Mom's death hard, even though it's a common occurrence in geriatrics." "Geriatrics? How old was your mom?" "Fifty-nine. She wasn't a geriatrics case, but her cancer had disabled her to the point she needed constant care." Without forethought, Leslie placed her hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort. But comfort was the last thing she felt. _Disturbed_ would better describe her reaction. As quickly as grace would allow, she withdrew her hand. "I'm sorry for your loss. Is your father still living?" He turned toward her, his lips curved into a weak smile. "Still living, still working. Still a dedicated career man. Ever watch Meteorology Network on cable? He's the storm expert." "Eugene Webster is your father?" "Yep."

"So how long did you know Myra before you knew she was The One? I'm curious since I have rather poor judgment in that department." "We dated a few times, but we saw a lot of each other at the convalescent home. She was everything I wanted in a wife, and as Mom kept reminding me, I wasn't getting any younger." "You aren't that old." "Thirty four, tomorrow." "Happy Birthday." "Thanks. Anyway, I couldn't see waiting, so I asked Myra to marry me. It just felt like the right time, I guess. The thing to do." He paused, swallowing. "We announced our engagement to Mom the night before she slipped into the coma." He turned away then, staring across the lake at the red glow of leftover sun peeking over Brasstown Bald, Georgia's highest peak. She left him alone with his thoughts, remembering the starkness in his eyes as he'd talked about his mother's death. The sun's light faded to a coral pink, streaked with indigo and lavender. Gray cleared his throat. "Your turn. Tell me about your engagement." "It's embarrassing, Gray. Please don't ask." "No fair. I told you my story." He flashed her an exaggerated smile of eagerness. She laughed in spite of the painful memories. "Oh, all right. Josh and I were engaged for two years. We met at the junior college in Lawrenceville. He was a student in a creative writing class I taught." "You're a teacher?" She nodded. "Part time." Not wanting to discuss her writer's block, she omitted telling him about her career as a novelist. "Anyway, we set the date, I rented the dress, reserved the chapel and minister. I tried to keep it simple and inexpensive after the extravaganza of Kat and Rob's wedding." "I have to interrupt. You _rented_ your bridal gown? Can you do that?" "Sure. Just like you rent a tux. And it's much cheaper, too. As I said, I didn't want a big expensive bash like Kat's." "But how can you keep it simple and inexpensive?" "Lots of ways. I did my research, believe me. I found out I could save money

by booking a Friday evening in July, instead of the popular May or June Saturdays. I ordered a sheet cake to serve at the reception, with a small traditional wedding cake for the photo shoot. And I had a photographer friend who owed me a favor and cut me a deal for the pictures." "How big a reception had you planned?" "About a hundred people. But I saved money there, too, by hiring a disk jockey instead of musicians, and by serving a chicken pasta dish instead of the expensive entrees. Also, I had no liquor except for champagne. Liquor can be one of your big ticket items at a reception." "You're a very resourceful lady. I wish Myra had talked to you a few months ago." "There are dozens of ways to save money..." "I wasn't thinking about the expense as much as the time. She's running herself ragged making arrangements." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. Tell me what happened to ruin your wedding." "Josh invited me to meet him for lunch in Gwinnett Mall, I assumed so we could shop for our rings. Instead, to my utter shock and humiliation, it was to introduce me to his bride." "Geez! He'd already _married_ her?" His eyes widened. "Afraid so. They eloped." "The guy married someone else without breaking up with you?" "Sordid, isn't it?" "Had he been seeing her the whole time?" She laughed at that. "No. That's what made it so painful. He had only known her a couple of weeks. But he claims he just _knew_. She was the one for him, his soul mate. All that time he kept dragging his feet about a wedding date, I thought he had a classic case of commitment phobia. Instead I found out it was just me. I wasn't the bride he wanted." He squinted his eyes, staring at her intently. "You aren't going to cry, are you?" No matter how close to tears she may have been, seeing his alarmed expression sent her into laughter, the kind of laughter that left her weak and refreshed. _Cleansed_.

"No," she managed, wiping her eyes, "I won't cry. Gosh this feels good! Thanks, Gray." He frowned. "What are you talking about?" "This is the first time I've been able to laugh about Josh dumping me. I must be recovering. You think?" She giggled again at his serious expression. His eyelids lowered to half-mast as he leaned toward her. "I think you're not going to thank me for this." Her breath froze in her windpipe. The remnants of laughter vanished as her traitorous body leaned into his. Pulled by his warmth, his masculine scent, she gave no thought to fiancees or weddings or why she shouldn't surrender to her powerful attraction to this man. His breath warmed her face as he closed the distance between them. Threading his fingers through her hair, he cupped her cheek, his gentle touch igniting her flesh. She could no more tell him to stop than she could fly across the lake. Stifling a sigh, she closed her eyes as he covered her mouth with his. -------*Chapter Four* The touch of Leslie's lips against his delivered a knock-out punch, reeling him into outer space. He tasted, sampled. She opened her mouth to him and his nibbling turned into a feast. He slipped his tongue between her delicious lips, delving inside. His hands itched to touch her, to get her naked, to bury himself inside her. Hot desire arrowed to his groin. He was rock-solid hard in an instant. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He intended the quick sample of her buttery soft lips to cure him of his curiosity about her, end his adolescent-ish infatuation. Instead, he panted like a thirsty dog, and his hand groped. He caressed one of her breasts, so soft, yet firm. His thumb grazed her nipple and she moaned. Pushing her to her back, he ground his erection into her thigh, begging for relief. Instead of recoiling, Leslie shoved her fingers into his hair, pushing his head to her hardened, aroused nipple. He tasted her through the thin fabric of her shirt, sucking and nibbling. It wasn't enough. He needed her flesh in his mouth. What had begun as a kiss of curiosity turned into a burning need to have her. Now. He ached to touch more of her. She opened her legs to him, inviting him to lie intimately . God, she felt wonderful, even fully dressed. She'd be heaven in the nude. He reached for her waistband.

"Gray, please stop." With pained reluctance, he pulled back. They both began talking at once. "That shouldn't have happened..." "...that was a mistake." "I'm sorry..." "...it won't happen again." "I don't know what possessed me..." Darkness made Leslie's face difficult to read. But not her mood. She pushed herself up from the dock, then stomped across the wooden decking to the bank. She spun around to face him, crossing her arms over her heaving chest. "Stay away from me, Gray." "I apologized. What more can I say?" She exhaled a long, shaky breath. "I won't be a last fling before you get married." The mixture of hurt and condemnation in her voice pierced through him. He scrubbed his face with both hands. "Is that what you think?" "You're engaged to marry a woman in two weeks and you go horizontal with me. _Duh_." "I've never..." He stopped. How could he explain what he didn't understand? His desire to kiss her had consumed him, suppressing all reason or judgment. Would she believe that he'd never done anything so outrageously impulsive? "I said I'm sorry. Please, just forget it happened." As if _he_ could. She raised her chin. "I will. And you'd better forget it, too, buster. I won't be a ... a..." fisting her hands, she growled, "a home wrecker!" She stomped off toward the darkened path. Remembering he held the flashlight, Gray sprinted to catch her, struggling to ignore his crippling hard-on. "Wait up. I have the light." She ignored him. "Leslie, please. You could trip on a tree root and break an ankle or something. Be reasonable." Her abrupt stop hurled him into her back. He grabbed her arm to keep her from tumbling nose-first into the pine-needled path. She jerked free of his hold as if jolted by an electric shock. Curiously, he had imagined just such a tingle.

Static electricity from low humidity. Yeah, that was it. "Don't." He didn't blame her for being prickly. But, damn, she was overreacting. She'd hardly resisted his kiss. He'd apologized repeatedly. What else could he do? He shoved the flashlight at her. "Take this." She opened her fisted hand, slowly wrapping her fingers around the Mag-lite. "You want me to lead the way?" "No. I want you to take it and go. I'll be up later." "But how will _you_ see?" Shrugging, he took a step back, then turned toward the lake. "Don't worry about it." He'd been raised to be protective of women, no matter how chauvinistic or politically incorrect that seemed. He wouldn't allow Leslie to hike through the woods in darkness. Although he'd rather escort her back to camp, he knew she was in no mood for his company. Besides, he needed to come to terms with the churn of emotions ripping through him like a cyclone. And he needed to jump in the lake . Maybe that would cure his hard-on. **** Although darkness hovered over Lake Helen Campground, Leslie sensed it was early morning. As quietly as she could, she stepped down from the over-the-cab bunk, then stowed the ladder atop the mattress, careful not to disturb her slumbering sister, who lay twisted in a sheet on the sofa. Dressing in the dark, she eased open the door then stepped outside to finish tucking in her camp shirt and tying her hiking shoes. She shoved her floppy hat onto her head. The heavy cloud cover held back the promise of sunrise. Checking her watch, Leslie confirmed her suspicion about the time. At ten minutes past five no noises disturbed the serenity of the park ... In spite of her resolve to banish all thoughts of Gray, she searched the shadows of site twelve for signs of life. She inhaled a deep breath of fresh pine and damp earth, then headed down the gravel road. Still too dark to chance the wooded hiking trail, she intended to walk the loops within the campground and explore the other park roads. She'd walk until sunrise, then walk some more. She'd walk until she could make sense of what had happened last night with Gray. Consumed with anger, she had struck out at him when in truth she blamed herself. From the moment she'd met the guy, she'd been under his spell. She

couldn't remember ever having such an instant and overwhelming reaction to any man. Flattered that he felt at least some attraction toward her, she had allowed herself to give in to the temptation of his kiss. She knew better. She had learned her lesson about men the hard way. Instead of her usual thoughts about Josh, she suffered a new, different kind of hurt. Gray's faithlessness to his bride-to-be gnawed at her, along with the guilty knowledge of her own role. The irony didn't escape her. In less than a year she had gone from _betrayed bride_ to _other woman_. In either scenario she played the part of _loser_. She replayed the scene at the lake a dozen times, rehearsing what she would say next time she had to face Gray. Sometimes she would apologize for overreacting. Sometimes she ranted at him further for forsaking his fiancee. In either case, she knew confronting him was inevitable. She only hoped she could handle future encounters with dignity. She hiked long after the sun rose over the towering pines and nearby hills, beyond the time when her appetite demanded breakfast. Kat would wonder where she was, if her sister had rolled out of bed yet. But Leslie passed the road leading back to the camping area and kept on walking. **** "Geez! I overslept." Gray looked at the digital clock recessed in the bedside cabinet and cursed. After finishing his murder mystery, he'd turned out the light and slipped into bed, eager to escape into dreamless slumber. Instead he'd lain tormented by too many unanswered questions, puzzles that had nothing to do with the book he'd read. He stretched lazily, yawning, reminding himself he wasn't on a schedule. It was Sunday. He was on vacation. Furthermore, today was his birthday. Too bad he didn't feel like celebrating. He collected his scattered thoughts, put them on hold, then went through the motions of getting up. After choking down the requisite one third cup of bran cereal and skim milk, he dressed, then headed outdoors. Before losing his nerve, he marched over to site thirteen. Just as he poised his fist to knock, the door swung open. Kat swayed, then leaned against the door, greeting him with a smile that bordered on a grimace. "Hi, Gray." She stepped down from the motorhome, then collapsed into the vinyl lounge chair. He detected the sour odor of sickness on her breath. "Kat? Are you ill?" She nodded. "I seem to have an upset stomach this morning. Have a seat."

He dropped into the webbed lawn chair. "Gee, I hope it wasn't my cooking." "No. I was a bit queasy yesterday morning, too." He rubbed the stubble along his jawline and grinned. "Well, now, that sounds like morning sickness." Her pale face crimsoned. "The thought crossed my mind." "This is hardly my area of expertise," he said, holding up his palms. "Where's your sister?" "I have no idea. She's been gone for hours." He pushed up from the chair, ignoring the stab of disappointment. "Wait here. I do have a safe remedy for the nausea." "You do?" "Yes. Mint tea. I used to make it for my mom when she was going through chemo. Sometimes it was all she could tolerate." "Mint tea? Sounds great. I'll put on the tea kettle." "Just relax. I'll do it, then it can be heating while I dig out the tea." "Thanks, Gray," she murmured, as she settled back and closed her eyes. When he returned after several minutes with the tin of tea, he thought Kat had fallen asleep. Then she opened her eyes and smiled. "Leslie told me about your engagement. Your bride is a lucky woman." He hesitated. "Well, I'm a lucky man." "Ah," she sighed. "Spoken like a man in love." He ignored that. Pulling open the motorhome door, he said, "Let me check the water." Inside the small camper he switched off the burner under the whistling tea kettle, then poured boiling water over the tea bag which he dangled into a mug he'd found over the sink. The scent of peppermint drifted from the mug as he carried it outside. "Careful. It's hot." Kat took the mug, cradled it in both hands, then ventured a sip. "Hmm. Just inhaling this makes me feel better." "Good. I'll leave the tin here so you can make more if you need it." "Thanks, again." She peered at him over the rim of the mug. "Too bad you're

engaged. I had hopes of fixing you up with my sister. She deserves a sweet guy like you." He cleared his throat, hoping she wouldn't notice the guilty flush staining his face. "Leslie's a terrific lady. I can't imagine her having trouble attracting men." "She's gun shy. Did she tell you about Josh the Jerk?" He chuckled at the nickname. "Yep. She told me." "It really shook her self-confidence." "He broke her heart." Why the sudden rush of anger? This wasn't his business and he didn't even know the guy. Kat sipped the tea, then nodded. "She believes she's somehow lacking, and it worries me. It's been almost a year, time to move on. I want to help her. You know?" "I understand you want to help, but it's really up to her." "This sister retreat was my idea, but I don't think it's working. I had hoped she'd open up to me, talk it out." "Just because you love Leslie doesn't make you responsible for her." "I guess it's guilt. She's always seen herself in my shadow. But it wasn't like that. We're just different." She lifted her hair away from her neck, twisting it into a knot. "I was the cheerleader and homecoming queen, she was editor of the school newspaper. I may have had the popularity, but she had the brains. Do you have any idea how gifted Leslie is?" Before he could form an answer, he heard the crunch of gravel, saw the lopsided khaki hat. The lithe, athletic body with just enough feminine curves stepped forward. Leslie frowned when she saw him. At least she didn't run in the opposite direction. "Speak of the devil," Kat murmured. "I was just talking about you." Leslie lifted her eyebrows. "Oh?" "I think I'll leave you two to your sister chat." "Sister chat?" Leslie's head swiveled between him and Kat. He nodded to Kat. "Your sister isn't feeling well this morning." "Oh, no, you don't. We need to talk, Gray Webster. _Now_." "I agree." Funny how his insides tightened just from her brown-eyed scowl.

No matter how determined he'd been, forgetting their kiss was a lost cause. He'd bet his next motorhome payment she shared his turmoil. "But don't you want to talk to your sister first?" Kat waved them away. "I really don't feel like company now. Just take your arguing someplace else, please." Leslie wrapped her arms beneath her firm, pointed tits, drawing his attention where it had no business. "We aren't arguing, Kat." "If you say so." "Walk with me," Gray suggested, pulling his gaze from the twin peaks above her folded arms. Wordlessly Leslie marched beside him down the gravel road toward the comfort station. Despite his efforts to engage her in a leisurely walk, Gray had to increase his pace to keep up. Frustrated and puzzled by Leslie's antagonism, he stopped in the middle of the road and threw up his hands in defeat. "You said you wanted to talk." She spun toward him, having taken a dozen steps beyond where he stood. "You said walk." "Well, yes, so we could talk." He shrugged. "What's on your mind?" "Last night." Join the club, he thought, but said nothing. She chewed at her lower lip, dropping her gaze to her dusty hiking boots. "I need to apologize." "Why?" "I reacted poorly. You were no more to blame than I. I don't have to point out that I was a willing participant in the, um, kiss." "No apology necessary. We agreed to forget about last night." She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. "Did you?" "Not for a minute." A wry grin slipped past his lips. "And you?" She shook her head, then looked away. "I'm not proud of kissing a man engaged to another woman. Hell, we did a lot more than kissing. I don't understand why I lost control like that." "That makes two of us." Inhaling a deep breath, he shook his head. "You

won't believe this but I never did anything to betray Myra before. I'd never even been tempted." She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "So, kissing me was an aberration, a freak lapse that won't happen again." "I won't lie to you, Leslie. I'd kiss you right now if I thought you'd welcome it. If you think this makes me a rotten bridegroom, you're right. I've thought this over -- hell, I've thought of nothing else -- and I know I have to be fair to Myra." Frown lines creased her forehead. "What are you saying?" "If my behavior is some subconscious message that I'm not ready for marriage, then Myra needs to know, pronto." "Oh, Gray." Leslie met his gaze, her doe eyes pleading. "Don't do anything rash. I've been on the receiving end of that kind of news. I know how it feels to have your dreams ripped apart just weeks before the wedding." "You're comparing me to Josh the Jerk. But Josh kept his misgivings a secret. Don't you see? I won't do that. Myra has a right to know now, not two weeks from now." "Myra has a right to know _what_, Gray? What exactly is it you think you must tell her?" He resumed walking. "That I have concerns about getting married." "Concerns?" Catching up with him, she matched his brisk pace. "You have pre-wedding anxiety. You'll do far more harm than good by making unnecessary confessions." "Pre-wedding anxiety." He clenched, then unclenched his hands, forcing them to relax at his side. "Everyone keeps talking about last minute jitters. But what if it isn't? I could be making a very serious mistake that could ruin both my life and Myra's." "Exactly. That's why I urge you to hold your tongue, at least until you've thought it through." He started to tell her he'd done nothing _but_ think it through. Leslie seemed convinced, though, and she'd been the kiss-ee. "I'll sleep on it." As if by agreement, they turned around at the main park road and headed back toward their campsites. "Now, tell me about Kat. You said she wasn't feeling well." "I think she'd rather discuss it with you herself."

"Oh. It's okay to talk about cramps, Gray. Might as well get used to it if you're getting married." "It wasn't cramps. It was nausea." He waited, then cleared his throat. "Morning nausea." Three steps later, Leslie stopped mid-stride, her mouth curving into a wide grin. "Morning sickness?" "Could be." The dimple deepened into her cheek, her dark eyes glistened with moisture. "A baby." "You aren't going to cry, are you?" He clamped his mouth shut, flooded with the memory of the last time he had said those words to her, right before he'd tasted her luscious mouth. "No," she squeaked, then cleared her throat. So she remembered, too. "How do you feel about aunt-hood?" "Thrilled. I just hope Kat's thrilled with _motherhood_." "I hear it grows on you." "No pun intended," she added with a grin. They passed the comfort station, then slowed their pace as the grade in the road increased. Conversation tapered off as they approached their campsites. Except for the scraping of their footsteps in gravel and the occasional trill of a mockingbird, nothing disturbed the peaceful silence of the wooded mountains. Leslie seemed lost in thought. He stole a glance at her pensive face, startled by the sadness in her eyes. _I know how it feels to have your dreams ripped apart_. He sensed she had dreamed of babies with Josh the Jerk. Had she abandoned her dreams of someday having a family? Wanting to reach out to her, he searched his mind for the right thing to say. A woman's cries for help ruptured the quiet of the woods. "Oh, my God!" Leslie tore across the gravel to the motorhome. "That's Kat!" -------*Chapter Five* Leslie raced up the step into the motorhome, her hiking boots squishing to a halt on the sodden floor.

"What's wrong?" "The water won't drain. It's flooding." "Kat, turn off the shower." "But I'm still soapy..." "Now!" Shaking her head, Leslie listened for the shower to stop. Water spilled from beneath the raised bathroom door, spreading dark stains over the carpet. "What's the trouble?" Gray asked from the doorway. She sensed he meant to add "now," considering the number of rescues he'd performed for them. "I forgot to open the gray water tank valve after my shower last night. The tank must be backing up into the bathroom." "I'll get it." He disappeared to the other side of the coach. "I need to rinse," came Kat's muffled protest. "Soon." Leslie grabbed for paper towels to wipe up the water. The entire roll sprang from its holder, bounced off the counter, then landed in the puddle at her feet. Muttering a curse, she tore off a dozen of the dampened sheets. She sponged up most of the moisture after exhausting the remaining supply of paper towels. The water stopped dripping from the bathroom door frame. Gray returned, stepping up to the coach entry, avoiding the flooded carpet. "That should take care of it." Leslie leaned back on her heels and yelled, "Is it draining now?" "Yes," Kat called out. "Great!" "Rinse away, then." Leslie shook her head, then wiped water from the door frame. She smiled at Gray. "Thanks, again." "No problem." He offered her his hand to pull her up from the floor. "Let's sit outside." She followed him out to the lawn chairs. "Sorry I panicked like that. It's just that we were talking about her being sick, maybe being pregnant. Then I heard her scream..." "No need to apologize." An awkward silence stretched between them. Leslie's stomach gave a low rumble, reminding her she'd missed breakfast, although strange flutters in her

chest seemed to protest eating just yet. Dampness penetrated her nylon hiking boots, reaching her socks. She unlaced each boot, pulled them off her feet, then unrolled and removed the socks. As she draped the socks over the picnic table to dry, she sensed Gray's gaze, watching her every move. She scooted her chair closer to the picnic table, then propped her bare feet on the bench. "Ahhh. That's better." "Feet sore from hiking?" "No. Just wet. But wet socks and shoes can lead to blisters." She met his gaze and smiled. "By the way, Gray, happy birthday." "Thanks." "Do you have special plans for the day?" He shook his head. "Myra and I plan to go out to dinner Friday when I get back." Leslie murmured a "hmmm," averting her eyes. Mention of _Myra_, the _fiancee_, recharged the tension in the air. "She has to work tonight, anyway," he added. _Change the subject, Leslie_. "I hope Kat's feeling better." "The tea seemed to help." "Tea?" He looked down, shrugging. "I made her mint tea for the nausea." "Was it decaffeinated?" "Yes. It's the same stuff I made Mom during her chemo. I hope that's okay." "Sure." You have to love a guy who makes his mother tea, she thought. She had no trouble picturing manly Gray tenderly serving tea to his sick mother. "I just hope Kat and Rob prepare themselves for the adjustments a baby will bring to their lives." "I'm sure they've talked about it." Had he and Myra discussed children? She wasn't about to ask him. The decision to start a family was a very private matter, although well-meaning family and friends seemed to think otherwise. She cringed, remembering Josh's mother's not-so-subtle hints for immediate grandmotherhood. Ironically, Leslie _had_ wanted to have a baby right away. Josh had insisted they wait.

"What is it?" He leaned toward her, then touching her chin with the tip of his finger, turned her to face him. "You look stricken." She resisted the urge to jerk away from his touch, disturbed by the unbidden heat flooding her face. Damn him, anyway. Why did she let him affect her so easily? "Just having a flashback." He smiled, moved his finger to give her nose a light tap, then settled back in the chair. "Josh the Jerk?" "More or less." She shrugged off the memory. "Nothing I need to talk about." "Okay." Gray wasn't one to intrude or push. She liked that in a man. She found more and more to like about him, especially his kindness to her sister. Too bad he was taken. She plopped her bare feet to the ground, then stood. "Have you had breakfast? I'm starved." "I had cereal. Can I get you some?" "No, thanks. If you'll excuse me a minute, though, I'll put on a pot of coffee and make some toast. Want coffee?" "Sounds great." Unaccustomed to going barefoot, Leslie picked her way across the dirt and an occasional weed to the motorhome. She stepped inside, pausing at the closed bathroom door. A full-length mirror covered most of the door, reflecting an image of a floppy-hatted woman with flushed face and neck. Mercy sakes alive! If Gray didn't notice her heated response to him, he was blind. Turning away from the disquieting vision, she pulled out the jug of bottled water and can of coffee from under the sink. By the time the coffee brewed and she berated herself for her foolishness, she should be able to face him again. **** Gray scrubbed his face with his hand and sighed. Recalling his earlier conversation with Leslie, he had to admit to the wisdom of her words. Of course, he was having second thoughts. Hadn't everyone warned him? A bachelor happy with living alone, answering to no one, free to head for the lake in his camper without a thought for anyone else's feelings or needs, _must_ feel anxious about tying the knot.

His own mother had warned him that, despite his reluctance to marry, someday his solitary lifestyle would leave him empty, aching for more. She had made him promise to marry, start a family, and share his life. It had been the only thing she'd asked of him, and it had been her dying wish. Of course he would marry Myra. They'd make beautiful children together. He tried to picture his children and Myra spending the weekend at Lake Lanier in the motorhome -- the motorhome he would put up for sale next week. _Damn_ these bridegroom jitters. It would help if he could be with Myra now. This week at Lake Helen had been as much her idea as his. He suspected she'd needed him out of her way while she tended to last minute details. But at home with Myra, he hadn't had these misgivings. He hadn't been fascinated by another woman. He hadn't wanted to _kiss_ another woman. He certainly hadn't thought about having sex with another woman! He'd just skip over to his campsite, grab his cellular and give Myra a quick call. He shouted to Leslie through the window screen that he'd be right back, then hurried to his motorhome. He heard Myra's voice answer on the first ring. "Happy Birthday, sugar!" "Thanks, beautiful. You must've been waiting for my call." _Probably since last night_. A pang of guilt rippled through him. He had forgotten to call. "I sure was. How's it going?" "I've caught a few bass, finished reading my book, and slept late. I think I'm getting the hang of this vacation stuff. But I really miss you." "Miss you, too. Just think. In less than two weeks, you can have me all to yourself, all of the time." "Hmm. I look forward to it." His thoughts drifted to Kat and her morning sickness. "I want to get started right away on getting you pregnant." Her sharp intake of breath made him chuckle. "Gray! You aren't serious." "Very. You told Mom you wanted kids." A long silence ensued. "I told a dying woman what she wanted to hear. I thought you understood that." A slow burn crept up his stomach, into the back of his throat. He swallowed. "Understood _what_?" "Gray, honey, I'm almost thirty. It's a little late for me to start a family. Besides, I hardly thought you'd mind."

"Why would you think that?" "Well, you know. Men don't really want kids, do they? You said so yourself." She had him there. He _had_ said as much, thinking about his own father and how he'd regarded his offspring as another of his wife's projects. "I mean, why would you think it's late for you to start a family at thirty?" "Because I'm already burned out. I'm around sick and old people all day, everyday, working in a place that smells like pee and puke. Why would I want to come home to the same thing?" He swallowed a gasp. "That's harsh, Myra. You've never complained about your patients before." "It's not the patients. They can't help it. But there's just so much helplessness. I don't think I could handle it twenty-four hours a day, which is what you have with a baby." "But not forever. Babies grow up." "And cost a fortune, Gray. I'd have to keep working to pay for their private schools, soccer uniforms, yada yada." "You're telling me you have no intention of honoring our promise to Mom to give her grandchildren?" He forced his voice to sound neutral, in spite of the ball of fire in his chest. "Sugar, please. Don't think I'm insensitive here, but she won't know." He choked back an angry retort, letting the static-filled silence serve as his response. _Don't think I'm insensitive_? "Look. Can't we discuss this later? Like after we get the wedding behind us?" Had she been standing in front of him at that moment, he would have taken her by the shoulders and shaken her. "No, Myra. We need to talk about this _before_ the wedding. But not over the phone." Something in his voice must have alerted her to his anger. "I love you, Gray. If starting a family is really important to you, we will work it out. I promise. Obviously, I misread you on the baby issue." He reined in his temper. "Okay. I'm sorry if I upset you." "Didn't Daddy warn you about pre-wedding nerves? It's normal to have second thoughts. That's what you're feeling now."

"Um." "You're still grieving, too, don't forget. It hasn't been that long since we lost your mom." "True. We'll talk more when I see you." "Sure. We have the rest of our lives to talk, sweetie." He ended the call, then pried the cell phone from his whitened fingers. He wasn't ready to return to Leslie's campsite. Coffee no longer held any appeal for him. The burn in his stomach had morphed into cramping, then worse. Spots danced before his eyes, forcing him to close the lids. Lowering himself onto the sofa, he wiped at the perspiration dripping from his forehead, then stretched out. Deep, calming breaths were a struggle for him. Worse than the previous day's attack, Gray had to wonder what was going on. Was he losing his health at thirty-four? He lay there several minutes, trying to relax. His breathing still hadn't returned to normal when he heard rapping against the fiberglass exterior of the coach. Pushing himself away from the sofa, he staggered to the door. Leslie stood holding two steaming mugs. She lifted one toward him. "Since it's your birthday, I thought you deserved room service." When her gaze locked on his face, she wrinkled her forehead into a frown. "Gray? What's wrong? Are you ill?" Before he could answer, she had pushed her way into his motorhome. She set the coffee on the dinette table, then turned to face him. "Sit down," she ordered. "It's nothing." Sinking into the couch, he attempted a smile. "Really." She lay the back of her hand to his forehead. "You're white as milk, and your skin is clammy. Do you have any pain?" "Uh, just in my stomach. Must be indigestion." Her concerned expression became one of disbelief. "Indigestion? Try again. Do you have any symptoms of ulcers? Acid-y stomach? Burning?" "Uh, burning. But I think it was my temper. I was trying to hide my anger." She took a step back, then reached for her mug. If he hadn't been watching her face, he might have missed the brief hurt that flashed in her eyes. "Look. Whatever I did to make you mad, I'm sorry. I'll just be going..." "Wait!" He clutched his abdomen as another cramp hit his gut. "Not..." he

struggled to speak "...you." All concern now, she dropped to her knees in front of him. "Gray? This is serious. You're suffering." She cradled his face in the palm of her hand. "I'm going to find Kat's antacids." His hand whipped out, grabbing her wrist as she tried to stand. "No. It'll pass." He didn't want to examine why he didn't want her to leave. "It always does." Her eyes widened. "_Always does_? You mean, this happens often?" "Lately." _Since I met you_. The implication of this admission didn't escape him. Since meeting Leslie, he'd been off-kilter, emotionally and physically. "I think it's psychosomatic." "At least let me get a cool wet cloth for your face." He nodded. "Thanks ... drawer in the bathroom." He stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. By the time Leslie had returned with the dampened cloth, his breathing had normalized. Selfishly, he welcomed her attention, allowing himself to accept her tender sponging of his forehead and temples. The coolness of the wet cloth mingled with the warm brush of her breath. He longed to grab her wrist, pull her into his arms on top of him. If only he could taste her again, feel her lips move over his. He immediately missed her scent, her warmth, as she stood. "Your color's better." He figured he probably flushed with sexual desire. Squeezing his eyes against the image of her, he tried to banish his wayward thoughts. No woman had ever affected him like that. Not even... "Gray? Don't fade on me again!" His eyes opened. _Myra_. That was the name. He just wasn't concentrating today. "Huh?" "You're getting pasty looking again." "No, I'm fine." He pushed himself to a sitting position, managing a smile. "Just old age setting in." She flashed her dimpled grin. "Yeah, right, you old geezer." The attack had passed, leaving him tired and a bit confused. "I'm okay now. Thanks for the coffee."

"Sure." She picked up her mug again, then turned toward the door. "I'd better get back. I borrowed Kat's moccasins to walk over here and she'll be looking for them." "Okay. Thanks for being my nurse." He suppressed a groan as soon as the words left him. Poor choice of words. _Myra_ was a nurse, _Myra_ was his, the woman he needed to focus on. The woman he now questioned as his choice of bride. Geez! Her not wanting children, and her admission about making false promises to satisfy a dying patient -- not just any patient, mind you, but his mother! -- continued to gnaw at his gut. Or was he merely looking for faults and flaws to justify his attraction to Leslie? He could no longer ignore the strength of his desire for her. It had taken every ounce of his self control not to pull her into his arms when she had bent over him. But that was simply lust. Wasn't it? Exhausted by the turmoil of emotions, Gray drifted off to sleep. The midday sun slashed through his mini-blinds, spotlighting the kitchen counter and entry step when he opened his eyes. The now-familiar _Hell fire shit_ from the neighboring campsite registered in his sleepy brain. Leslie's "ouch!" pulled him from the sofa, set his pulse into passing gear, and beckoned him to site thirteen. What calamity awaited him this time? **** Minutes later, Leslie sat on the picnic table bench with her legs across Gray's lap, her bare foot in his hands. She closed her eyes as his fingers gently probed the skin around her instep. She tried to ignore the intimacy of the scene. In his effort to pull out whatever she had imbedded in her foot, his touch both soothed and disturbed her. "Hold still." "What is it?" she asked, flinching as he yanked the object free. "A fish hook." He held up the offending metal hook for her inspection. "Rob's, I guess. It must've been buried in the carpet." "When was your last tetanus shot?" "Uh, just last year." He made no move to release her foot. Instead, he gently rubbed at the injured flesh. She tried to ignore the rush of fantasies that his ministrations triggered, of him starting at her toes and kissing his way up her naked body...

"It isn't bleeding, but we should put some antibiotic on it." "Rob showed us the first aid kit. I'll handle it." _You can turn loose of my foot now_. "Not without shoes or something to protect the wound." Her foot remained hostage under his arm while he continued his ministrations. "You aren't used to going without shoes, are you?" "No." What was he doing? His thumb massaged at her instep, rubbing tiny circles ... tiny _sensual_ circles. "But m-my boots were wet." "I know." He grinned, continuing the foot rub. "Is this helping?" Helping? Helping her into ecstasy, she thought, stifling a moan. "It's ... not hurting now, if that's what you mean." She pushed the words through clenched teeth. "Relax. Haven't you ever had a foot rub before?" "No. And I don't need one now." Her words lacked conviction. When she yanked at her foot, Gray tightened his hold. "Here's the first aid kit." Kat stepped down from the motorhome, carrying a white plastic box. "Thanks, Kat. She was about to get away." Gray grinned at Leslie and winked. "I can first-aid myself, Gray." She resisted the urge to pull her foot free, however. The pungent odor of antiseptic gel tickled her nostrils. The chilled gel should have soothed her flesh. Instead, Gray's heated touch made her forget her injured foot. Raw need tingled up her leg, coiling to her groin. Much more of this and she'd come. She'd never been this sensitive to a man's touch. His grip held, even as he stripped backing from an adhesive bandage and covered the wound. "There you go." She didn't thank him as she swung her legs from his lap. Frankly, her wicked side missed the pleasure of his caress. She had scoffed at the idea of foot fetishes and toe sex -- until now. It wouldn't have taken much more of his talented fingers to send her over the edge. Trying in vain to ignore her hormones and a body humming with arousal, she caught herself fantasizing about what else those gifted hands could do to other parts of her body. _Get a grip, Les._

Well, what did she expect? Having sworn off men and sex, she had denied herself pleasures of the flesh. It had been too long since Josh had touched her. Although, come to think of it, he had never touched her feet. Maybe if Gray hadn't been engaged to another woman she would have taken him up on that foot rub. She picked up her socks, shook them, then pulled them on. They were dry enough. She wasn't about to expose her feet to more fish hooks. Or foot massages. Kat took the first aid kit from Gray, turned to go inside the motorhome, then paused. "I'm going to make some iced tea. Anybody interested?" "Sure," Leslie murmured. After Kat disappeared inside, Gray moved closer to Leslie on the bench. Too close. His warmed unique scent teased her, drawing her. She gripped her knees, as if afraid he'd notice their quivering. "Thanks, Gray, for once again coming to my rescue." "I guess this makes us even." She laughed without humor, shaking her head. "Not even close. I didn't pick you up and carry you before rendering first aid." "Believe me, it was my pleasure." His smoldering gaze locked onto hers. "I'm sorry if you think I'm a jerk, Leslie, but I can't help what I'm feeling." She glanced down at her hands, now twisted in her lap. "No." "Yes." He reached toward her, covering her hands with his. "I have my faults, but I always shoot for honesty. I am attracted to you. It's making me crazy, and I don't know what to do about it. All I know is I have to stop this wedding..." "No! You're just having last minute..." "If one more person tells me I'm having bridegroom jitters, I'll blow a gasket." He released her hands, then rubbed his hand over his face. When he met her gaze again, anguish pulled at his eyes. "I'm a level-headed thirty-four year-old who knows his own heart. And my heart says..." "Be sure it's your heart you're thinking with. Frankly, I'm attracted to you, too. We've established that. But it's lust, Gray. Lust and curiosity." He shook his head, but didn't look away. "Simple lust I could deal with. What I'm feeling for you goes beyond curiosity or lust. I've never felt like this before."

She bit her lip to keep from echoing his words. She had never felt this way before, either, not even with Josh. Was this what Josh felt for what's-her-name? She frowned at the humiliating memory. "I see you need convincing." Gray dipped his head toward hers, then lightly grazed her lips with his. _Don't react_, her mind screamed. But resistance evaporated, along with all reason, when his mouth settled over hers. The sounds of campers driving past, of distant children shouting, and warbling birds drifted away, muted by the roar of blood rushing through her head. She closed her eyes, accepting his kiss, and moved into his embrace. He tasted so good, so right, of coffee and cream. His tongue teased at her lips, probing. Opening to him, she welcomed his exploration of her mouth. Her head spun, as if detached from her body, reeling with awareness of Gray's arousal. A jolt of raw desire rocketed through her, then pooled at the juncture of her thighs. She wanted this man, ached for him to satisfy her. With unparalleled hunger, she needed him inside her. _Now_. Gray stiffened, his lips stilled. Then he pushed away from her, peeling away the arms she didn't remember wrapping around his neck. "Well!" Opening her eyes, Leslie met the angry glare of a petite blond woman. A colorful print tunic emphasized the red splotches in each pale cheek. White pants, elasticized at the ankles, matched sensible soft-soled walkers. _Nurse attire._ Her rigid arms held a bakery box. Embarrassment flushed through Leslie as realization dawned. "I drove up here to surprise you for your birthday," the woman said, ripping open the box. "But it looks like I'm the one who got the surprise." Before either Gray or Leslie could manage a response, Gray's fiancee dumped the perfectly frosted birthday cake over his head. -------*Chapter Six* "Quick!" Leslie urged, her voice muffled by the chunk of cake crammed in his ear. "Catch her before she leaves." Gray sprang from the picnic table. "I would if I could see where the hell I'm going." He wiped at the sugary glob dripping into his eyes. Catch her before she leaves and what? he wondered. It wasn't as if he could explain away his

behavior. _Sure, Myra, I was kissing Leslie_. Kissing her? His tongue was down her throat and his body still ached from his throbbing hard-on. He reached Myra's tan Volkswagen as she started the engine. Gripping the door frame, he peered inside, shouting, "Wait! Please?" She lowered the window, glowering at him. "You better get the wild thing out of your system _before_ the wedding, sugar, 'cause I won't be tolerating infidelity." "The wild thing?" He pulled his sticky hand back before it adhered to the car, then grabbed the window. "Whatever you guys have to prove before you get married. Bachelor parties and all that." Glaring at the icing Gray's fingers smudged on her window, she put the transmission into gear. "I need to go. I'm due at work in two hours." "Myra? We need to talk. This isn't just last minute..." "I don't want to hear your excuses, Grayson Webster." "Excuses?" He yanked his fingers from the window as she raised it. "Wait! Myra..." She spun the tires in the loose gravel, then fishtailed the VW down the park road. He ran a sticky hand through dust-filled icing now caked in his hair. _Damn_. He slunk from the road to his camper, risking a quick glance at site thirteen. Leslie had disappeared, not that he blamed her. What a scene. The bakery box lay discarded on the ground. Remains of a yellow birthday cake littered the picnic table. He'd have to clean up later, after his shower. He turned on the water heater, but didn't wait for it to take the chill off the water. He stripped out of his sticky clothes, leaving them in a pile in the narrow hallway. Stepping into the bathroom, he leaned into the shower and turned on the faucet. In spite of Myra's attack, his aroused body still throbbed from Leslie's kiss. A cold shower suited him fine. What a birthday. **** "I cleaned up the mess from the cake," Kat announced, bouncing inside the motorhome. Leslie slumped over the notebook on the dinette. "That's nice. But you should've left it for Gray." Kat set two paper plates with egg salad sandwiches on the table. "Look, I

know why you're disgusted with the guy, and I don't blame you. But don't let him spoil our vacation." _Disgusted_ with him? If only that were the case, Leslie thought, biting down hard on her lip. Shame washed over her as she relived the embarrassment of Gray's fiancee catching them in a kiss. Actually, it had been more than mere kissing, which only worsened the humiliation. Poor Myra. "What do you mean, you don't blame me?" Kat slid onto the opposite dinette bench, then picked up one of the sandwiches. "I, er, saw him kissing you." Leslie closed her eyes and groaned. "You mean, you saw me kissing him back, practically crawling into his lap." "Well, that, too. Here I thought he was a nice guy, making me tea and acting all concerned." She waved her hand as if swatting a fly. "He's no better than Josh." "Hmm. I can't argue." She reached for a sandwich. "But don't hold me blameless. I know he's engaged, yet look at my behavior." "He's still a creep." Instead of biting into the sandwich, Leslie chewed at her lip, still savoring the taste of Gray. She struggled in vain to think of the man as a creep. "He can't be trusted, but what guy can?" "Besides Rob." "Besides Rob, of course. Still, he is an incredible kisser." Kat's eyes narrowed. "When did you kiss Rob?" "I meant Gray." "You aren't thinking of using him for sex, are you?" Leslie choked out a laugh at Kat's bluntness. "Well, why not? Men use women for sex all the time." "Because I know you. It could never be just sex. This guy'll destroy you, just like Josh." "Destroy me?" Is that what had happened? Had she _allowed_ Josh's betrayal to destroy her? "No! I refuse to ever give a man that power again." Kat grimaced. "Don't yell at me. You'll give me a headache." "I'm sorry. Speaking of headache, tell me how you're feeling. Do you really

think you're pregnant?" A smile twitched at her sister's mouth. "Maybe. Rob's going to swing by later with one of those home pregnancy tests." "So he knows?" "I told him last night that I needed the test. He was ready to go out and buy cigars, the silly man." She swallowed another bite of sandwich. "I'm happy for you, Kat. Whether or not you're preggars, it's great having a guy so in love with you." "Yeah." Kat sighed and mugged a starry-eyed face, making Leslie laugh. "He's a lucky guy, too." Kat's expression sobering, she reached across the table, then squeezed Leslie's arm. "Your turn will come." Leslie shook her head. "I don't think so." "Don't give up. You'll meet your Mr. Right someday." "Are you sure Rob doesn't have an older brother you haven't told me about?" Kat sighed. "I wish he did, honey. An older version of Rob is exactly what you need." But Leslie couldn't conjure up an image of an older Rob Hupp. Her rebellious mind focused only on the blue-eyed hunk with the thick brown hair and sexy mouth. She choked down the rest of her sandwich, then took a swig of iced tea. "Exactly what I need is a flash of inspiration for my next Sunny Madison mystery." "What do you have so far?" She flipped to a clean page in her notebook. "I was going to have a wedding interrupted with a murder, but I haven't decided on the killer, victim, or how the suspect is tied to Sunny." "Make Sunny the bride, then kill off her fiance." "Not bad, Kat. Let me play around with that." Leslie tapped her pen against her chin. "Since she didn't have a love interest at the end of _Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Dead_, it'll have to be a sudden romance. I'm not sure I can pull that off." "Sure you can. You can have a lot of time pass since the end of the last book."

"I could name her fiance 'Peter.' I'll title it _Peter, Peter, Bullet Eater_." "See? Now you're rockin'!" The creative juices weren't exactly flowing, but at least they dribbled. Leslie reached for her notebook, then scribbled the title. The sounds of a truck motor and tires digging into gravel outside the motorhome interrupted her notes. Kat jumped from the seat. "Great. There's the _Hupp Mobile_." "I'll give you two privacy and move outside." She gathered her periodicals, notebook, and pen, then scooted from the dinette. "Hi, Leslie." Rob stood outside the door, waiting as she stepped down from the motorhome. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Rob. Kat made extra sandwiches if you're hungry." "No, thanks. I brought my own." He held up a Wendy's sack. His other hand clutched a discount store bag, which probably held the pregnancy test. She tried seeing Rob through her sister's eyes. About the same height and build as Gray, Rob had a perfect smile revealing perfect teeth. His perfect nose and sexy gray eyes framed by perfect thick eyebrows that matched his perfectly styled light brown hair gave him the appearance of ... well, _perfection_. She preferred Gray's uneven nose and tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. Though both men were hunks, Gray's minor flaws magnified his masculinity. Waving Rob inside, Leslie gave herself a mental head-shake. To compare her brother-in-law to Gray was a waste of time. She may as well have been comparing Ben Affleck to Brad Pitt. She heard the door close behind Rob, followed by the unmistakable click of the deadbolt, not that Leslie would have intruded. She settled at the picnic table, then jotted down notes and ideas. But her mind shifted to the man in site twelve. She hadn't seen him all afternoon, not since he'd run to catch his fiancee. In spite of her misgivings, she worried about him. His attack earlier had alarmed her. Did he have ulcers? He had claimed his pain was psychosomatic. What had he meant? Before her brain overrode her impulse, she threaded her way through the brush to Gray's motorhome. After a second or two of hesitation, she knocked on the door. Gray pushed open the door with one hand while he rubbed at his hair with a beach towel.

"Leslie. Come in." The vision of Gray's body flooded her senses. Her legs wouldn't budge. Speech deserted her. Staring, she took in his bare torso. She swallowed, fighting the impulse to run her hands through the dark hair that peppered his damp skin. Clenching her hands, she pulled her wayward gaze from the waistband of his gray sweat shorts. _Get a grip, Les_! "Leslie?" This time his voice seemed less steady. Hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Uh, I was just getting dressed." Ignoring raw, masculine sex was impossible. "Maybe I'd better wait out here." He motioned her inside. "No, I won't take long." She stepped inside his motorhome, pulling the door closed behind her. He hurried to the small bedroom in the rear of the coach. He returned a minute later tugging a pullover over his head. "Sit down." He gestured toward the sofa. "It's warming up. I turned on the air conditioning." It's definitely heating up, she thought, as he settled beside her on the couch. "I just wanted to see if you were all right." "I'm fine." His mouth curved at one corner, forming a lopsided smile. "No cake injuries." "I meant..." She covered her face with her hands, groaning. "Oh, Gray, what a horrible scene! I -- I feel rotten." "Listen." He pulled her hands away from her face, but didn't let go. "There's something I need to tell you." She liked having him hold her hands, darn it. Nevertheless, she pulled them free from his grasp. "About what?" "About Myra. Right before you came over with coffee, I'd had a disturbing conversation with her. I learned that she'd deceived me. Deceived my mother. It wasn't really a fight. I guess I was too stunned to fight." "I see." "What do you mean?" "You were getting even by kissing me." "No!"

Leslie jumped at his outburst. Then she remembered how ill he had been when she had arrived with the coffee. It wasn't her business what he and Myra had argued about, but his pain worried her. "Okay. You want to tell me about it?" "Yeah." He sighed. "I really need to talk. But first understand this. I kissed you because I wanted to. It's between you and me. It has nothing to do with Myra, except that you make me forget there is a Myra." "I think we'd do well to remember Myra." She met his misery-filled gaze and sighed. "So, talk." "Remember I told you my mother practically hand-picked Myra for me?" "You said your mom played matchmaker." Gray nodded. "Mom really wanted me to have a wife and family. She worried that I'd become like ... well, like my dad. A workaholic. It made her so happy when Myra and I told her we were engaged." He'd already told her this. "So, where does the deception come in?" "Myra admitted she had told my mother whatever she wanted to hear because she was dying. Myra has no intention of starting a family. She doesn't want kids." Leslie stifled a gasp. "And she just told you this today?" "Yeah. And not voluntarily. I had to push the issue to get her to even talk about it." "Excuse me, but isn't this a bit late in the game for the two of you to explore your expectations of marriage?" "But we _had_ talked. Myra claimed to want the same things I did." Leslie met his gaze. "So tell me what part of all this bothers you. The fact Myra lied to your mother or the fact that she doesn't want children?" "Damnation, both things bother me." She wanted to jump to Myra's defense, but how could she? Trust and honesty were vital in a relationship. She'd seen how the earlier confrontation had left Gray doubled over with abdominal pain. Undoubtedly, seeing him lip-locked with another woman had brought the earlier quarrel to a head. "Now what?" she asked. "She's not talking to me right now." "Imagine that."

He frowned. "I tried. I need to call this wedding off. There are too many warning buzzers going off inside my head." "Are you sure it's..." "Don't you dare say last minute jitters, Leslie." "All right." She sighed, pulling her gaze away from his. "Do you think Myra will call off the wedding? I mean, well ... after today?" _After watching us engrossed in the mother of all kisses?_ "Not a chance. She just warned me to get it out of my system before the wedding, as if I did nothing more than stay out too late playing poker." "What?" She whipped her head around to face him again. "My reaction, too, babe. I don't care how big a jerk you think I am, I do not think kissing you when I'm engaged to marry her is normal behavior. It isn't something to get out of my system." "I agree you shouldn't feel attraction for someone else if you're in love with her." She stopped, letting the unasked question hang between them. _Was_ he in love with Myra? And what about Myra? Leslie couldn't imagine ignoring a fiance who strayed, even if it were only a kiss, unless ... maybe Myra didn't love him. Leslie didn't dare suggest this to Gray. It was none of her business. But if Myra didn't love him, then the wedding _would_ be a mistake, just as Gray feared. Gray scrubbed his face with both hands. "I thought I was in love with her. But what if my decision to get married was a product of my grief over Mom?" "I'm in no position to advise you. I've been spared the grief of losing a parent, or any close family member. As for love, I thought I was in love with Josh, too. What do I know?" He raised his head. "He really did a number on you, didn't he?" "Huh! Josh was just the last in a long line." She snorted, shaking her head. "What do you mean?" "I mean I have a lousy track record. Starting with Jerry McAdams in eleventh grade, then Miles Bloom, then Skip Sellers in college, then Barry Mazur -every guy I ever dated ended up cheating on me. I think it's part of the male chromosome." "That's harsh. Would you want me to judge _you_ based on Marilyn Moser?"

"Who's Marilyn Moser?" He patted the left side of his chest. "She broke my heart in ninth grade. Claimed to be my girl, then dumped me for the Junior Varsity quarterback." Leslie smiled. "No, please don't put me in the same class as that heartless bitch." Gray laughed, a contagious belly laugh that broke the tension. "I rest my case." "I suppose I'm guilty of stereotyping ... just a little." "You said you _thought_ you were in love with Josh. Were you?" "I've given that question more hours of thought than you can imagine." "And?" "He hurt me, he humiliated me. He disappointed me. Would he have had that power over me if I hadn't loved him?" She shook her head, not really expecting an answer. "Myra has disappointed me, too. But right now I'm just frustrated and mad." "You need to talk to somebody else, Gray. I'm not qualified to advise you." "Maybe not." He touched her chin with his forefinger, turning her head to face him. "You are, nevertheless, a good listener. Thanks for letting me vent." She swallowed, unable to pull her gaze from his. Those gorgeous blue eyes darkened into smoldering sapphires. Undeniable passion sizzled between them. The kiss interrupted by Myra had left them with unfinished business, behavior her body seemed eager to resume. She schooled her voice for a lightness she didn't feel. "Hey, what are friends for?" "Is that what we are? Friends?" His soft-spoken words caressed her. She knew he wanted to kiss her, just as she knew she'd let him. Worse, she yearned for him to. But he didn't. He stood, then paced the small galley, leaving her bereft and wanting. "Maybe that's it." The frown in his voice drew her attention. "Huh?" What was he talking about? "Maybe friendship is what is lacking in marriage. It's not a question of romantic love. That's probably a myth, anyway."

"Try telling that to Rob and Kat." He crossed his arms over his chest. "They do seem happy." "They are." Leslie considered Kat's marriage, the genuine affection she witnessed between her sister and Rob. "You could be right about the friendship angle. Kat and Rob are each other's best friend." "They share the same interests?" She nodded. "Including sex. They seem as hot for each other now as they were on their wedding day." "In other words, you see their marriage as a successful merger of friendship and lust." "You make it sound like a business partnership." Her mind flitted briefly to a charity autograph party held at a national writers conference. She'd met the psychologist who'd authored a popular book instructing you how to make someone fall in love with you. The woman struck Leslie as cynical and calculating. "Marriage _is_ a business partnership, Leslie. That isn't a bad thing, though." "No, but it seems cold. There has to be a deep emotional commitment. You really don't believe in love?" Crossing his ankles, he leaned against the dinette. "Do you?" "Absolutely." She realized Gray hadn't answered her question. "But maybe you're right. Maybe love isn't what makes a successful marriage." "I never said that. I said it's not enough." He ran his hand over his face, as she'd seen him do before when frustrated. "Or maybe I said you can't have love without friendship." "If you aren't in love with Myra, why did your quarrel leave you physically ill?" "I'd question myself if that had been my first attack. But it wasn't." Expelling a long breath, he dropped onto the sofa. "When did you suffer your first attack?" "After I got here." He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. "I had just hung up from talking with Myra." "Had you disagreed? Argued?" He shook his head. "No."

"Nothing about the call upset you?" "Nothing. She had been in a hurry, so we didn't talk long." A quizzical frown creased his face. "I remember thinking..." "What is it?" Goosebumps prickled the flesh on Gray's skin, as if the air conditioning chilled him. His olive skin paled. "Gray?" "A lifetime together," he murmured. "What?" He squeezed his eyes shut. "Whenever I think about spending the rest of my life with Myra, I ... I panic." "I know you said you didn't want to hear this, but that sounds like classic..." "...pre-wedding jitters." "Yes." She touched his arm, unprepared for the jolt of awareness from the simple gesture of comfort. "I'll be your sounding board, your friend. But I can't advise you. You're going to have to make up your mind, and soon. Only you can decide if you want to share the rest of your life with Myra or call off the wedding." "What about us?" He covered her hand with his where she touched his arm. "I can't deny how I feel about you." She pulled away, bolting toward the door. "No. If your feelings about your wedding are confused because of me, we need to stay away from each other." She pushed open the door. "Leslie, wait." Something in his voice stopped her. Or maybe some part of her didn't want to flee. She took a step back, turning to face him. His eyes darkening, he seared her with the intensity of his gaze. Gone was the anguish lining his face, replaced by a new emotion, a combination of serenity and determination. Sliding from the sofa, he crowded her against the door frame. He reached past her, pulled the door shut, then twisted the lock. "Please don't go." His breath fanned her face, spreading a blanket of warmth over her. He stroked the line of her jaw with his knuckles. Closing her eyes against the

onslaught of sensations, she suppressed a moan. She hated her weakness, her mutinous body. How could she be strong and do the right thing when her hormones screamed for Gray to take her? "Don't you see, Leslie? There's no way in hell I can marry Myra when I want you so much." -------*Chapter Seven* As if a cloud had lifted, Gray knew what he must do. He would break his engagement with Myra. He would move out of her apartment. But first, he'd make wild, unforgettable love with Leslie. Enveloping her slender figure in his arms, he pulled her against his body. A longing besieged him, a powerful need to possess her unlike any emotion he'd ever felt for a woman. Including Myra. It frightened him. It excited him. He knew in his gut a one-time fling with Leslie wouldn't be enough. He breathed in the clean scent of her hair as he embraced her. His need to simply hold her overpowered his sexual need. He didn't analyze his emotions. He just savored the feel of her in his arms, overwhelmed with a sense of rightness. Belonging. _Home_. Leslie seemed to have other plans. She ran her fingers over his shirt, pressing into his chest, then his back. On tiptoes, she planted light kisses at his throat, inching her way toward his mouth. He met her lips in a gentle kiss, but she demanded more. Deepening the kiss, she pulled him under, drowning him with an onslaught of sensations. His libido on full alert now, he moved his hands lower to pull her firm hips closer, bringing their bodies into intimate contact. He ground his erection into her pelvis, leaving no question about his need. Her answering moan tore at his control. It took all his strength to lift his mouth from hers, but he had to slow it down. Leslie's pleasure came before his own. He had to show her this was more than sex. "Damn it, Gray, take me to bed before I lose my nerve." He crushed his lips to hers and maneuvered her toward the back of the coach. They collapsed onto the bed without breaking the kiss. Leslie slipped her hands beneath his shirt, her touch igniting his flesh. He fumbled with the snaps on her blouse, pulling the fabric until it threatened to tear. When he broke the kiss and pulled back to remove her clothes, Leslie groaned in protest. She yanked at his waistband, then dipped her hand inside to touch

his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut against the explosion of raw need. Her impatience pushed him to the brink and he feared he'd come right then. "Slow down, baby." She sought his mouth, drawing him into a deep hungry kiss. "Don't make me wait." Another kiss. "Don't give me time to think." Absorbed in kissing her, he didn't know he had disposed of her shirt and bra. Suddenly his hand cupped the silky flesh of one of her firm tits. His thumb teased the rosy nipple to a rigid peak. Her murmurs of pleasure rewarded him, urging him to give both breasts equal pleasure. He pulled away from Leslie's lips, then ravished one stiffened tip with his mouth. Her skin tasted of sunshine and a hint of baby powder. She arched her back in invitation, her hand firmly wrapped around his swollen flesh. His mouth filled with her delicate crest, he fought the urge to grit his teeth. He lifted his head. "You need to stop that, honey, or I won't last another minute." She gulped a shaky breath. "Do you have anything?" Grinning, he leaned back on his elbow, then gently pulled her hand from his shorts. "Do you mean disease? Or protection?" "Protection." She met his gaze. Her lips swollen from kissing, her eyelids heavy with passion, she gave him a drowsy smile. He'd never seen a more desirable woman. He nodded, then reached into the bedside cabinet for the box of condoms. They'd never been opened. He had bought them months ago, planning to take Myra on weekend outings in the motorhome. She had vetoed the idea, expressing no interest in RVs or the great outdoors. Something in his expression must have betrayed his thoughts. Leslie's eyes clouded, her smile fading. His breath caught as if he'd taken a punch in the gut. "Leslie?" She closed her eyes. Her body seemed to sink into the mattress, withdrawing from him. He brushed his lips against her temple, then her cheek. No response. "I swear I've never made love in this bed with Myra, if that's what you're thinking." She shook her head, a slight movement he almost missed, then opened her eyes. Her dilated pupils darkening even more, she gave him a tremulous but

unconvincing smile. Snatching the box of condoms from his hand, she pulled out one foil packet. "How about less talk and more action, Gray." Nothing would please him more. He yearned to bury himself inside her warm flesh. His aroused condition ached for release. But more was at stake here than satisfying his body's demands. If he claimed Leslie, made her his, he couldn't leave room for regrets or doubts. Her earlier words played inside his head. _Take me to bed before I lose my nerve. _ _Don't give me time to think._ She peeled open the foil wrapper, then reached for his waistband. He gripped her wrist, stopping her. "Wait." She stared at his fingers wrapped around her wrist, frowning. "I thought you wanted this." "Oh, yeah. I want this. I want you." If he told her how much, she'd be as scared as he. "But do you?" Her chuckle sounded forced. "Isn't it obvious?" "Look at me." He waited until her gaze lifted to his face. "This isn't going to happen if you're going to have regrets." She averted her gaze. "Don't make this more than it is." "Which is...?" "A roll in the hay." She pursed her lips. "Look. I can accept that." He bit back an angry retort. The words didn't match the resignation in her face. She may imply this was only sex, but her eyes told a different story. Through the haze of desire, he saw something else. Shame? He'd bet his next paycheck she identified with Myra, the soon-to-be-jilted bride. He pulled her into his embrace, closing his eyes against the vision of her bare tits and sexy, ripe body. "I can wait, sweetheart." "Wait?" His shoulder muffled her voice. "Yes. I want you in my bed free of doubts and guilt. Neither of us is there yet." ****

The late afternoon sun lost its struggle to penetrate the dense foliage surrounding the picnic table. Shivering, Leslie abandoned her writing to the fading light. Her camp shirt and jeans no longer warm enough, she regretted leaving her jacket inside. She didn't want to disturb Kat and Rob, still sequestered in the motorhome. And she couldn't return to Gray's, not after her earlier humiliation. Gathering up her notebook and pen, she huffed a sigh of disgust. How could she have thrown herself at him so wantonly, only to be rejected? Remembering his powerful response to her, she had to admit it wasn't rejection. With her stomach tied in knots and her breathing asthmatic, she'd been a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. But did he have to be so damn noble? She'd never known a man to turn down sex when so eagerly offered, a man who showed such concern for her feelings. In truth, she couldn't be angry, or disappointed. His admirable restraint gave her one more reason to love ... No! Not _love_, Les. _Like_. She had one more reason to _like_ him. Kat had warned her about using the man for sex. Leslie had believed she could survive a meaningless fling. She'd had every intention of having wild, glorious sex with Gray. But he continued to share himself with her, to make her care about him. That wouldn't work. Maybe he wasn't Josh the Jerk, but the scenario was the same: he was dumping his fiancee right before the wedding because he'd met someone else. The motorhome door swung open, interrupting her train of thought. Kat stepped outside, followed by Rob. Leslie didn't need to ask about the results of the pregnancy test. Both her sister and Rob glowed with satisfaction. Of course, they usually looked like that after a few hours' privacy. "I need to get my jacket." Leslie brushed past them into the motorhome. She threw her notebook and pen on the dinette, then opened the overhead cabinet to rummage through her clothes. The nylon windbreaker lay on the bottom of the stack. As she pulled it free, she heard the low murmur of Kat and Rob talking, filtered through the ceiling vent. She froze when a third voice joined theirs. _Gray's_. She'd stay inside until he went away. Cowardly but necessary. She just didn't have the emotional stamina to face him, not when her body still ached for him. Just thinking about his mouth on her breast aroused her. Flushed with heat, she ditched the jacket. "Leslie?" Kat called from the doorway. "Come on. We're all going in to Gainesville to eat."

"We _all_?" "Yes. We're taking Gray out for his birthday and to celebrate." "Celebrate." Leslie tamped down her misgivings about spending time with Gray, instead focusing on her sister. "I suppose that means you have news." Kat leaned across the threshold, sticking her head inside. "Yes." She lowered her voice. "You're going to be an aunt." Leslie swallowed the unbidden lump clogging her throat. Kat's smile, radiant and happy, pushed aside Leslie's earlier mood. "I'm so happy for you." "Hey, don't cry." Kat scrambled into the motorhome, rushing to her sister's side. She wrapped an arm across Leslie's shoulders. "I'm the one whose emotions are supposed to be out of whack. Not you." Leslie slipped her arms around Kat, then squeezed her. "This is a very special moment, that's all. I'm allowed to cry happy tears for my only sister." "Okay, but enough! I don't handle your tears well, whatever the cause." A strained silence followed. Leslie knew her sister well enough to hear the unspoken warning. _Don't get involved with Gray_. Josh had caused enough tears to be shed. Kat wouldn't look forward to a repeat performance. "I'll just be a minute." Leslie disentangled herself, nodding toward the bathroom. "Let me wash my face." "Good idea. We'll wait for you in the _Hupp Mobile_." Leslie stared into the mirror over the miniature lavatory and examined her blotchy face. Damage control was a lost cause. "Quit stalling, Les. You might as well face him." **** A few minutes later, Gray held open the back door to the Hupp's Ford Explorer for Leslie, enjoying the view of her snug jeans hugging her ass as she climbed inside. She averted her eyes, even when he slid into the seat from the other side. Ooh, boy. Talk about awkward. After they had ridden as far as the main gate, Kat turned in her seat to face them. "Where shall we go?". Leslie shrugged. "Anywhere's fine. You pick." Rob glanced into the rearview mirror. "Let Gray pick, since it's his birthday." Gray cringed at the birthday reference. He didn't care where they ate, as long

as he could be with Leslie. "How about that chain restaurant that's right beside the 985 ramp? Something-or-other Bar and Grille." "Hey! One of my favorites," Rob agreed. "The food's always good at ol' Something-or-other's." Everyone laughed at that. Even after Kat supplied the correct name of the restaurant, she and Rob continued to refer to "Something-or-other." The strain between Gray and Leslie eased. She met his gaze, favoring him with a quick view of The Dimple. He folded his hands together to keep from reaching for her. The impulse to simply hold hands consumed him. The expression "can't keep his hands off her" took on new meaning. He truly wanted to touch her. Constantly. Damn. He needed to clear up the marriage business with Myra immediately. With each passing hour since he'd seen her, he had grown more and more certain of the wisdom of canceling the wedding. His heart twisted in guilt when his thoughts traveled to his mother and her dying wish. He had promised her to marry. But had he promised to marry _Myra_? His mother wanted Myra for him, but did she really know the woman? Too bad she couldn't meet Leslie. Absorbed in his thoughts, he missed pieces of the conversation around him until Kat twisted in her seat and pierced him with a critical stare. "Hello? Earth to Gray." "Sorry." "No problem, man," Rob said. "I heard you had a hard day." "You have no idea how hard it's been," Gray muttered. Leslie's face turned pink. "The day, I mean. How hard the _day_ has been." _Great. Get yourself out of this one, Webster._ Kat and Rob shared a low conversation, oblivious to Gray's embarrassment. "You're blushing," Leslie whispered. "You are, too." "Don't worry. They're in their own little world. We're forgotten back here." Good. Or was it? At least with Rob and Kat he hadn't needed to worry about doing or saying the right thing with Leslie. "When in doubt, be honest" was his motto.

"I don't want this uneasiness between us, Leslie." "I -- I know." He ached to touch her. Surely one light touch wouldn't hurt. Just one finger. He tapped her nose, then her chin, using the finger to turn her face toward his. "Friends above all else. Remember?" "Okay." She sighed, then smiled. Almost. "I can do _friends_." _Friends_. Yeah, right. After the long drive into Gainesville, Gray followed the Hupps and Leslie into the restaurant. A polished brass rail encircled a center bar as well as the sections of dining areas. Bold pink and green striped fabric on the seats matched the tabbed curtains, accented with colorful Tiffany lamps hung low over each table. Not one to pay attention to decorating details, Gray found himself attuned to everything around him. Every chink of a drink glass, every polished wooden table, every delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen. Most of all, he was aware of every nuance of Leslie. Her scent, her nervousness, her voice drew him like an electromagnet. Once seated at their table, he learned that Rob and Kat Hupp had a contagious happiness about them that drew others into their clowning and repartee. Even Leslie seemed to relax. "Kat tells me you're a nearly-wed, Gray," Rob said. "How many more weeks?" "Two." He didn't bother to change the couple's impression. Until he talked to Myra, it seemed disloyal to tell others of his change of heart. _Nearly-wed_ took on a more ominous meaning, "Am I ever glad that's over for us." Rob locked an arm around Kat's neck, pulling her close for a quick kiss. "The marriage is much easier than the wedding." "Is that so?" Gray looked up at the young African-American waitress at his elbow. A pink and green apron enveloped her thin body. "Hi. I'm Keneesha and I'll be your server. What beverages can I bring you?" she asked, all in one breath. They ordered. She jotted down two sweet teas, one unsweetened tea, and a diet cola. "Are y'all together?" Rob laughed. "I wouldn't say any of us are all together, but put it on one ticket and give it to me."

Keneesha didn't seem to get Rob's joke, but smiled anyway before scurrying away. Kat rolled her eyes at what was probably an old line from Rob's repertoire. "I hope you aren't having one of those theme weddings, Gray," Rob said. "Ours was _Gone With The Wind_, which accurately describes the wedding budget." Gray met Leslie's smile, remembering her account of her sister's wedding extravaganza. "Wedding budgets do have a way of running amok." "The wedding industry is like the funeral industry." Rob said, gathering speed. "Money is no object for the one you love. And feel guilty if you try to cut corners. Never mind you'll spend your first twenty years of marriage paying off the wedding bills." "Unless you let your parents pay for everything, which Leslie and I refuse to do," Kat added. Keneesha arrived with their beverages, served the unsweetened tea to Kat and Rob instead of the sweet tea and diet cola. After a brief discussion, they swapped their glasses with Gray's and Leslie's. "I apologize. This is my first week here." Gray figured it was her first week anywhere. The young woman looked all of sixteen and nervous as a cat inside the dog pound. "Don't worry, Keneesha. We're going to be the best customers you have all day. Right, guys?" Kat, Leslie, and Rob nodded. "Right," they repeated in unison. Keneesha's smile appeared more skeptical than relieved. The four of them would have to convince her, Gray decided. After they'd ordered, Keneesha hurried away. Leslie picked up the thread of their conversation. "I thought I was thrifty and sensible about my wedding plans, but still came up against hidden costs. You wouldn't believe!" "What hidden costs?" he asked. "For instance, who ever heard of a corking fee?" Leslie paused for a sip of tea. "A corking fee?" Gray frowned. "That's the charge for uncorking the bottles of wine." Leslie rolled her eyes. "They assumed I'd buy wine in corked bottles." They all laughed, including Leslie, who seemed unselfconscious about discussing her canceled wedding.

"Not only is a wedding a ton of money," Kat added, "it's a ton of work. And it's all on the bride's shoulders." "Honey, that's not true. I did my share." Rob winked at Gray. Gray swallowed a drink of iced tea. "Did you ever consider eloping?" Kat gave an emphatic "no" at the same time Rob said "yes." Keneesha interrupted their laughter with 2 pitchers of iced tea. "You guys sound like you're having too much fun at this table," she whispered. "Sure you're drinking nothin' but tea?" Gray winked at her. "If we get too rowdy, distract the bouncer, will you? We don't want to get thrown out." "Again," Rob added. At Keneesha's wrinkling forehead, he added, "Just kidding. We'll behave." "Promise?" Keneesha asked, grinning. "I think she's got your number, Rob," Leslie said after the server left. After a delicious meal and excellent service, Gray folded his napkin and placed it beside his empty platter. "I'm throwing in the towel." "Gee, you better ask Keneesha for a doggie bag," Leslie teased. "A doggy bag?" Keneesha repeated as she swooped up the empty dishes. "Looks to me like he licked his plate clean." Rob lowered his voice, leaning toward her. "He's always doing that. We've threatened to stop eating out with the guy if he doesn't stop." Leslie and Kat pretended outrage at Rob's remark, then burst into giggles. Their easy-going acceptance of him flooded Gray with pleasure. Keneesha placed her hand on the back of his chair. "Since he was good and cleaned his plate, he can have dessert. I hope all of you saved room." "I can't eat another bite," Kat groaned. Rob leaned toward his wife, touching her forehead with his. "Not even a bite of my hot fudge brownie sundae?" Keneesha nodded, acknowledging Rob's order, then gave Leslie and Gray an expectant grin. "None for me." Leslie dazzled him with The Dimple. "How about it, Gray? You should indulge on your birthday."

His gaze locked with hers. The restaurant noise faded, replaced by a low hum. Struggling to find his voice, he could only stare at Leslie's vibrant eyes, with glints of light splashing in pools of liquid brown. Thick-lashed shutters lowered, robbing him of the view. The dimple vanished. "How about some cake, Gray?" Kat's chide dragged him back to reality. "Yeah, I hear you really enjoy cake," Rob added. "Rob!" Leslie's frown of concern reached deep inside Gray's soul, giving him another reason to care about her. He burst out laughing, amazed he could view the afternoon's birthday cake fiasco with humor. "Do you have red velvet cake, Keneesha?" The young server frowned. "Let me check. I'll be right back." Minutes later, the entire restaurant staff gathered around Gray, leading all the diners in singing _Happy Birthday_, much to his embarrassment. Keneesha placed a piece of red velvet cake sporting a single burning candle in front of him. "Make a wish and blow out the candle," Leslie urged him. The way she said "blow" did funny things to his groin. Ooh, boy. He needed to get his mind off blow jobs and Leslie. But it was his birthday and his wish, right? Did Leslie have any idea she was the target of his birthday wish, Gray wondered, as he pulled his gaze from her lips and drew in a deep breath. -------*Chapter Eight* Leslie expected darkness when they filed out of the restaurant, heading toward Rob's SUV, not blackness. Nine o'clock in May was typically dark. A thick cloud cover blocked all sources of light from the galaxy, leaving only the mercury vapor lamps in the parking lot. Misty haloes muted their normally harsh brightness. Gray opened her door for her, then disappeared. Rob slid behind the wheel, started the engine, then flicked the electric door locks. "Wait! Where's Gray?" she asked. Rob unlocked the doors while peering through the windshield. "Over there." "Oh, isn't that sweet?" Kat pointed toward a sedan parked by the entrance. Leslie leaned forward, then saw what Kat saw. Gray stood beside a

middle-aged woman dressed in church clothes. He helped her stow a wheelchair into the trunk of her car. Leslie had seen the woman's companion, an elderly woman in a wheelchair, leave several minutes earlier. "There aren't many chivalrous guys like that left in the world." Kat shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry I called him a creep." "He's calling off the wedding," Leslie blurted. "He needs to." Rob swiveled in his seat to face her. "The guy is ga-ga over you, Les. Anyone can see it." "Hush. Here he comes." Gray opened the door, scooted onto the seat, then apologized for making them wait. Did he have to keep doing things to raise her estimation of him? The generous tip he'd insisted on leaving the novice server, assisting the elderly lady with her wheelchair touched her where she didn't want to be touched. She needed to remember Josh. She needed to remember her vow to avoid any more opportunities for heartache. No more guys. Like Kat would say, _as if_! Now as they merged onto 985 North, Rob's words haunted her. _The guy is ga-ga over you, Les_. She didn't welcome encouragement, no matter how it stroked her bruised ego. She hated the secret thrill ballooning inside her, a growing bubble that refused to deflate. Gray's hand nudged her elbow. "Leslie?" "Sorry." She nearly jumped from the jolt of his touch. "I wasn't listening." "She's probably plotting." Kat laughed from the front seat. "And what are you plotting?" "A murder." Kat's face, illuminated only from the fiber optic dash lighting, beamed with mischief. Leslie grinned as Gray shrank back to his side of the vehicle. "Dare I ask _whose_ murder?" "Let me tell him!" Kat managed to turn completely around, despite her seat harness. "Peter's." "Peter?" Leslie cringed. "I really don't like to discuss a plot unless we're brainstorming, Kat."

"Sorry." "What the hell are you two talking about?" Rob laughed. "Don't worry, pal. Leslie only kills people with her keyboard. I thought you knew." "It didn't come up." Leslie wished Rob would take the hint and change the subject. Even after the success of two books, she was reluctant to talk about her profession, as if afraid she'd jinx it. Kat didn't take the hint, either. "Peter is the victim in the next Sunny Madison mystery." "Sunny Madison? I just finished _Mary Had A Little Gun_. Wait a sec. You don't mean ... you're P.G. Turner?" "None other." Kat grinned. "Check the copyright page, Gray. It'll say 'Leslie Paige Turner.'" "Wow. I'm a fan of yours." Gray twisted in the seat, facing her, no longer fearing for his life. "I read the first Sunny Madison, too. _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Knife_. Isn't there a new one coming out this summer?" "_Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Dead_." "What are you, Kat: My publicist?" "Just a proud sister." Kat shrugged, then turned toward the front. "You're too modest." "I thought you were a college teacher." "I am. I'm no Tom Clancy. I still need to make enough to pay the bills." "So tell me about Peter." "Sorry." Not. "You'll have to wait and read the book." "Here we are." Rob pulled up to the gate, lowered his window, then punched in the code to the lock. Leslie glanced out the window, barely making out the Lake Helen Campground sign in the darkness. A companionable silence drifted over the four as Rob drove back to their loop. Talking about her mystery series had been a pleasant diversion from her awareness of Gray -- not that she was any less aware of the sexy hunk sitting beside her. At the campsite, Leslie hurried from the Explorer, hoping to give Kat a moment of privacy to tell Rob good night. Gray sped to her side of the SUV, then blocked her way.

"Not so fast. I want you to come over to my RV a minute." "I don't think that's a good..." "Just for a minute. I have a copy of _Mary Had A Little Gun_ I'd like autographed." His smile penetrating the darkness, he drew her toward him like a sorcerer. When he held out his hand, she automatically placed hers in it, relishing the feel of his warm, tapered fingers closed over her skin. Hands clasped, they stumbled their way through the inky night to campsite twelve. **** The naturalness of holding Leslie's hand evaporated the moment she stepped inside his motorhome and pulled free of his grasp. Gray suppressed his disappointment, determined to regain ground with her. "Is your name really Leslie _Paige_ Turner?" She stood by the door, poised to escape. "My dad's sense of humor. Mom insisted on the 'Leslie' part." "He reads mysteries?" "Thrillers." Gray lifted the cushion from the dinette bench, rummaged through the storage bin below, then pulled out the paperback. "Here it is. Just let me find a pen." "I have one." She unzipped her leather purse, pulled out a Bic, then reached for the book. "Why don't you publish as Paige Turner?" She rolled her eyes. "As if! Besides, Paige is a feminine name and my publisher prefers initials." "Like J.A. Jance or P.D. James?" She waited to answer until she had scribbled on the title page. Gray couldn't decipher upside-down writing. He'd read it after she left, which judging from her body language would be any minute. "Yes." Smacking the book closed, she handed it back to him. "Well, I need to go." "Why?" His gaze held hers. "I just want to talk." "About?"

He shrugged. "I'm interested in your writing. I love to read mysteries and I enjoyed both of yours." She inched toward the door. "Thanks." "So tell me more about the Sunny Madison character." "You want to know about the next book, and I'm not telling." She lost her battle to contain a smile, rewarding him with a glimpse of her killer dimple. Making a show of sitting at the dinette, he gestured toward the sofa. "Sit for a minute? I promise not to pump you, uh, for plot secrets." If she caught his provocative slip she ignored it, although pink circles tinged her cheeks. She perched on the edge of the sofa, clutching her purse against her chest like a flotation device during an airline emergency. "What do you want to know about Sunny?" "Why a day care owner for your amateur detective?" "It sort of evolved. Sunny didn't start out as a series sleuth. That was my editor's brainchild. I just needed a heroine in a child kidnapping story. The child's care giver seemed a good choice." "Your editor knew best. After I read _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Knife_, I had to find this one and read it." He held up the book. "No hints about _Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Dead_?" "It'll be out in late August." "Just a hint?" "A blurb." She grinned, then recited, "When single father Jack Bledsoe fails to pick up his child at day care, soft-hearted Sunny Madison takes the little girl home with her. She reports Jack missing, and is told he's dead. The cops think the little girl knows something about the killer. Unfortunately, the killer seems to think the same thing." "Okay, I'm hooked." He rubbed his hands together. "So now you're working on the fourth?" "Just plotting at this point." She sprang from the sofa. "That reminds me, I need to make a few notes tonight before I lose an idea." "When the muse strikes, and all that." He followed her to the door. "Let me walk you over. It's pitch black out there." "No need." He shoved a flashlight at her. "Then take this."

"Thanks." She pushed open the door. His efforts to relieve the charged atmosphere had failed. Leslie's body language -- the averted gazes, the protective gestures, the way she avoided touching him, even when taking the flashlight -- spoke volumes. Tension buzzed between them, thick and potent. "Leslie?" He jammed his fists into his pocket to keep from reaching for her. "Thanks for the birthday party tonight. I had fun." "Me, too." She flicked on the flashlight and stepped into the darkness. Gray closed the door, picked up the book, then flipped to the title page to read what Leslie had inscribed: _Gray _ Always enjoy your time between the sheets of a Sunny Madison mystery! _P.G. Turner_ Ooh, boy. Talk about provocative word choice. Now fantasies of fun between the sheets with Sunny Madison's _creator_ dominated his mind. **** Leslie tucked her feet beneath her as she sat on the sofa, clutching her notebook and pen. Across from her, Kat slumped into the dinette seat, her long legs stretched to rest in the opposite bench. "Peter was engaged when he met Sunny?" "Yes, unknown to Sunny." "Gee, Les, I wonder what inspired this plot. Sure you don't want to title this _The Killer Cake_?" Leslie ignored that. "The bullet is intended for Sunny. After Peter dies, the unbalanced ex-fiancee blames Sunny and makes other attempts on her life." "The reader won't know about the killer, though." "Of course not. See, as Sunny investigates the murder, she learns more and more about Peter. There'll be a whole list of suspects." "Lots of red herrings?" "One or two." Leslie grinned, jotting notes. Kat yawned and stretched. "Trade places so I can sack out."

Guilt nagged at Leslie when she remembered Kat's pregnancy. She sprang from the sofa. "Sorry, Kat. Guess we both should turn in." Her mind churning with characters and clues, Leslie knew she'd be awake for hours, thinking and planning. And she wouldn't mind the loss of sleep one bit. She had her plot. The looming monster known as "writer's block" had been vanquished. The next morning Leslie crept outside with pen and notebook, making as little noise as possible. She made a second trip for Gray's flashlight and coffee when the latter finished brewing. Working on her plot had distracted her from thoughts of Gray Webster. Well, almost. She'd decided to wait until she saw him outside to return the flashlight. Although her conscience wanted no part of him, her body had its own agenda. Inside the close confines of his motorhome her common sense took a hike, leaving her hormones in charge. Her brain could stay in control if she met him outside from now on. Of all the men in the state of Georgia, why did _he_ have to be the one to tempt her? Did she have a fixation for setting herself up with fickle guys? When she got home, maybe she'd check out the cost of therapy. Surely a psychologist could get to the root of her problem. She ignored her writing materials, content to sip her coffee and admire the peaceful morning. Still overcast, the sky threatened rain. She inhaled a lungful of the clean, damp air, then slowly exhaled. She had to admit the north Georgia mountains beat the noise and pollution of the city. "'morning." Leslie jumped, nearly spilling her coffee over the notebook resting in her lap. "I didn't mean to startle you." Gray's bedroom voice rolled over her. "I didn't hear you walk over." Her gaze traveled up his snug jeans, riding low on his hips, then to his tab-collared jersey, finally locking onto his brilliant blue eyes. "You seemed to be studying the sky. Looks like rain, doesn't it?" "Yes." She recovered her manners. "Coffee?" "I just had some. Thanks, anyway." She picked up the Mag-lite. "Here. Thanks for the loan." He nodded, accepting the flashlight. "I'd like your advice, Leslie. But you may

find it a touchy subject." "How's that?" "If you don't want to discuss this with me, I'll understand." "Okay." She shrugged, wondering if there was a woman on the planet who could refuse this man anything. "Try me." He settled on the picnic table bench across from her lawn chair. "I meant what I said about canceling the wedding. Since, as you put it, you've been on the receiving end of that kind of news, I'd like your input on the best way to handle telling Myra." "You're right. This is a sensitive topic." If he hadn't been clenching his hands and holding his breath, she might have clobbered him. But the guy seemed to be suffering enough on his own. "What can I tell you that will help?" Gray hesitated. "Knowing that Josh was going to break it off with you, what could he have done better?" Suppressing her favorite vile phrase, Leslie silently counted to ten. "First, he should have told me sooner." "I agree. That's why I can't let this wait. But I need to do it in person, not over an iffy cell phone connection." "Definitely in person. And _alone_." She closed her eyes against the image of Lisa Irvin's pitying eyes when Josh had introduced her to Leslie as his _wife._ "Leslie? Are you okay?" She blinked. "Yeah. Great. Just having another flashback." "I'm sorry. I won't ask anything else." Sighing, she shook her head. "It's okay, Gray. I need to move on. Maybe it's time I talked about it." "Really? I'd like to help." He unfolded his fists. "What else should Josh have done, or done differently? Did he offer to have announcements printed and mailed out to all the invited guests?" "He had already called all of his guests. I just had to call mine." She tamped down the anger that Josh's family and friends had known about Lisa before _she_ had. "What about expenses? Shouldn't I pay for any non-refundable deposits?" "You can offer. Josh did. But I was too proud to contact him with the

receipts." She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I guess I should have, but I was hurt. I didn't want to see the two of them together, ever again." "Did you lose a lot of money?" She laughed. "No. I was frugal from the start. And you'd be surprised how sorry people feel for a jilted bride." And she _had_ used pity to her advantage, she didn't add. "Thanks. You've helped me a lot." "Gray? One more thing. _How_ you break it off is important. Whatever you do, don't let her think there's someone else." "I'm not sure she'll buy that after yesterday." He stood, brushing off his jeans. "When are you going to talk to her?" "I'd love to get it over with today, but she has to work a long shift. I'll drive in right after rush hour tomorrow morning." He paced beside the picnic table. "No, you can't very well talk to her at work." "Well, I'm going to spend today fishing and try to relax." "Good luck. With the fishing, I mean." Gray turned to leave, then hesitated. "Want to go with me?" "I -- I don't have a rod and reel." Gray turned on his bone-melting smile, the one that robbed her of breath, of her ability to speak coherently. "I have a spare." Leslie loved to fish. How could she resist his offer? How could she resist the man? "I really need to work on my book." He lifted one brow. "Are you making excuses?" "You caught me." _Hook, line, and sinker_. **** Gray couldn't stay away from Leslie, which was why he grinned like the village idiot when she agreed to go fishing with him. He couldn't shake the sensation that time was running out, that he needed to make the most out of the time left before he drove in to the city to confront Myra. Where Leslie was concerned, Gray abandoned reason. He'd never hungered

for a woman as he did her. Maybe if he took her to bed and got his fill of her, he'd free himself of his obsession. The thought only made him hard and horny. His back to Leslie, he rummaged through the cooler for a couple of bottles of water until his ardor cooled. Leslie squealed. Dropping the bottles back into the melting ice, he spun toward her. "Yikes! I'm going to run out of line." "No you're not." Standing behind her, Gray covered her arms with his and secured the fishing pole. He took full advantage of her predicament, crowding her warmth with his body, inhaling her subtle fragrance. "Now, reel it in." Her cheeks flushed, Leslie cranked the reel. Soon the thrashing body of a large bass broke the water's surface. "Look!" "Hold on. I'll get him." Gray scurried to the dock's edge to secure Leslie's catch. "I'll bet he's at least fourteen inches." She swiped at her perspiring forehead, grinning in triumph. "Told you I could fish." He lowered the line into the water. "I never doubted it." With every minute he spent with Leslie, his conviction grew that she was the woman for him. She loved the outdoors, craved activity, viewed life with a freshness and zest unlike any woman he'd known. She'd also responded to him with more passion than any woman he'd ever kissed. He'd cheerfully spend the rest of his life with her. It frightened him how close he'd come to marrying the wrong woman. Marriage wasn't to be approached lightly. No sir-ee. When it came to a wedding, Gray wanted only one. He intended to mate for life. Leslie seem to share this attitude. But Kat had warned him Leslie was gun shy. He couldn't afford to rush her, and possibly scare her away. He'd feel a whole lot better after talking with Myra tomorrow. Although he dreaded facing her, he had to get the wedding canceled and move on with his life, a life he hoped would include Leslie Turner. Guilt from hurting Myra ate at the lining of his stomach. He'd been brought up to spare the other person's feelings, but what choice did he have? He had only one life to live, hopefully one marriage. "Let's clean the fish here so the ducks will come over." Leslie dismantled and cleaned the rod and reel she'd been using. "Fine. I'll pull in the fish."

"Do you have a knife?" Gray pulled a large knife from his tackle box. "I have this wicked dagger." "Now this is a knife," she said, imitating Crocodile Dundee. "A decent catch for a day's fishing." Gray pulled out the stringer of bass and blue gill. "We have enough for dinner, even if Rob shows up." Laying aside the fishing gear, she plopped beside him on the dock.. "Are you volunteering to grill fish for dinner?" "Of course. I have a full bottle of LP and paper plates. What more could we need?" "I brought one of those frozen pasta salads with garlicky Italian dressing. Is that all right?" Leslie scooted to the edge and unhooked her largest bass. Gray grinned. "Only if it's thawed." Her distinctive dimple on stage, Leslie laughed with delight as mallards crowded the dock, looking for handouts. She threw fish heads, tails and entrails, all neatly caught by the scavengers. Gray laughed, too, but not at the ducks. What man could resist a lovely woman who could catch and clean fish? Unlike Myra, Leslie would be at home in a camper, in the woods, on hiking trails. He understood the term _soul mate_ for the first time in his life. "Wasn't this more fun than working on your book?" Leslie grinned. "As they say, a bad day of fishing beats a good day of work. And this was a good day of fishing." After the fish were cleaned, they carried tackle, fish and the remains of their picnic lunch to Gray's motorhome. Leslie hiked ahead of him up the trail, toting the fishing rods. His gaze fixed on the provocative sway of her perfect little ass, he stumbled more than once. His jeans tightened at his groin. Soul mate, bed mate, whatever, he couldn't deny he wanted her. Worse than ever. **** Leslie unlocked the motorhome door. Where was Kat? The answer waited for her in a note on the dinette table. _Les, _

Rob picked me up. I'll be back in the A.M. after I'm feeling better. Lock up. _Love, Kat_ Knowing Kat, she must've felt puny to leave camp overnight. Leslie couldn't suppress a smile. Knowing Rob, stereotypical new dad, he'd worry himself silly over Kat. Dote on her. It must be nice to have a guy love you so much, Leslie thought, not for the first time. Camping in the woods wasn't such a hot idea with Kat's bouts of morning sickness. They should probably cut the week short. Leave early. Leave Gray. No matter how often she lectured herself about guarding her heart, Gray chipped away at her resolve. Fishing with him all day had been so much fun. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed and played like a kid, especially with a man. A handsome, virile man. A mixed-up man rebounding from a relationship, she reminded herself. The guy her body ached for while her brained said _keep your distance_. The guy she'd be all alone with tonight. -------*Chapter Nine* Leslie placed the bag of frozen pasta salad in the tiny microwave oven, set DEFROST, then hit START. The air conditioner stopped, the light went out, and the microwave died. _Uh oh_. She'd overloaded a circuit. Her own circuits had been overloaded since Gray had suggested they eat in his motorhome. Alone. His smoldering gaze, at odds with the casualness of his suggestion, had triggered an answering curl of heat low in her belly -- and other spots. Ignoring her building anxiety, she located the motorhome's circuit panel. Smaller than the circuit breakers in her condo, she flipped each one. All were on. Now what? Dare she ask Gray's help? She and Kat had already proven themselves inept campers. What was one more rescue? Her idea of roughing it meant doing without her car for the week, not giving up electricity. She'd managed a hot shower earlier, remembering to light the water heater and open the gray water valve. In spite of the learning curve, Leslie was determined to master RVing. The drizzle brought darkness earlier than normal for late spring. She stepped outside and surveyed the night, inhaling the fragrance of pines and drenched soil. From site twelve, Gray's lights beckoned her. Obviously, he hadn't lost

electrical power. She picked her way through the damp leaves and bushes to his motorhome. At her knock, Gray opened his door with a smile. "Leslie! That was quick." "Um, something's wrong with my electricity." She explained her predicament. "Come on." He brushed past her as he stepped outside, favoring her with his just-showered scent. "It's probably the main breaker on your power pole." She followed, mindless of the wet vines and tree limbs whipping against her clean sweat suit, focusing instead on Gray's damp skin and dark wet hair. "I didn't know about a main breaker." "I'll show you." "Thanks," she murmured. "Again." After he'd reset the circuit breaker at her site hookup, he led her inside the smaller motorhome. "Let me show you how to avoid this. Where's your volt meter?" "Oh. You mean that thing we're supposed to monitor to gauge our electrical usage?" She ducked her head. "I forgot to do that." "No problem." He touched his finger to her chin, forcing her gaze to his face. "Experienced RVers forget, too." She backed away. His bone-melting smile rendered her brainless. "It's, uh, plugged into an outlet in the bathroom. Should I move it?" "No need. Just check it before turning on an appliance that draws a lot of juice." Something about the way he said "juice" triggered another curl of heat between her thighs. "Sure. I'll be right over soon as I finish the pasta." Needing to put distance between them, she shooed him away. But Gray closed in, trapping her against the counter. Her heart accelerated. Blood rushed to the surface of her skin. She needed more space. How could she concentrate with his body radiating pure male heat? "Am I making you nervous, Leslie?" She swallowed. His sizzling gaze bore into her, but she couldn't look away. "Yes." Another swallow. "A little." He grazed her jaw with his knuckles. "Relax. We're just doing dinner. Much as I'd love to taste you all night, I'll settle for the pasta salad. I can wait until

you're sure you want me, too." He left her standing at the counter, her mouth paralyzed. He could wait? She doubted she could. Not with the memory of his heated gaze and the fantasy of his _tasting_ her all night. Trembling with need, shaky with desire, she switched off the air conditioner long enough to thaw the frozen salad. She didn't trigger any more power outages. But her body buzzed with enough current to power Lake Helen Campground. Thirty minutes later Gray sat across from her in his motorhome. Show tunes from a Gershwin CD played softly in the background from Gray's boom box. They shared a bottle of Rhine wine as they finished off the steamed bass. Because of the rain, Gray had cooked indoors. "This is delicious, Gray. How'd you steam it?" "In a covered skillet over low heat. Mom does ... did it that way." He cleared his throat. "I guess I sometimes forget she's gone." "Sounds like you two were close." Her heart ached at the bleakness in his eyes. "We were. She taught me to cook." He smiled, shaking his head. "She said she didn't want me to starve to death before I finally got around to marrying." Leslie didn't know how to respond. She sensed both his mother and marriage were tender topics at the moment. When a new song started, she asked, "Was your mother a Gershwin fan?" "Hardly. Mom liked Buddy Holly, Ricky Nelson, and the Everly Brothers. I'm the Gershwin fan in the family. I like big band and swing music, too." She drank the last of her wine. "Changing the subject, this wine is delicious. I'm usually a Chardonnay drinker." "Have some more." He tipped the bottle into her plastic wine glass. "This is my favorite." She didn't tell him she usually drank only one glass the rare times she had wine. This was number three. The pleasing warmth spread through her body as she downed a large swallow. "No more after this glass, no matter how cruelly I beg." "No more. I don't push alcoholic beverages." She grinned. "You aren't trying to ply me with drink?" A frown clouded Gray's face. "No." "I'm teasing. I didn't mean..."

"I promised you I'd wait till you're ready, Leslie. I won't take advantage of you." "Why not?" She sounded sloppy to her own ears. Was she sloshed on only three glasses of wine? "Hey. I'm joking." Relief flickered in his eyes, followed by wariness. "So who taught you to cook, Leslie?" Chortling, she shook her head. "I'm a back-of-the-box cook. I'll use any kind of 'helper' or frozen entree on the market." Gray drained his wine glass without breaking eye contact. His sapphire eyes kindled a flame deep inside her. When his gaze dropped to her lips, she nearly moaned aloud. I'd love to taste you all night, he'd said. She couldn't shake the image from her mind. "I like your cooking." His rich baritone did little to break the spell. Too much wine, Les. "Um, thank you." "So how's the new book coming along?" Book? What book? She blinked. "Oh, _Peter, Peter, Bullet Eater_? I have it plotted out now. There's a bit of research I'll do when I get home." "Let me clear this stuff out of our way." Gathering the paper plates, Gray stood. "I don't have dessert." _I'll be your dessert_. Yikes! What was she thinking? Gray froze, then shook his head. Had she said the words aloud? "That's the wine talking, Leslie." "You said you'd love to taste me all night." Why was her mouth leaking her private musings? From the anguish on Gray's face, she guessed she'd tested his noble intentions to the limit. Maybe it was the wine, but she no longer cared. She wanted Gray, dreamed of making love with him, of _loving_ him. He turned away, stowing the trash in a plastic bag at the sink. "I also said I want you in my bed free of doubts and guilt." "You're calling off the wedding. That takes care of the guilt." He gripped the counter. His back tensed as he exhaled a pent-up breath. "And the doubts?" Doubts. Ah, that was a tough one, she had to admit. "Oh, Gray, there'll always be doubts. There are no guarantees in life." Folding his arms across his chest, he pivoted toward her. "I need your trust."

"Trust?" She licked her lip, an unconscious act until she caught the darkening of Gray's eyes as he followed the movement of her tongue. "I'm offering you my body. You're putting me through an interview. Do you want me or don't you?" His voice lowered to a soft whisper. "You know I do, but I don't want you to have regrets. I want you to trust me not to hurt you." God help her, she wanted to. After Josh, trust didn't come easily for Leslie. "I haven't known you long enough to know if you'll hurt me." "How long had you known Josh?" "Point taken." She sighed. Years hadn't prepared her for Josh's defection. "Can we just go with our feelings without worrying about the future?" "No." His fierce gaze exposed his emotions. He offered her his vulnerability. His trust. He reached for her, pulling her from the bench seat and into his arms. "I want you in my bed and in my life." "You drive a hard bargain." She sighed. "But what if this turns out to be just a strong case of lust that you need to get out of your system?" "No. I'm not some horny teenager who thinks with his pecker. I want you to trust my feelings, too." Her arms snaked around his neck. "I can't..." "Shh. I'm not rushing you." He pulled her tight against his body, his breath hot against her ear. "I won't push for promises. Just know that you mean more to me than a romp in the sack." "You, too." Gray's hands lowered until he cupped her hips. He pulled her against his hard penis. "Feel what you do to me?" She widened her stance, twisting her body until it made intimate contact with his. Raw need exploded at her pelvis, despite the layers of clothing that separated their flesh. Turning her face to touch his lips, she teased his mouth with a feathery brush of a kiss. He covered her mouth, at first a gentle press of his lips. A low moan rumbled from somewhere deep in his throat. His tongue invaded, possessed, then mated with hers in an erotic coupling. She surrendered to his mouth, his hands as they lay claim to her. A searing trail of kisses at her neckline teased her nipples to stand at attention. Gray's talented fingers found their way beneath the hem of her sweatshirt, over her ribs, inching nearer to her hardened peaks.

"Hmm. You aren't wearing a bra." "I usually don't if I'm not going out." "I'll remember that." His hands zeroed in on her breasts, his thumbs circled both sensitized points. "Take me to bed, Gray." His mouth claimed hers again, tasting faintly of wine and garlic. "You're sure?" She nodded. Oh, yeah. She'd never been surer. If only her mouth would work to tell him her needs, her wants. She was a writer. Surely she could find the right words. She rubbed her hands over his wide shoulders, down his muscled arms, then pulled him toward the bedroom. Words failed her, but actions would prevail. She'd show Gray, prove to him he'd touched her as no other man could. Tugging at each other's clothes, they scattered a trail of sweats, T-shirt and jeans leading to the small bedroom. Gray pulled her to the bed. She gasped in appreciation at his glorious male body and his oh-so-obvious state of arousal. Running her fingers through the thick mat of dark hair covering his chest, she traced a path lower, where the tight ab muscles rippled from her touch. He stilled her hand. "Easy, baby. I want us to take our time. I want this to be special." "Next time we can go slow," she murmured. "Now I want to taste you." "Hey, that's my line." His breathing grew ragged as she licked and tasted the hollow of his throat, the dark nipples, then lower. "Leslie? Uh, if you do any more tasting, I won't la..." She feasted, circling the tip of his erection with her tongue, mingling her saliva with his own bead of fluid. Never had she exercised such boldness with a man. Never had she wanted to. Until now. Until Gray. Her body vibrated and tightened, building in arousal to match his. She took him in her mouth, continuing her pleasurable banquet. He arched his body, groaning, and shoved her away long enough to sheathe himself with protection. "Now!" she cried, opening for him. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for control, trying not to rush his pleasure

before hers. She admired his heroics, but they weren't necessary. Not this time. She was so close to coming that her body screamed for release. Never had her senses been so heightened, so stimulated. "Oh, baby." His breathing labored. "I want you so much." He plunged inside her, taking her, branding her as his. Together they found their rhythm, rocking each other into a sensual frenzy. Their mouths moved in tandem with their bodies, mating and plundering until their nerve endings threatened to short circuit. His penis filled her, then seemed to swell, thickening, deliciously burning the tender membranes deep inside her. She kissed and kissed Gray, unable to drink in enough of him. Her hands caressed every inch of his body within her reach. No doubt about it, the guy stayed in shape. She wanted to memorize every detail, but then her brain shut down. Gray's hands busied themselves at her nipples, stimulating them until she believed he could make her come from nothing more than his touch at her breasts. She squeezed her eyes shut as her arousal rocketed. Sensations mounted, pressuring both deep inside and at her clitoris, building, building... Leslie stiffened, then exploded into ripples of vibration. A kaleidoscope of colors burst behind her eyelids. Gray followed, tensing, then crying out her name. His climax rode the last waves of hers. Fast, frantic, they'd coupled like there was no tomorrow. Now they lay in each other's arms, savoring the afterglow of newfound intimacy, as if they had all the time in the world. "Unbelievable," Gray murmured before kissing her again. "Unprecedented." "I'll say." As her breathing returned to normal, Leslie relished in the aftershocks of pleasure. Tasting him had mushroomed into a sexual smorgasbord. The best sex of her life, she couldn't imagine any better. Until Gray took his turn tasting her. -------*Chapter Ten* Gray gazed into Leslie's smiling face, thanking God he'd spent the extra dough to buy a motorhome with a queen island bed. He'd barely had time to dispose of the condom and clean up before hardening again. He'd once read that, starting in their twenties, men's sex drives slow down. If so, his brain hadn't

gotten the message. He hadn't been this horny since eleventh grade. He'd never get enough of Leslie Turner. Her eyes nearly closed, she returned his gaze through the fringe of her thick lashes. Her lips swollen from their kissing marathon begged to be kissed again. And her dimple.. "You know what I've wanted to do since the moment we met?" "What?" she asked. "This." He lowered his mouth to her cheek. "But you have to keep smiling." He slid his tongue into her dimple for a taste. She giggled. "French kiss my dimple?" "Among other things." He moved to her ear, then tongued it. "Like your ear." "Hmm. What else?" "Let me show you." He licked his way down her neck to the hollow at her throat, rewarded by her tiny gasps and quickened pulse. Drawing one nipple into his mouth, he suckled and licked until she squirmed and arched her body. He turned his attention to its erect twin. God, she had nice tits. Firm, round, but not big. Perfect little cones, just waiting for his touch. His mouth. "Gray, pleeeeeeeeze." "Please, what?" "I think I'm going to come, just from..." "This?" he asked, licking tiny sensuous circles around one stiffened peak while imitating the movement on the other nipple with his thumb. "Oh, yes. Yes!" Her face contorted into a portrait of a woman on the brink, her mouth stretched taut, her eyes squeezed shut. Neck muscles tensed, she arched her rigid body. Bucking into his thigh, she cried out her pleasure. While she recovered from the first wave of orgasm, he kissed and licked his way to her navel, slipping his tongue inside. She wiggled against the sheets and slid her fingers through his hair. His tongue's path reached the dark thatch of pubic hair. He longed to taste her, to delve his tongue into her depths. But first, he wanted to make her come again, to taste her wet and hot. He crawled to the foot of the bed, despite her protests. "I can't touch you. You're too far away."

"Not for long, sweetheart. Patience." He spread her legs wide, then scooted between them. His mouth on her clit, he slid two fingers into her vagina. As quickly as she'd come earlier, he knew he needed little time. As he probed her moist heat with his fingers, his tongue found its target, the tiny nub of her clitoris. She flew apart, rocking against his mouth, milking his fingers with the spasms of her climax. He slid his fingers in and out, lubricating them with her juices. "Gray, please, I need you inside me." "I need inside you, too." He covered her pussy with his mouth, licking and probing with his tongue as far inside her as he could reach. The musky taste of her climax excited him to the point that he, too, needed more. Now. No, not yet. He retreated from the juncture of her legs. His mouth continued its journey down her body, licking first one thigh, then the other. He kissed the backs of her knees, the curves of her calves, then licked his way to the insteps of her feet. She squirmed and giggled. "Ticklish?" "Um, yes." He drew her little toe into his mouth and sucked. He'd fantasized doing this since removing that fish hook this morning. Her foot smelled of baby powder, much like the rest of her. No fancy perfume for Leslie. The cloying scent of Myra's cologne overpowered him, almost choking him at times. But Myra quickly faded from his mind as he licked his way around Leslie's body. He'd never done anything like this before and wondered why. With Leslie, he wanted to explore and taste and sample every inch of her. He'd never tire of her passionate responses as she reveled in his touch. He'd never tire of watching her. She lay there, writhing with need, flushed with orgasm, and vulnerable. The trust with which she opened herself to him shook him. He knew her trust wasn't easily won. He intended to guard it with care, to never give her a reason to regret the precious gift she offered. He grabbed for the box of condoms, strewing them across the bed as he ripped open one packet. If he didn't get the damn rubber on soon, he feared he'd spill all over Leslie and the bedding. His hands trembled as he sheathed himself. "Now, please, Gray!" "Oh, yes, baby. Now."

He plunged into her in one swift stroke. Her slick, wet canal swallowed his cock right up to the hilt, caressing it with her warmth. He withdrew, then drove himself in, farther this time, then again. And again. She cried out, clutching his shoulders, digging in her nails. "That's it, sweetheart. We'll come together." He exploded, filling the condom. To his chagrin, the primal grunting and groaning noises came from him. He collapsed atop Leslie, feeling as if he'd dissolved into a helpless puddle. He'd lost his voice, his energy, his control. His heart. **** Leslie awakened and squinted at the digital clock on Gray's bedside cabinet. She'd fallen asleep in her contacts again, but only for about thirty minutes. Exhaustion weakened her, but euphoria buoyed her. She'd never had a man make love to her so completely, so selflessly, so thoroughly. Certainly never Josh Irvin. Nor had she given herself with total abandon the way she had tonight. She'd exposed herself -- in more ways than one -- to Gray. He hadn't disappointed her. His tenderness and ardor were a potent combination. She turned to face him. He'd fallen asleep, too, his limbs entangled with hers. A cold wet spot between her legs warned her that his penis had escaped its condom. What the hell, it was his bed. "Hi, sleeping beauty." He opened one eye and grinned. "Hi, yourself." She wiggled free. "I need to clean up." He grimaced. "Yeah. Me, too. I think I'm glued to the sheets." They took turns in the tiny bathroom. While Gray washed up, Leslie shook out her sweats and dressed. Her thigh muscles were tender from too many orgasms. She grinned at that thought. Sex may be the death of her, but what a way to go. He emerged from the bathroom wearing a beach towel wrapped around his waist. "Sounds like the rain has let up. Want to go to the lake?" "It's too dark to fish." "No fishing. Just a walk through mud and pine needles, with the wet branches sprinkling us and the mosquitoes feasting on our blood." "Sounds oh-so-romantic. Grab the repellent while I'll put on my boots."

**** Gray watched Leslie slip and slide her way down the trail to Lake Helen. She was a good sport, he'd hand her that. She was a good lay, too. What was he thinking? Not just a good lay. She was perfection, the quintessential love goddess. Fate had been kind to bring them together before he'd made the mistake of marrying Myra. Thankfully, he still had time and opportunity to change course. Although he'd suggested a walk, Gray had palmed one of the foil packets when he'd tidied up the strewn condoms. If he had his way, he'd have Leslie again, this time under the stars. Or the clouds. Whatever. His jeans dug into the tender area of his genitals. God help him, he had another erection. How could that be, and so soon? He caught up with Leslie at the wooden dock. She doused the Mag-lite. "It's pitch black out here." "Scared?" He encircled her waist with his arms. She leaned into him. "Only of snakes." "I hope I'm not included in that epithet." "You aren't." She chuckled, leaning back into his chest. "Yet." He kissed her neck beneath her ear. "You aren't going to believe this." "What?" She ground her back into his stiff cock. "That you're aroused again?" "It's kind of hard to hide." "It's kind of hard." She ground against him again. "I don't suppose you brought protection." "I don't suppose you'd be willing this soon..." He kissed her neck again. "But I brought a condom, on the off chance you would be." She spun in his arms to face him. "I don't understand this, Gray. I've never been so ... so easily aroused before. I get turned on with just a touch or even a look. Have you cast a spell over me or something?" "I'm under _your_ spell, sweetheart." He brushed her lips with a light kiss. "As you said, it's unprecedented. I've never had so many hard-ons in one night, at least not that I remember. I want to take you right here, right now, on the dock, in the water, or the mud." "Mud? I like it when you talk dirty." She kissed him hard. "I vote for the dock."

He reached beneath her sweatshirt to knead her tits. Her nipples instantly pebbled against his thumbs. "What about splinters?" "Uh, we can, uh ... Oh, God, I can't think when you do that." "You mean, this?" Pushing up her sweatshirt, he covered one nipple with his mouth. "Or this?" She panted, her warm breath tickling his scalp. "Yes." He raised his head. "I'll stop." "No." The smile was in her voice. He could almost see the dimple. "We can make bedding with our clothes." "Good idea." Quickly, they stripped out of their garments. Spreading them across the wooden dock, they lay down side by side. The cool night air chilled his flesh, but only at first. Soon he forgot the temperature, the mosquitoes, and everything but the sweet, hot woman at his side. In the darkness, they made slow, languorous love. He caressed her, fondled her, slid his fingers into her hot, slick pussy while his thumb massaged her clit. She stroked the length of the thickened flesh of his cock, rubbed his balls, and licked at his nipples, as he licked at hers. She drove him wild, mindless, reckless. He nearly forgot the damn condom, so hot and ready was he to bury himself in her. He fished the packet from his pocket at the last possible moment, nearly filling the damn thing before he got it on. Leslie spread her legs for him, reached out to him, pulling him down on top of her. He pushed inside her, going deep. "Oh, yes," she murmured against his ear. He covered her mouth with his, driving his tongue in imitation of his penis, in and out, deeper and deeper, harder, faster. She met him thrust for thrust, matching his rhythm, bucking harder as she neared her climax. He came just as she screamed into the night, her sounds of pleasure mixing with his and reverberating over the lake. They collapsed in a tight embrace and lay spent, recuperating their energy in a companionable silence. "I sure hope the park manager doesn't come down here to investigate my screams," Leslie whispered. "Hank? Naw, he's asleep by now." "You don't think that woke him up?" She shifted to rest on her elbow. "Just in

case, let's dress." "Okay." He helped her re-claim her sweats, then scrambled back into his own clothes. "I think the risk of discovery, though, adds excitement, don't you?" She picked up the flashlight and turned it on. "I don't need any more excitement when I'm around you, Gray Webster." He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. "That's the nicest thing anybody's said to me in a long time." Then he kissed her, a deep, probing kiss that promised more was in store when they returned to the motorhome. A lot more. -------*Chapter Eleven* It hurt her to walk. It hurt her to sit. And still Leslie wanted Gray again. They'd returned to Rob's camper so she could change into dry clothes. Gray lit the burner and heated water for hot tea while she slipped out of her clothes. He'd seen her naked, up close and personal, so she opted to change in front of him instead of that tiny closet that doubled as a bathroom. The only light was the low voltage lamp over the range. The dry clothes didn't make it on her before Gray moved behind her, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. "Seeing your gorgeous body makes me hard all over again." Heady with her feminine power, she smiled. "What are you going to do about it?" "Unfortunately, the condoms are next door, so I guess I'll wait." Leslie was sore and tender, but she longed to make love to Gray in a way she never had before, with any man, in a way she'd never wanted to before. "Take off your clothes." "I don't think..." "I don't want you to think. Just let me have my way with you this time." He turned her around to face him. "I need to protect you, Leslie." "Trust me." Her gaze held his. "Please." Without breaking eye contact, he unsnapped his jeans, slid his zipper open, then slipped the jeans to his ankles. Stepping out of the jeans, he kicked them under the dinette. His briefs followed his shirt and socks.

He stood before her, his penis jutting out hard and shiny and pink. She stared at the sheer beauty of his anatomy, recalling the immense pleasure his hands and mouth had brought her. And this magnificent tool. Her clit tingled and throbbed in response. She fell back onto the sofa. She scooted to the edge and reached her arms out to him. His eyes widened, his eyebrows lifted. "Come here." Two steps within the confines of the mini-motorhome brought him to her. He stood, waiting, staring into her eyes. "If you keep looking at me that way, I really will _come here_. And now." She licked her lips, slowly, deliberately. His hands fisted at his sides. Leaning forward, she licked the smooth tip of his penis, her tongue swirling around the opening. With a groan, Gray dug his hands into her hair, as if to hang on for dear life. She licked and sucked, until his fluid beaded at the tip. She lapped it up, relishing the salty male taste of his semen. Oh, yes. She wanted him, all of him. Her hands caressed his scrotum, massaging the pebbled flesh of his balls. He groaned again. His hands tightened against her scalp when she opened fully and took all of him in her mouth. Mindful of her teeth, careful not to gag herself, she guided him in and out, in and out, her lips grazing the ribbed hardness of his engorged flesh. In and out, in and out, she stepped up the pace. "Sweet Jesus, Leslie, I'm going to come." Exactly what she wanted him to do. _Come, Gray. Come now, fill my mouth_. She maintained her tempo, in and out, pumping, then milking as he spurted and spilled over her tongue and into her mouth. She swallowed, then milked him dry, drinking her fill of him. He collapsed against her and they fell together over the sofa, naked limbs entangled. "God, sweetheart, I wasn't expecting ... you didn't have to..." "I wanted to pleasure you, Gray, as you have repeatedly pleasured me." "You're unbelievable." "Unprecedented?" "Absolutely." She laughed. "Well, for what it's worth, you're my first blow job."

"It was a first for me, too. But I can't imagine a better one." Myra had never offered to suck him off? What a fool. But another thought nagged her. She'd never given Josh a real, all-the-way-swallowing blow job, either. She'd never wanted to. How curious. Gray gathered her into his arms and kissed her. "You're a special woman, Leslie." "Aw, gee, you don't have to say that to get my clothes off. Wait. They're already off." He buried his face in her breasts and suckled a nipple. "Yes, how convenient." Intense desire shot through her, clear to her toes. He added his thumb to his sensual assault on her nipples. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the fog of arousal. Had he taken it as a challenge when she'd told him he could make her come just by fondling her breasts? The shrill whistle of the tea kettle broke the spell. **** Gray sat beside Leslie on the sofa. Sipping tea, they were still naked. Self-consciousness had melted away into an easy companionship. His body still hummed from _fellatio_. Generous, tender, and passionate in sex, Leslie had surpassed his wildest fantasies. Better even than his strange dream, where Myra turned into Leslie. No woman had ever satisfied and excited him as she had. And he wanted more. How many more times and ways could he have her tonight? By the time they'd finished the hot tea, he was half-way to another erection. He had more staying power now. He intended to slow down their love-making, to give Leslie the best sex of her life. Taking their empty mugs, he slid them on the dinette table. Then, without a word, he stretched out on the sofa, urging her body beside his. "What time is it?" she asked. He turned to check the time. "If you set the correct time on the microwave oven, it's nearly midnight." "So we have plenty of time." "Plenty of time. Yes. What do you have in mind, woman?"

"Getting dressed and moving back to your place, since that's where the condoms are." "Damn. I forgot." He pulled himself away from her sexy body and reached for his pile of clothes. "Let's go." After Leslie dressed in clean sweats and underwear, removed her contacts, then locked the door to Rob's camper, she followed Gray back through the path to site twelve. Rain peppered them as they raced through the vines and bushes. As soon as they climbed inside his motorhome, Gray dimmed the lights and locked the door. When he turned to reach for Leslie, she was already naked. His breath hitched. "Wait for me, babe." "My clothes got wet. I'm hanging them up to dry on these cabinet knobs." "Good idea." _Good excuse._ He followed suit and hung up his clothes in the shower. He detoured by the bedroom to grab another condom, then returned to the front of the coach. Leslie had removed her glasses. She spread his beach towel over the sofa, then sat down. "Why am I all of a sudden nervous?" "Maybe because I've threatened to have my way with you." "I feel like a teenager on my first date." She hugged herself as if to hide her nakedness. "This is silly." "Tell me what you want, Leslie. It's your call. We can just go to bed and hold each other. I know you must be sore..." She gave him a half-grin. "You must be sore, too." "True. But not too sore." "Good, because I have to have you inside me one more time." She gazed up at him with those doe eyes, darkened with desire. He hardened in an instant. Of course, he'd been semi-aroused almost all night. "How do you want it?" She flicked out her tongue and ran it over her upper lip. "Surprise me." Ooh, boy. They turned out all the lights and cuddled on the sofa, listening to the rain tapping the motorhome roof. Even though Gray was rock-solid hard, he didn't rush Leslie. Shy, sore, or nervous, he wasn't about to push his luck. The night had been too perfect up until now to spoil. He'd let her set the pace.

She slid onto his lap, straddling him, rubbing her sex against his. Teasing him. Then she threaded her fingers through his hair and brushed her lips across his. "Easy, babe." "Hard, Gray." She giggled at her joke. "I like that in a man." "I like _that_ in _you_." "Then what are you waiting for?" He kissed her, long and deep. "You're sore. I don't want to hurt you." "I'm not really sore. Just tender. And so sensitive." "Yeah, me, too." "Let's try a different position, exercise a few different muscles." "I love an adventurous woman. Show me what you want." She slid off his lap, to the carpet, and leaned over the sofa on all fours. "Doggy style." "I thought women didn't like it doggy style." Myra certainly didn't. She said it was crude. "Maybe they don't know about the G spot." G spot? He thought that was a myth. That's what Myra had claimed. But Leslie wasn't Myra, not by a long shot. He stood, sheathed himself, then got on his knees behind Leslie. "Your wish is my command." He slipped his fingers through her curls until he found her moist heat. She welcomed his fingers, moaning her pleasure as he slid them in and out. He moved his hand to the front of her abdomen, then grazed her clitoris with his wet finger. His other hand moved to her tits, finding one stiffened nipple to stimulate. She wriggled, moaned, and spread her legs wider for him. "Please, now." Not wanting to hurt her tender flesh, he eased the tip of his shaft at her opening. Slowly, he slid inside. But Leslie had other plans. She backed against him, taking him hard and deep. God, she felt good. He loved the friction deep inside her, the way she took his full length. The way she rocked and stroked him. He returned his hand to her clit, rubbing gentle circles as he plunged inside her from behind, keeping pace with the movement of their joined bodies. They rocked together in long, hard, steady movements. Each stroke seemed deeper, tighter, stimulating his body until it ached for release.

She threw back her head and cried out, then jerked against him as her orgasm swept through her. Wildly, she thrashed her body as wave after wave of spasms tightened against his embedded cock. Never had he known such freedom, such lack of inhibition in having sex. Then his thinking disintegrated as spirals of pleasure spread throughout his groin, seizing him with sensation after sensation, rocking him with his own explosive climax. "Oh, God, Gray," she said, panting. "I don't know about other women, but I _love_ doggy style." "You do, eh?" "Oh, yes. Soon as you've, uh, recovered, could we do that again, please?" -------*Chapter Twelve* Gray opened one eye and stared at the digital clock. Six o'clock. The nude feminine body spooned against him stirred. His libido stirred. How could he possibly be aroused again? At this rate, he'd have to be treated at an emergency clinic for a raw, chafed penis. "Good morning." Leslie stretched, turning to face him. The faint fragrance of baby powder tickled his nostrils. Her firm nipples collided with his bare torso. A fresh wave of longing washed over him. Unprecedented, she'd said, which perfectly described their night of lovemaking. A dull shaft of daylight slipped beneath the window blind. Both his eyes open now, they brought into focus the empty foil packages, evidence of the evening's pleasures. He raised up on one elbow, leaning over her. She smiled, her eyes droopy from too little sleep and too much loving. With his finger, he circled her dimple, then replaced his finger with his tongue. "I love your dimple." _I love you_. He dared not speak the words, not yet. But he knew without a doubt he was in love with her. His powerful feelings could mean nothing less. He also knew she wasn't ready to believe him. He'd have to be patient. "You're a man of good taste. And a man who tastes good." Her words rocked him, resurrecting memories of her mouth covering his throbbing flesh. He hardened just thinking about it. "Geez, woman, I want you again." He covered her mouth with his.

She pushed him to his back, then straddled him. "You better not be out of condoms." In answer, he handed her the box. She rummaged through the carton, pulled out a foil packet and smiled. "Ta da." "Put it on me." "With pleasure." She tore open the packet. "You may want to pick up more today." He laughed. "I'll take care of it." God, it felt so good, so right to laugh with Leslie, to wake up with her in his bed. To make love with her. To love her. He braced himself as she fondled him intimately, then rolled the condom over his sensitive skin. Her smile faded, her eyes closed as she lowered herself onto him inch by delicious inch. What a way to start the day. Instead of taking longer to build their passion to the point of no return, stimulation came quickly to his sensitive, tender body. Leslie rode him, rocking against him until she cried out her release and collapsed against his chest. Her climax triggered his own. He bucked against her, bursting into another explosion of mindless ecstasy. Later, after they'd taken turns showering in the tiny bathroom, Gray served coffee and cinnamon rolls at the dinette. One look at Leslie, damp and smiling from her shower, had him aching for her all over again. Tonight. They had the rest of the week. The rest of their lives. Forever, if he had his way. "Kat's not back yet." She peered through his window at campsite thirteen. "I guess it's too early." "You can see her from here when Rob drives up." She sipped her coffee. "When are you leaving?" "After breakfast." He shrugged. "I dread talking with Myra, but want to get it over with. Then I'll be able to relax for the rest of my vacation." _With you_. "Good luck, Gray. I know this is hard for you." His one-track mind took over. "No, baby. It's hard for _you_." She laughed at his expression. "How flattering!" "The truth is, I can't seem to get enough of you." "Me, too." She finished her coffee and roll, then stood. "Thanks for breakfast. I'd better get out of your way so you can unhook." "I know. I'll miss you today." He pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss,

knowing better than to make it a real one. He'd never leave if he kissed her the way he longed to. "I'll miss you, too. But you can't very well take me with you." Flashing him her dimpled smile, she gathered her toothbrush and eyeglasses. "Don't forget to go shopping." "Right." He winked, remembering the condoms. "I do have a few things to pick up." He also needed to grab clean sheets and towels. The bed smelled of sex and baby powder and insect repellent. And sex. Lots of sex. Unprecedented sex. Gray grinned like the goofy guy on the cover of _Mad Magazine_. -------*Chapter Thirteen* The sun had chosen the same week as Leslie to take a vacation. She'd planned to sit outside with her freshly-brewed coffee and wait for Kat. Mother Nature had other ideas, as in an all day drizzle. Rob dropped off Kat on his way to work. She rushed into the motorhome, slammed the door, then raised two plastic bags. "Food!" Leslie took the bags. "Great. I hope it's healthy stuff for you and the baby." Kat shrugged out of her slicker, then hung it in the shower. "Look and see." Leslie unpacked a bunch of bananas, a package of apples, a six-pack of yogurt, baked wheat crackers, a quart of skim milk, a package of ready-to-eat salad and two cans of tuna packed in water. "I'm impressed. So you're giving up junk food?" Kat harrumphed. "For the next eight months. Then all bets are off." "How's the nausea? Can I brew you some mint tea?" "Oh, Les, mint tea would be super. I'm a bit queasy." "Relax. I'll handle the groceries." Leslie lit the burner under the tea kettle, then stowed the groceries. Meanwhile, Kat kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the sofa. "Where's Gray? His motorhome's gone." "He's on his way to tell Myra to cancel the wedding."

"Really? I wonder why." Leslie avoided her sister's eyes. "I guess she's not the right one." "Leslie, come on." Kat re-tied her pony tail. "Rob and I left you here alone to give you two some privacy." She'd suspected as much. But she couldn't reprimand her sister for matchmaking. Not this time. "So? How did it go?" Leslie opened the overhead cabinet to avoid her sister's scrutiny. Fat chance. "We went fishing." "Oh, my God," Kat cried. "You're blushing like a virgin on her wedding night. You did more than fish." Leslie winced at how close Kat came to the truth. She was no virgin, but she'd definitely had a wedding night. And morning. Not that she'd ever been able to keep secrets from Kat. "Yes, we did more than fish. I guess you could say I let him drown his worm." "Do tell." Kat's face regained some of its color. She tucked her feet under her bottom and straightened. "So how much worm drowning are we talking here?" Leslie swallowed. "Six condoms' worth." "Six? Oh, my God, Les." "Right. And he's going to replenish his supply for tonight." Kat slapped Leslie's hand in a high-five. "Way to go! I'm happy for you." "I'm happy, too. Gray is ... wonderful." She sighed, relishing the unexpected turn her life had taken. Could this be what Josh felt for Lisa? Deep tenderness. Uninhibited lovemaking. An almost psychic connection. If so, she'd found love, too. But Josh had also claimed to love Leslie. At one time he'd been tender, loving, attentive. She'd feel more confident of her new relationship with Gray after his meeting with Myra. Until then, she couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that something would go wrong, as if she were waiting for the other shoe to drop. ****

After parking the motorhome on a side street, Gray headed up the stairs to his apartment. His steps slowed as reality smacked into him. This was Myra's apartment. In coming here today, he would be doing much more than calling off their wedding. He'd be moving out. What little he had would fit into a twenty-nine foot motorhome. His few pieces of furniture had been stowed in his parents' basement until he and Myra bought a home. An encouraging thought surfaced: He no longer needed to sell his motorhome to raise the down payment for a house. He and Leslie could make memories in that motorhome. They already had. He'd never again lie on that bed without remembering her ardent responses to him. The taste of her still lingered on his lips. He unlocked the apartment door, then stepped inside, alert to signs of Myra's presence. She stepped into the living room, grabbed her chest, and gasped. "Gray! You scared the daylights out of me." Her green eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" "We need to talk, Myra." He swallowed the lump of dread in his throat. "Now." She shrugged. "Sure. I don't have to be at work until tomorrow morning. Before I forget, your dad called." "I'll call him tonight." He collapsed into the armchair, leaving the sofa for Myra. "Sit down." "I guess this has to do with Sunday." "Not entirely." He forced his fingers to loosen their grip on the upholstery. The breath he drew for courage failed to calm him. "There's no easy way to say this. I can't go through with the wedding." "What?" she shrieked. "I'm sorry, Myra. I -- I just can't marry you." She bolted from the couch. "Why can't you marry me?" "It's not fair to either of us. Marriage would be a mistake." "Say it, damn you!" Her face turned a dangerous shade of red. "You don't love me." He closed his eyes and nodded. "I don't love you. I thought I did. Honestly." "Oh, God." All color drained from her face. She clamped her hand across her mouth, then bolted from the room.

Sounds of her retching, followed by the toilet flushing, gnawed at his conscience. Should he give her privacy? Help her? Guilt rushed through him. He couldn't bear inflicting this much pain on another human being. "Myra?" He hurried to the bathroom, where she leaned into the lavatory. Pulling a washcloth from the towel bar, he soaked it in the running water, then wrung it out. "Here." Accepting the cloth, she pressed it to her forehead. "Get away." "Let me help..." "Just leave me alone, Gray." He brushed a lock of blond hair from her face. "No. Not until I know you're all right." She swatted his hand away, cursing. "I'm not suicidal, for Pete's sake. I just need a few minutes alone. Please?" He nodded, backing into the hall. "I'll wait in the living room." She slammed the bathroom door, then twisted the lock. His guilt intensified when he heard muffled crying through the door. What had he expected? He knew breaking up with her wouldn't be a walk in the park. Myra's entire life had centered around their wedding. She had said she loved him, but he had begun to wonder if she was in love with him or the idea of having a wedding. Listening now to her sobs filled him with shame for doubting her. He couldn't leave her like this. He paced the living room, then headed back down the hall. As he reached the bathroom, the door eased open. Her eyes red and swollen, Myra stared at him. "Myra?" "You just don't get it, do you?" Pushing him aside, she stomped into the living room. "Get what?" Gray followed her, then stooped at her feet when she sat down. "Talk to me, Myra." She buried her face in her hands. Her voice muffled and weak, she muttered, "I'm pregnant." Gray froze. Blackness tunneled his vision. In all his rehearsing of breaking up with Myra, he'd never prepared himself for this possibility. "But ... but we used protection."

Myra's hands ripped away. She glared at him. "Nothing is one hundred percent effective, sugar." He stood in slow motion, respectful of the dizziness that weakened him. Staggering to the armchair, he dropped. Confusion swamped him. "What was all that talk about not wanting children?" "I was testing you, to see how you'd feel about having a baby so soon." She sighed. "I was going to tell you on your birthday. Surprise you." She'd surprised him, he mused, thinking about the birthday cake fiasco when he'd been kissing Leslie. _Leslie_. How had everything gone from perfect to miserable with just two words? _I'm pregnant._ _Damn_. His life's happiness toppled by one defective condom. "Then the wedding's still on." He had no choice. He'd have to face his responsibility. No child of his would have an absentee father. Together he and Myra would make the best of marriage. He'd forget Leslie in time. He would. He'd have to. "No. I won't force you to marry me, Gray. I've given this some thought. I'll get rid of the baby and..." "No!" he roared. Myra flinched. "I won't be a shotgun bride, Gray." "No." He drew a shuddering breath. "You won't. It'll be fine, Myra. We're getting married, we're having a baby, and we'll forget about my last minute bridegroom jitters." Geez! Now he was saying it. _Damn._ **** Leslie stared out the window into the dark afternoon. Rain pelted the motorhome in steady incessant drops, forcing her to close all the windows and run the roof air conditioner. Leaping from the bench, she slung her pen and notebook onto the bunk. "I've got to get out of here." Kat peered across the mug of tea she cradled in her hands. "And do what?" "I don't know. Swim." She opened the overhead bin, rifled through her clothes, then pulled out her one-piece swimsuit. "In the rain? That isn't safe."

"Why not? I'll already be wet. There's no lightning." She stepped into the tiny bathroom to change. "Whatever," Kat mumbled before picking up the romance novel she'd been reading. Leslie smiled, thinking about her sister. Kat could relax anywhere. She lacked Leslie's restlessness and impatience. Or maybe Leslie lacked Kat's peace of mind and serenity. She slid the swimsuit's nylon straps over her shoulders, then pulled at the leg elastic. Yep, it still fit. If anything, the maillot hugged her figure more modestly than last spring. But then she'd often forgotten to eat during the past year and probably weighed ten pounds less. After locating her rubber shower shoes and calling out a "see you later" to Kat, she dashed out into the rain. She started toward the path when the sound of a large engine grew louder. Headlights slashed through the mist. Stopping, she peered through the rain and recognized Gray's motorhome. Forgetting her swim, she picked her way through the mud to Gray's campsite. He cut the motor, then slid down from the driver's door. "Need help hooking up?" she asked. He closed the distance between them, grasping her upper arms. She lifted her face, expecting his welcoming kiss. Rain sluiced down her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. She met his gaze and stiffened. "I'm not staying, Leslie." "Oh." "I can't." Her pulse thundered in her ears. His eyes said it all. He hadn't broken up with Myra. Stepping back, Leslie collided with a low pine. Damn it all, he wouldn't see her cry. "Well, I'll get out of your way." "Wait!" He gripped her wrist, tugging her close. "Come inside a minute. I need to talk to you." "If you're not staying, I can figure out the rest." She yanked free of his grasp. "Good luck, Gray." As she turned, he let out a tortured sigh. "Myra's pregnant." _Myra's pregnant._ With those two words, Leslie's fragile hope for happiness and a future with

Gray collapsed. The proverbial other shoe. _Hell, fire, shit._ "I understand..." "She won't keep the baby if I don't marry her." That's blackmail, she thought, but gritted her teeth. She mumbled something about wishing him well, assured him she'd be fine, then ran blindly to the lake trail, her vision blurred from the rain. Or was it tears? Had it been only four days ago when she'd vowed _I won't be a last fling before you get married?_ -------*Chapter Fourteen* _"Miss Sunny, don't be sad."_ _Sunny glanced down at the toddler tugging at her slacks and forced a grin. "Okay, sport. Let's see if we can find you some crayons."_ _The little boy's face brightened. "Can I color the race car?"_ _"Sure."_ _Sunny's phony smile collapsed the instant she had the child settled with the_ Nascar _coloring book. Peter's death had left a hole in her heart and an emptiness in her life. If it weren't for her grief, she'd have no emotion left, just a numbness. She couldn't let herself cry in front of the children, so she shuffled through her days like a robot._ _She filled her nights with tears and anger and regrets. She focused on the anger. By God, she'd leave no stone unturned, no clue uninvestigated. She'd find Peter's killer and she wouldn't wait for the police to solve the case. It wouldn't bring back her fiance. It wouldn't make her whole again. But she had to do it._ _She'd do it for Peter._ The words about emptiness and tears flowed with ease. Leslie stared past her computer screen at the brilliant sunlight spilling over the privacy fence. She'd moved her office to the dining room downstairs because of the view from the French doors. Her oak dining table made a perfect work station and allowed her to enjoy her lush outdoor garden, where her azaleas, Impatiens and potted ferns garnished her patio. A Bradford pear seedling poked through the pine needles in the farthest corner. Sipping her morning coffee, Leslie knew better than to get too absorbed in her writing until Kat called. Like clockwork, the telephone chirped. Leslie glanced

at her Caller ID readout and pushed Talk. "Good morning, Kat." "Rob's gone to work. Want to go shopping? Stop at Gorin's for lunch and ice cream?" She looked down at her worn sweats and bunny slippers, her daily attire as a recluse. "No, thanks. I'm writing." "You can't stay holed up in that stinking condo the rest of your life." "Why not? It's what we novelists do." "You know what I mean. You've withdrawn since..." Leslie interrupted. "Since I started another book." "...Gray The Creep seduced you." Leslie closed her eyes. In spite of everything, she had trouble referring to Gray as The Creep. "We're not having this conversation, Kat. I have to go. I have work to do." "Are you sure you're all right?" Kat had asked the same question every morning since their aborted camping trip. "Fine." Leslie gave her sister the same answer. They both knew she lied. She was far from fine. "_Peter, Peter, Bullet Eater_ is flowing better than ever. The best thing I can say about Gray Webster is he unlocked my creativity." He'd unlocked a whole lot more. Like her heart. Her lust. Her dreams. Damn him! She'd almost believed all his talk about being soul mates. The worst was, she still loved him. Thankful she'd never admitted her feelings to him, she at least had her pride intact. "You deserve better, Les. First Josh, now Gray. And I feel responsible..." "Stop that. You aren't to blame for my mistakes. I'm thirty years old. I can screw up all by myself." "But I want to help." Leslie chuckled. "You want to help me screw up?" Kat sighed into the phone. "You know what I mean." "You can help by taking care of yourself and the baby. Worrying isn't healthy. Okay?" After ending the call, Leslie reconsidered Kat's words. She couldn't stay in

isolation forever. A good outing would do her good. She shut down the computer, dressed, then headed for the mall. As Kat often said, when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. **** Gray hung up the rented tuxedo in the guest closet, then battled the stubborn bi-fold door. Like everything else in his life, the damn thing was off track. Even his last two engineering jobs had needed correcting. The harder he tried to concentrate, the more mistakes he made. Two more days and he'd be a married man. His life had taken the oddest turns in the past two weeks. He tried not to think of Leslie. Those memories were counterproductive, especially the image of her standing in the rain, her face stricken, her eyes bravely battling tears. She'd been one love, too late, as the song went. He'd had no right to love her before he'd freed himself of his engagement. On the heels of Myra's announcement came his dad's. Eugene Webster wanted his son's blessing. He, too, was getting married, and had the gall to suggest a double wedding. Gray's mother had been dead only two months. The stepmom-to-be and Myra had worked out the wedding logistics. Today he'd agreed to meet his dad for lunch and talk man to man, as his dad had put it. Shattering glass from the kitchen doorway broke through his reverie. Myra stood rigid, hands on hips. A fierce frown marred her natural good looks. "So I finally got your attention." He lowered his gaze to the floor, where Myra had crashed a crystal salad bowl. Fine shards of glass twinkled from the dark vinyl floor. "What's wrong, Myra?" "What's wrong? You tell me, sugar. You treat me as if I'm not even here. You won't answer when I try to talk to you. You're staring at that closet like a zombie." She swallowed, her eyes filling. "You won't even touch me." He couldn't argue the point. Kissing Myra had been perfunctory at best. Making love? Out of the question. He'd hoped to psych himself up by his wedding night. He hurried to her side. "Geez, Myra. I'm sorry. I'm a bastard, honey." Enveloping her in his arms, he patted her back until she'd drenched his shirt with tears. Myra deserved better than this. He'd re-committed himself to the wedding. He'd vowed to be a good husband and father. But he didn't expect it to be so damn difficult. "If you're just going to go through the motions of being a husband, we'd

better call off the wedding now." "Call off the wedding? But the baby..." "You're devoted to the damn baby, but not to me. I'm no fool." She hiccupped, dug her palms into her moist eyes, and wriggled from his embrace. "No, you're not. I'm the fool and I apologize." He was a fool if he thought he could pull off this charade. "I want our marriage to work, Myra. After the stress of the wedding is behind us, things will get back to normal." He hoped. Sniffling, she waved him away. "You'd better hurry. You don't want to be late meeting your dad." "Are you sure you're okay with the double wedding?" She shrugged. "I'm happy for Eugene." Gray was seated at the trendy restaurant waiting for his father before he realized Myra hadn't answered his question. She'd seemed very upset, but that could be hormones from pregnancy. Hadn't Kat Hupp become more emotional? Eugene Webster, still fit and handsome for a sixty-year-old, jaunted behind the waitress as she led him to their booth. The pale yellow golf shirt and navy slacks flattered his graying hair and tanned skin. The unfairness of the man's health and upcoming nuptials while his wife lay in her freshly-dug grave burned a hole in Gray's stomach. After ordering drinks, Eugene fixed Gray with a determined look. "I'm glad you could meet me, Gray. There's something I need to tell you. It's about me and your mother." Gray clenched his jaw, sure he wouldn't like what his workaholic father had to say. But his sense of fairness overruled his bitterness. "I'm listening." The older man cleared his throat. "This isn't easy." "Nothing in life is, Dad." Gray winced at his own harshness. "I know you think I wasn't there for her. Heck, I wasn't there for any of you." He scrubbed his face the same way Gray did when frustrated. Had Gray learned the gesture from his dad? "I loved your mother. I truly did. But it was a love out of duty and honor. There was no passion." Passion? Geez. The old man sounded like a soap opera. "Then why did you marry her?"

"Because Susan Leigh was already married." "Susan Leigh?" Gray blinked. "Susan, the widow you're marrying Saturday?" "The same. I'm not proud of falling in love with another man's wife. The only thing I knew to do was to keep my distance and make a life for myself. I've tried to be an honorable man." The red haired waitress interrupted with their beverage order. After she scurried away, Eugene continued. "I was young. Figured I could get over Susan and love again. Your mother and I met, married, and enjoyed a cordial relationship." "Cordial?" Gray nearly choked on his drink. "You mean cold. I never saw you treat Mom with affection. How can you say you loved her?" "I was faithful and respectful to your mother. She and I loved each other as friends, Gray, but her whole world centered on you and Terri. It was more a marriage of convenience, although we pretended otherwise to the outside world." "Not very successfully," Gray muttered. "This marriage of convenience gave you and Mom a family and that was enough?" Eugene shook his head. "No. I realize that now. After I ran into Susan, I discovered I'd never truly forgotten her. There's still passion there, son. I'm sorry about your mother. I truly am. And if she were still alive, I wouldn't be sitting here telling you any of this." Gray's appetite vanished as the magnitude of Eugene's confession penetrated his brain. He was about to repeat his father's mistake. He would doom Myra to an emotionless marriage, just as his father had done to his mom. His martyrdom would make them both miserable. The word _passion_ conjured up Leslie's image. Would he still ache for her in thirty or forty years? His anger and bitterness dissolved. He understood his father, more than he'd admit. "I wish you and Susan every happiness, Dad." **** Leslie paid the cashier at the Gwinnett Place Mall coffee stand, then moved down the counter to let her tea bag steep. She stared absent-mindedly at the green and white tile while timing her brew. "Leslie?" She turned at the familiar male voice. Ironically, the last time she'd heard him speak had been at this mall. "Hi, Josh."

The strawberry blond-haired wife stood beside him, her smile tentative. Did the woman expect Leslie to tear her apart, limb by limb? Leslie gave her what she hoped was her warmest smile. She couldn't blame Lisa for Josh being a jerk. Hadn't Leslie herself been in the same position with Gray? "You remember my wife Lisa?" "Of course. It's good to see you both." Josh swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath his dimpled chin. In a familiar gesture, he ran his hand through his thick blond hair and cleared his throat. "We're having a cappuccino. Care to join us?" Cappuccino? The man had broken her heart, crushed her dreams. Or had he? She worried her lip. "Actually, I'd like to talk to you, if you have a minute." Lisa patted his arm, then stepped away. "I'll leave you two to talk while I run to the book store." "You don't have to leave," Leslie said. "I don't mind." A loving smile filled her face when she turned to Josh. "Order me a latte. I'll be right back." Lisa disappeared around the corner from the food court. Leslie disposed of her tea bag in the trash basket, then added milk. She waited while Josh placed his order. "Lisa trusts you." "Why wouldn't she?" "Oh, I don't know. Your history, maybe?" Even as she said the words, Leslie realized they'd lost their sting. Josh paid the cashier, stuffed his wallet into his back pocket, then faced Leslie. "I don't blame you for saying that." She shrugged, surprised at her lack of anger. "I apologize. That's not what I want to talk about." Following him to a metal table for four, Leslie claimed the chair beside hers for her packages. The day's shopping trip had been expensive, but therapeutic. She had no idea whenever she'd wear that red hot slip of a dress, but she'd bought matching nail polish and lipstick. "I've said it before, Les, but I really am sorry I hurt you." She waved a hand. "I know. What I want to ask you is, are you happy? Truly and honestly." His face widened into a genuine smile. "Very. Lisa's perfect for me in every

way. I don't mean you..." "Save it, Josh. I don't want you to feel guilty. The truth is, it happened to me, too." His eyebrows lifted. "You've met someone?" "Yeah." She nodded. "Two weeks before his wedding to someone else." Josh's eyes filled with sympathy. "You probably fought him, kicking and screaming. Right?" "Close enough. But Josh, he was the one for me. I fell for him so hard and so fast. He called me his soul mate, just like you spoke of Lisa. If nothing else, it helped me understand you and what happened. You would've hurt me more if you'd gone through with the wedding if I wasn't the right one. We both deserve better than that." "Les, I can't wait to tell Lisa." He closed his eyes and sighed. "You don't know what a load off my mind this is. I've hated that you were hurt." "That's history." She smiled, freeing herself of the year-long grudge. "I forgive you. I wish you and Lisa the very best." "You mean that. I see it in your eyes." Josh's smile faded into a worried frown. "But I don't see happiness. Aren't you and this guy together?" A crowd of giggling teenage girls filled the adjacent tables. Leslie turned back to Josh. "His wedding's Saturday." "You mean the day after tomorrow?" She nodded, her eyes filling. "It's, um, complicated." "I don't care how complicated it is. You've got to do something! You can't let him marry her if he's in love with you." "I have no choice. It's his decision." She blinked back tears. "The bride's pregnant." "So? He pays child support and sues for joint custody. This is the twenty-first century. He doesn't have to go through with the wedding." His green eyes widened. "You have to stop it." His adamancy drew the attention of the teenage girls. He lowered his voice. "I don't want you to let true love slip through your fingers. When it's right between two people, it's paradise, and you want everyone else to enjoy the same happiness." Leslie couldn't help but laugh. This was Josh the Jerk? Her well-mannered

sedate ex-fiance waxing poetic? "Meeting Lisa had certainly lit your fire." He nodded. "We both want you to be this happy, too. That's why you have to take action, before it's too late." His sincerity touched her. "Thanks, Josh. I really appreciate your enthusiasm." "Then you'll do it?" She frowned. "Do what?" "Crash the wedding!" -------*Chapter Fifteen* Perched on the hard bistro chair, Leslie dug into a double scoop of Rocky Road ice cream. She closed her eyes and savored the marshmallows and chunks of chocolate, the perfect antidote for any crisis. "I'm glad you changed your mind about lunch." Kat spooned low fat frozen yogurt into her mouth. "You don't look so good." "Thanks," Leslie muttered. "I'm serious. You look like the one who's not been able to eat." In spite of her morning sickness, Kat glowed. Her auburn hair tumbling in curls across her shoulders, her makeup subtle and perfect, she'd never looked prettier. "I haven't had much of an appetite." Leslie sighed, then attacked her ice cream with gusto. She'd told Kat about running into Josh and Lisa, and recapped her talk with Josh. Although Leslie felt no better about losing Gray -- as if she'd had him to lose -- her conversation with Josh brought peace. Closure. She'd exorcized the ghosts of her jilted bride experience. "Well, your appetite's returned now. What's happened?" "Josh made a suggestion, one I dismissed as absurd. But it started me thinking." "Uh oh. About Gray?" Leslie nodded, then swallowed the last of her Rocky Road. "Josh thinks I should crash the wedding and voice my objection." "You mean like Bruce Willis in _Blind Date_? Or Madonna in _Who's That Girl_?"

Leslie frowned. "I take it those are movies. Of course, I wouldn't do anything like that." "But?" Kat grinned. "I see those plotting wheels spinning, P.G. Turner." "A person has only one life. Gray needs to know before it's too late that he has a choice. He doesn't have to marry a woman he doesn't love, even if she's pregnant. I want him to see that I'm a choice, too." Kat's eyes darkened with concern. "If he goes through with the wedding, Les, you'll be humiliated." "I'm just going to show up. To let him see me. You know I'd never speak out during the ceremony." Would she? With so much at stake, could she sit still and watch Gray kiss the bride? "What's changed since he told you his fiance was pregnant?" "I realized I never gave him a chance. He asked to talk to me and I ran away to lick my wounds, giving no thought to his." She shivered, remembering how they'd both licked each other into an erotic frenzy. "Who's to say if it would've made a difference, but he needed a friend and I split." Kat shook her head. "I don't know..." "I love him." The quiet admission stunned her. She'd never before spoken the words. "I have to know I gave us every chance." Kat's eyes filled. "You love him." "You aren't going to cry, are you?" Leslie smiled as she used Gray's words, the words that had led to a kiss. A kiss that had altered her life. **** "Today's the big day, bro." Gray gripped the telephone receiver. "Terri? Are you in Atlanta?" "You don't think I'd miss my big brother's wedding, do you? Not to mention Dad's. Isn't that a hoot?" "Thank you for coming," he murmured. "I mean, it's a long trip for you and you were just here for Mom's..." "Hey, she'd want this, Gray." His sister paused. "All of it. She'd want Dad happy, too." Gray couldn't discuss happiness at the moment. "Is Bruce with you?"

"Of course he is. You know we're inseparable." Gray swallowed the regret lodged in his throat. Another set of soul mates, he thought, picturing his younger sister and her devoted husband. "Of course." "I won't keep you. I know you and Myra have a thousand last minute things to do." "No, everything's arranged. Myra's very organized." "Great. So where are you honeymooning?" He'd originally planned his honeymoon to be a motorhome trip, but Myra had nixed the idea. Now he couldn't bear the thought of Myra in that bed. He'd put the motorhome up for sale. He needed to rid himself of the painful reminders of Leslie and what might have been. With a baby on the way, he needed the money for a house, anyway. "We're driving up to Niagara Falls after the ceremony." "How romantic," his sister gushed. "I'll see you at the chapel, then. Try not to be nervous." "Yeah, right." Her voice softened. "Bruce and I wish you two a lifetime of happiness." "I appreciate it, Terri." Gray hung up the phone and gritted his teeth. At noon today he'd be married. To Myra. For as long as they both shall live. Perspiration beaded his upper lip. The burning cramps returned to his abdomen. Spots danced before his eyes. Clutching his belly, Gray staggered to the sofa and lay down, closing his eyes against the pain. "Gray?" Myra sounded a mile away, but the scent of her cologne closed around him. "Gray!" Alarm hitched her voice. She grabbed his wrist, fingered his pulse. He forced his eyes open. Myra stared at him, her eyes filled with concern. "Just let me rest a second, Myra. I'll be okay." She frowned. "Sugar, you're not okay. You're white as a Yankee in winter and clammy as a goose." "I didn't know geese were clammy." His attempted smile faltered. "No joking, Gray. You're pulse is erratic. You must be coming down with flu. Let me find a thermometer."

Being married to a nurse had its advantages, he supposed. Another wave of cramping gripped him. Psychosomatic or not, the attack disabled him worse than his previous ones. Myra scurried back with a thermometer, her musk cologne permeating the room. She must've taken a bath in the shit. "Let me stick this in your ear." He waved her away. "I don't have fever. I don't have flu." "How do you know?" He exhaled after riding another wave of pain. "It's happened before. Just give me a minute." "Can you sit up?" she asked, after the pain receded. "Yeah." "Now, what's all the nonsense about this happening before? Why didn't you tell me?" "It's nerves." Gray scrubbed his face, releasing a long sigh. Her eyes narrowed into green slits. "Nerves?" "Myra, I'm sorry. I just can't do this. I can't go through with it." Gray braced himself for her anger, her screeching protest. But Myra just sat there, staring at him. Her eyes grew sad. Resigned. Lowering her gaze, she placed the thermometer on the end table. "You're talking about the wedding?" He nodded. "I've tried, honey, but I just can't force myself to feel something that isn't there." "I know." "But I want our baby. I want to be part of its life. Please say we can work this out. An innocent child doesn't have to suffer..." She slapped her hands over her ears. "Enough with the baby crap!" "Myra?" A slow anger burned its way from his stomach through his neck and head. His face heated. "What have you done?" Surely he'd know if she'd ended the pregnancy. Or would he? She'd accused him of ignoring her, of being a walking zombie, and she'd been right. He'd been oblivious to everything and everyone since resigning himself to a marriage he didn't want. He hardly knew if she was in the apartment.

She dropped her hands to her lap. "Chill, Gray. I haven't done anything except tell you a big fat lie." Anger faded. A flicker of relief teased its way into his heart. "Lie?" She averted her eyes. "Please don't hate me. When you told me you couldn't go through with the wedding, I panicked. I lost my breakfast. Talk about nerves making you sick. Then I thought up the pregnancy angle. I didn't want to lose you." "You ... you aren't pregnant?" Her blond head shook from side to side. "There's no baby." "No. There's no baby. I thought if I got pregnant right away I could cover my tracks, but that's not going to happen. You won't make love to me." She gave a hollow chuckle. "You can't even stand to touch me." "You were going to let me marry you, even knowing I'd be miserable?" He fought the impulse to grab her by the arms and shake her. "No! After you moped around like a kicked puppy for more than a week, I didn't have the heart to keep up the pretense. I started to tell you the other day when I crashed the bowl to smithereens. I lied to keep from losing you, but I'd already lost." He shook his head, bewildered by her behavior. She'd claimed to love him, but what kind of love was this? Relieved by her confession, he was also enraged by her treachery and deceit. "I wish you a happy life, Myra, and I'm glad as hell it won't be with me." His mind raced to Leslie. Had he lost his chance with her? He'd betrayed her within hours of begging for her trust. He'd promised not to hurt her. Already fragile from Josh the Jerk's fickleness, she'd be unlikely to forgive Gray's behavior. He'd sacrificed their love for the sake of a fictitious baby. A lie. As close as they'd become, as quickly as they'd bonded, Gray had no idea where Leslie lived or how to reach her. Rob Hupp's trailer shop would be listed in the Yellow Pages, but would Rob help? Gray was probably shit on everybody's list after his shabby treatment of Leslie. _Damn_. **** "I found it," Kat yelled, hanging up the telephone. She scribbled on a scrap

piece of computer paper. Leslie and Kat had called every banquet hall and church in the metropolitan area searching for Saturday's wedding with a groom named Webster. Too bad neither had bothered to remember Myra's last name. "When and where?" "Noon at Dogwood Wedding Chapel. It's near Chastain Park." Leslie groaned, then headed toward the stairs. "That's an hour away and I'm not even dressed." "Hurry. I'll call Rob and let him know where I'll be." Leslie's hand froze on the banister. "You're going with me?" "You bet. I wouldn't miss this for a winning lottery ticket!" Leslie checked the digital clock in her bedroom. She had exactly one hour to dress and arrive at the wedding chapel. Well, if she arrived late, all the better. Gray would see her make an entrance. She just hoped she wasn't _too_ late. She wiggled into her new dress, slipped on her new high heel sandals, then headed for her vanity. Her hair cooperated for a change, swept back full and sleek. A quick brushing of mascara and a swipe of her new lipstick completed her rushed makeup job. As Leslie skipped down the carpeted stairs, Kat gasped. "You're going dressed like that?" "I want to be sure he sees me." "Trust me. He won't miss you." Kat smiled. "You look stunning. Let's go." **** Leslie looked more stunned than stunning at twelve thirty when she nosed her Jeep Liberty into a parking space in back of Dogwood Wedding Chapel. "I'm too late, Kat." She banged her head against the steering wheel, chanting, "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" "Hey, don't talk that way about my sister!" Kat smoothed out the citation crumpled around the emergency brake handle. "I have to admit, you asked for this ticket." "Nobody gets speeding tickets in Atlanta. Nobody!" Leslie rolled down the windows before killing the motor. "We're known for our fast drivers, Les, but ninety in a fifty-five zone? That's flirting with disaster."

Ignoring Kat's comment, she opened the door. Kat gestured toward the few scattered cars in the parking lot. "What are you doing? We missed the wedding. It's over." "I'm making sure, that's all. I'll be right back." Leslie slid out of the Jeep, mindful of her short dress. She smoothed the silk fabric into place, slammed the door, then marched into the reception area of the wedding chapel. A silver haired woman stood behind the desk filing documents. She looked up at Leslie and smiled. "Welcome to Dogwood Wedding Chapel, young lady. May I help you?" "Um, have I missed the Webster wedding?" The lady sank to her chair. "I'm afraid so, dear. It was a short service. The happy couple just left for the reception. It's at the Clubhouse about a mile away. You can catch them there." The happy couple. A dark cloud blanketed her, blotting out her last hope. Tears burned the back of her eyes. Swallowing wouldn't dislodge the knot in her throat. "No. That's all right. I just wanted to make the wedding ceremony." I just wanted to _stop_ the wedding ceremony. But she'd arrived too late. "Pity, since you're all dressed up. I must say you'd make a lovely bride someday." "Thank you," she murmured, knowing it would never be. How could she ever marry when she'd lost Gray? Her life's one great love. Leslie turned toward the door to leave. "Were you a friend of the bride?" "No." She struggled to hide the tremble in her voice. "The groom." "Mr. Webster? Such a handsome man, too. Charming. Why, if I'd been ten years younger, I'd have given that lady some competition!" Leslie smiled. Ten years younger? Who was the lady fooling? She had at least thirty years on Gray, probably closer to forty. "Well, thank you for your time." Slipping her sunglasses back on, Leslie emerged into the blinding sunlight. Standing on the blacktop, she gazed across the sprawling golf course in Chastain Park. What a perfectly lovely day and a perfectly lovely place to be in a perfectly rotten mood. Last night she'd painted her toenails the same color red as her new dress,

imagining the look on Gray's face when she entered the back of the church. He'd see her, a vision in red silk, and he'd be a goner. No matter what, he'd have to leave the chapel. Make his apologies to the wedding guests. He'd stroll down the aisle, then break into a jog until he reached her. Sweeping her into his arms, he'd swing her around and... Stop it! This wasn't the movies. There would be no last minute dramatics, no happily-ever-after ending. Gray was lost to her. She had to come to grips with the facts and move on. She dragged herself back to the Liberty and slipped inside without looking at Kat. Closing her eyes, she battled tears. Tears would do no good and they'd surely ruin her mascara. Kat wouldn't approve. Leaning her forehead against the steering wheel, she groaned. "I blew it, Kat." "I wouldn't say that." That masculine voice. That wasn't Kat's. Her mind played a cruel trick on her, making her sister's voice sound just like ... Her eyes jerked open. "Gray?" **** He'd watched Leslie walk out to the parking lot and his heart nearly stopped. Her short red dress clung to her curves, stopping just shy of covering her shapely thighs. Thin straps exposed plenty of creamy shoulders and neck, just waiting for his mouth. Red tipped toes peeked from the straps of sexy sandals. Memories of kissing and licking her feet gave him an instant hard-on. He'd never seen her dressed in anything but blue jeans or sweats, or the bathing suit she wore the day he left her. Her auburn hair was styled in a perfect bob. He'd only seen it towel-dried and sun-kissed, or dripping wet. The addition of make-up highlighted her wholesome, natural beauty. The sight of her overwhelmed him. She'd dressed up for him. She'd risked coming here to stop him from getting married. Never had he loved her more. She hadn't spotted him sitting in the passenger seat, even after opening the door to her Jeep. It had taken all his willpower to keep from sweeping her into his arms. And she looked so sad, so miserable, so dejected... "How ... what are you doing here?" "Rob told me you and Kat were on your way here to stop the wedding." "When did you speak with Rob?" Leslie eyes narrowed. "I called him looking for you, to tell you I wasn't marrying Myra. He met me here and picked up Kat..."

"Did you say you weren't marrying Myra? I don't understand." "Then understand this." He lowered his voice, struggling to speak around the lump of emotion in his throat. "I love you. I can't live without you, even if it means going against every ounce of responsibility or honor I felt toward Myra." "_Felt_?" Now that he'd found Leslie, his anger at Myra dissipated. "When I told her I couldn't go through with the wedding, she admitted lying about the baby. She wasn't pregnant." Leslie gasped. "She almost ruined your life. Both our lives." "No. I almost let her ruin our lives. I'm sorry for hurting you." "You canceled the wedding?" "I didn't say that. I said I didn't marry Myra." She pointed to the chapel. "Then who is the Webster groom who just got married in there?" He grinned. "My father. It's a long story. Let's save it for later." When he reached for her, she willingly fell into his embrace. "I love you, too, you know." "I know." He kissed her temple. "The next wedding I go to better be mine and yours." Afraid of her answer, knowing he'd rushed her, Gray covered her lips. Pouring all his feelings into the kiss, he left no doubt how precious and vital she was to him. It frightened him to think how close he'd come to throwing away his future. _Their future_. She loved him. Enough to crash his wedding! Leslie returned his kiss, giving as good as she got. "Come home with me," she whispered against his mouth. "I thought you'd never ask." He dipped his head toward hers for one more taste. "I'll make it worth your while." She winked.

"The truth is, I have no place else to go. Myra evicted me today." "I think we can work something out." He pulled her across the console, covering her lips in a smoldering kiss. He slid his hand up that short, short red skirt, grazing her thigh. He fingered the lace edging of her panties. "I think I'd rather work something _in_." "We'd better leave now, Gray, before we get arrested or one of us gets hurt on this emergency brake." She straightened in her seat, then tugged her dress toward her knees. Leaning across the console, he draped his arm across her shoulders. "First, tell me one thing. Would you really have stood up in church and objected to the wedding?" "I wouldn't have said a word." Shrugging away from his arm, Leslie slid the key into the ignition. Disappointment nagged at him until he caught the glimmer of mischief in her eye, the deepening of her dimple. "And why not?" "Because your father is old enough to know what he's doing, Gray." She started the engine. "And I think we are, too." He laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh from the gut. Giddy, happy, he wanted to jump and kick his heels together. Except he'd do himself serious bodily harm if he tried, especially with the boner he was sporting. "I agree." "How do you feel about elopements?" "How do you feel about Niagara Falls?" Leslie grinned, her face flushed with pleasure. "Shall we pack up the motorhome?" -------*About The Author* Vanessa Hart, known as "Nessie" to her writing buddies, writes romance and suspense novels under a different name. She is an imaginative, drop-dead gorgeous, curvy young red-head. Well, she's imaginative, anyway. Vanessa's Website: http://www.vanessahart.com Email Vanessa: [email protected] ----------------------Visit www.liquidsilverbooks.com for information on additional titles by this

and other authors.