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wanted to take care of people, but when was she going to get the chance to take care of her own

children? After two frenetic years of residency would come a busy career. The times when she

and Victor had talked cautiously about a possible future together, he had always evinced

satisfaction with how things were going. He liked the idea of having a -wife who was as career

oriented as he was. He liked the respect and prestige, and the life-style, Lots of people managed

two demanding professions in their relationships. Was that too much to ask?

Chance said quietly, "It's easy to get bogged down in a career and forget you're a human being."

Mary turned to look at him. He looked so remote, attention trained on the road, half of his

expression covered by the dark glasses. Was he talking about her, or himself? A career in

journalism, travelling all over the world-show many opportunities could he have had for a

normal life, wife, kids.

Good Lord-could he be married? With an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach, she sneaked a

look at his left hand. No ring, and no tan line, either. But some men didn't wear rings. If he was

in his late thirties, he could have three or four marriages by now, and any number of kids. Mary

could just picture them, blond hair dripping into their sad eyes, wanting their daddy to stop

flirting with her and come home to them. She gritted her teeth, revolted by the image.

Now, wait a minute. Find a nice roundabout way to ask him. "Have you found time for a career

and maybe marriage, too?"

His lips twitched. "Plenty of career, but no marriage. Not yet. I'm one of those men that got

bogged down. One day I got home, walked into my apartment in New York, and everything was

covered in dust. No food in the fridge. Hell, I couldn't even keep a cat. Everybody I knew was a

work contact. I'd lost touch with most of my friends years ago. That was when I decided to slow

down. Nobody ought to work that hard."

Her depression stopped riding her shoulders and blew out the window, and she gave him a sunny

smile. "I thought about becoming a paediatrician, but that would be four more years of training

on top of what I'm doing now. And then I'd spend all my time taking care of other people's

children."

"And when would you find time to have any fun?" he asked dryly. "Let alone have any children

of your own."

"Well," she said self-consciously, "yes." So what. She could admit that she wanted children. That

was a perfectly reasonable desire. A lot of people wanted children; it wasn't as if she was hinting

at anything.

And fun. What a pretty, simple, three-letter word that was, but what a concept. When was the last

time she could say to herself, gee, I had fun? Then the realization shook through her: she didn't

have any idea whether Victor wanted children or not. That was such an elemental knowledge of

another person, but in the two years they had gone out together, the subject had never come up.

And Mary couldn't even make a good guess based on what she knew of his personality.

Victor and she were practically engaged. He was certainly by far the most serious relationship

she'd ever had. In college she'd dated a few times, but she was mostly preoccupied with her

schoolwork and her brother, who had needed her to be a surrogate mother. He didn't even

remember their

parents, who had died in a car crash when she was seventeen and Tim was only five. She hadn't

had time for more than casual relationships, but Victor, who was also a doctor, and understood

the stresses of her life; had pursued her with patience. She'd not only been flattered by his

attention, but comforted by the companionship.

They reached the turnoff and began the long drive through the wooded twenty-acre estate to the

large house. The clock on the Jeep's dashboard read almost eight o'clock. The sun had set behind

the tree line, and it was growing dark. Chance removed his sunglasses, pulled the Jeep to a stop,

and regarded the sprawling manor house with raised eyebrows. Some of the windows were well

lit, but the shadows outside were spiky and dark.

"You live in that?"

Mary started to chuckle. "Yes," she said, "I know. It's a monstrosity, isn't it? But my great-

grandfather was so proud of it."

"There're about three or four different plans going on. What's it look like from the back?"

"Worse. There're a couple of pavilions, an overgrown topiary garden, an arched bridge that

doesn't span anything, an unsuccessful artificial pond that turned to swamp around World War II

and a rotting boathouse. It must have been something in the roaring twenties, but now it's a little

sad, like an abandoned carnival. Every two years or so, my grandfather swears he's going to tear

it down and build something more sensible."

"I saw something like it in a horror movie once. All these college kids were being chased around

by a maniac with a meat cleaver." He cocked his head. "I don't think I could sleep in that place."

She covered her mouth and giggled at the image of such a tough, self-reliant man huddled wide

awake in bed with the night sweats. "It's not so bad when you've been raised in it. Then you don't

know anything different, you see. I always hoped to find a secret passage, but I never did. The

attic is a wonderful place to play on a rainy day. It's huge and fi1led with all kinds of junk."

He shook his head, smiling, and opened his door. The song of crickets and the fresh smell of the

woods filled the night air. Mary opened her door, as well, then realized that he was coming

around to her side of the Jeep.

She looked up at him, her heart starting another idiotic tap dance. The creases on either side of

his mouth were deepened by his smile, and he reached out for her with both hands. "Such a fancy

manor house," he drawled, twin devils laughing in his eyes. "It must be bringing out the genteel

in me."

Eyes riveted to his reckless face, she held out her hands, but instead of taking hold of them, he

took her by the waist and lifted her lightly out of the Jeep. At some point her feet touched the

ground. She wasn't sure when all of her attention had plummeted to the warm, firm grasp of his

hands that nearly spanned her middle. They stood very close together. Somehow her hands had

found their way to grip his upper arms. The heat from his lean torso and legs radiated through her

light cotton dungarees, and she caught the merest hint of his scent, clean and redolent of fresh air

and very male.

Mary was fixated, electrified. At no time during her sheltered life had she experienced anything

like the sensations that rioted through her. The shape of his down-bent head against the sky was a

hieroglyph with archetypical meaning, and the shadowed; intent expression on his face made her

stare in-wonder.

Chance murmured, "Walk you to the door, Mary?"

It was so old-fashioned. Genteel. She was enchanted.

"Thank you," she breathed. "Oh, and thank you for bringing me home, too."

"My pleasure." After holding her a pulsing moment too long, he turned and slid one hand to the

small of her-back as they strolled to the porch.

”I've enjoyed meeting you."

"Me, too." She stared at the steps hard, willing herself to negotiate them properly and not do

something stupid like trip and fall flat on her face. That was hard to do when her knees seemed to

have a mind of their own. They paused at the door.

"Are you planning to go watch the fireworks on the beach tonight, or are you calling it a day?"

"I-haven't made up my mind yet." She wasn't that tired after all. The celebration didn't start until

ten. She could have some more coffee, a shower, maybe a quick nap, and she got to sleep in as

late as she liked tomorrow. Just an hour or two, for Tim's sake. "Are you going?"

"I thought I might." His low voice was somewhere between gravel and velvet, a fascinating

combination: dangerous and smooth. "Perhaps I'll see you there, then."

"That'd-that'd be nice."

Nice?

He had never removed, the hand from her back. Now he brought up the other one and stroked her

cheek lightly with the back of his fingers. The sensation was so liquid, so gentle, she nearly

melted into a puddle at his feet. Then, slowly, his head came down and his mouth covered hers.

Her eyelids drifted closed, and the world went somewhere else, as the shape and the pressure of-

his mouth eclipsed everything. After a long, timeless moment, gripped by some mysterious

suspense, she parted her lips and touched her tongue to him, and tasted him. He tasted like fresh

air and something else, something that was entirely, uniquely himself.

Then his hand shifted to cradle the back of her head, and he kissed her deeply. His tongue thrust

into her mouth and stroked at hers, delving in hard, and she moaned in surprise, in delight. This

is what it all means, this explosion of flavor and intensity of feeling; she kissed him back,

eagerly, shakily, falling into this new eroticism and drowning in it.

Chance sucked in a hissing breath, pulling back just long enough to stare at her with eyes that

glittered hot like a raptor's, and then he plunged down again and ravished her mouth.

She clung to his shoulders mindlessly.' He had turned her inside out, and all her nerve endings

were raw, exposed to the warm summer breeze. When he ran his hand up her back to press her

closer against his body, it was like being jolted with a strong electric current.

" ...why haven't you come in yet-hey! Mary? Who the hell are you kissing?"

The young, imperious voice penetrated her heated mind slowly. It apparently did the same for

Chance, who lifted his head. She made the oddest, most shocking sound when his mouth left

hers. It sounded so needy, so like a whimper. Through blurred eyes, she saw his nostrils flare,

and his hand, at the nape of her neck, spasmed tight in an instinctively possessive grip.

Two observations, then: Tim was at the front door, now sounding offended. And she was clinging

to Chance like a limpet. She dropped hold of him fast, they fell away from each other, and she

turned to Tim defensively.

"Why-why-are you spying on me, Tim?" She was-having trouble getting her breath back. God,

she was having trouble getting any kind of presence of mind back.

She turned to look at Chance, who had whipped away, putting his back to the two of them. As

she watched, he ran both hands through his hair, pivoted back toward the scene again, and

regarded Tim's lanky frame with narrowed eyes. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

She watched shock go over Tim's bony face. Then the boy drew himself up very tall-and he was,

too, much taller than she was-and he shot back snottily, "I'm her brother, you moron."

"Tim!" Mary exclaimed in a shocked voice. He stalked over to wrap a skinny, protective arm

around her, glaring at the intruder.

"And Victor's on the phone for you," Tim added pointedly to her.

Chance put his hands on his hips. He looked composed again, almost remote, except that his eyes

were dilated black as sin, and his expression was tight. "Who the hell is Victor?"

"Her fiancé," 'Snapped Tim defiantly.

Mary sputtered as she ogled her brother; "What has gotten into you?" she demanded. Then she-

said emphatically to Chance, "He's just a friend!"

Chance frowned sharply. "I thought you said you were her brother."

"I am!"

"No, I mean Victor!" she exclaimed.

His eyebrows shot up. Was that an evil gleam in his eye? "Victor is your brother?"

"No, he's her fiancé!"

"He is not!" She punched Tim in the side. "Timothy, stop it! Victor is just a friend. This little

demon is my brother."

"Your very protective brother, I see." Chance stepped forward and held out his hand. "I'm Chance

Armstrong. I gave your sister a ride home from the hospital."

"Chance?" muttered Tim, his leery gaze sliding sideways to hers. Something undefinable seemed

to pass between the man and the boy. Mary couldn't decipher it. Whatever it was, it was

decidedly a male thing, something in Chance's unwavering, cool gaze that made Tim's bristling

slowly die down. He reached out uncertainly and received a firm, no-nonsense handshake from

the older man. "I, er, how d' you do?"

Oh, now he remembers his manners, she thought distractedly. But she noticed Tim still hadn't let

go of her.

Chance looked at Mary and gave her a nod. "I'd better be going," he said quietly. "See you later?"

"I-yes, see you later." She held out her hand. He gave her fingers a brief, hard squeeze, and then

he strolled down the steps and to his Jeep.

Tim led Mary inside. She watched over her shoulder as the Jeep's headlights came on and

Chance drove away.

"Mary? What are you looking at? You were really kissing that guy. I've never seen you do that.

Did you forget what I said? Victor's on the phone-unless he's hung up by now."

"Huh?" Mary murmured dreamily. "Oh, of course."

Tim. was right. She'd never been kissed like that before. What kind of a kiss was that anyway? It

was the kind that sucked your soul out of your body. Hey, she wanted to call out to the man

who'd just left. You forgot to give my soul back. Instead she went in to answer the phone.

Some time later ...