Karen studied herself in the hotel room mirror. Her silky slip skimmed her curves nicely and her chestnut curls still bounced when she tossed her head. She could see Joe watching her, fiddling with his tie, standing behind her. She threw him a saucy smile, bounced a hip and asked, "Do I look like the mother of the groom?"

"You look like a pretty sexy mom to me," he answered, stepping up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. "Besides, you don't know that our son is getting married, yet."

She leaned back against his chest. Their eyes met in the mirror. They made a good looking couple. His Mediterranean dark hair, eyes and complexion balanced her creamy Midwestern skin and occasional freckles. Of course, gray wisps drifted through the dark at his temples, and his "love handles" suggested one too many plates of Mamma Stevens' spaghetti and meatballs. Still, they really didn't look old enough to be the parents of a twenty-one year old, but they were. And they were here in Colorado Springs to see him graduate from the Air Force Academy.

"Of course I know. Mothers always know these things. Why else would he have asked us to fly out here so early?" Her smile dimmed. She turned her head, pressing it against his chest. "Makes me feel old, Joe. I'm not ready for Mark to be grown."

"Well, you're only as old as you feel," Joe murmured, nuzzling her neck, "and right now, you feel pretty good." He tightened his embrace, his blood warming, as it did whenever they were close.

Karen turned within the circle of his arms and slipped her own around his neck. "You're a nice man, Mr. Stevens," she whispered. "I remember why I keep letting you sleep with me." They kissed slowly and deliciously, moving even closer together, allowing the warm, sensual feelings of the moment to drift around them.

"But," Karen said, leaning back, "Mark will be downstairs soon--much too soon--to pick us up, and I have to finish dressing."

Joe smiled and nodded. "Hold those thoughts, woman--we'll continue this later."

He patted her rear affectionately. She turned to pick up her dress. He shook his head in wonder. She still could turn him to jelly with one of those great "come hither" looks. Not bad for twenty-one years.

She headed into the bathroom, shaking out her dress. She dropped it over her head, brushing out the few folds. "Thank God for knit." The six-gored skirt flared gently, emphasizing her petite shape. Its jewel neckline and three-quarter sleeves suited her, and the turquoise matched her eyes. It was one of Mark's favorite outfits. She wanted to look extra special when she saw her son. They hadn't seen him since Christmas.

Joe busied himself with his sports jacket while Karen finished dressing. They had flown in from Anaheim, at Mark's request, almost a week before his graduation. He'd said only that he had a surprise for them, some people he wanted them to meet.

"So, missus mind reader, who're the mystery guests we're going to meet?" he asked, toward the door.

Karen's voice floated out of the bathroom. "Miss Right and her parents, of course. She must be in his class. Good heavens, they'll both be in the service. Do you realize, she could end up on one side of the world and he could end up on the other?"

Karen stepped out to face Joe, eyes wide at the prospect of her future daughter-in-law stationed in the far reaches of Thule, Greenland.

"Sit down," Joe said, laughing. "You don't know if there is a Miss Right, or if she's at the Academy, or if there's a wedding planned."

"Yes, I do know. He's always mentioned his current girl in his letters, until this year. He mentioned one last fall, and he hasn't said anything at all in months. There's something going on, I'm sure of it."

Joe laughed and kissed her cheek. "Mark better get here soon or you'll have him half way around the world, trying to reach his true love."

She smiled, picking up the filmy, multicolored silk scarf lying on the bed. She turned back to the mirror, flipping the scarf around her neck, fishing her earrings out of her travel bag. She quickly put them on and as if on cue, the phone rang.

"Yes, operator--Tell him we're on our way down."

Hanging up the phone, she said, "Well, Dad, we timed that just right. We're ready and he's here. Let's go meet his surprise people."

Joe ushered her out the door, and down the walkway balcony of the Embassy Suites. Karen leaned over the balcony to see if she could catch a glimpse of Mark below.

This Embassy was typical of the franchise hotel chain. The building, built in a square, had an open courtyard through the entire center of the building's five stories. Every room opened onto the interior walkway balcony. The ground floor held a beautiful tropical garden, filling the center. Benches and tables throughout the garden, invited weary travelers to sit down, relax and contemplate the beautiful miniature trout stream meandering about. Walkways, paths and bridges led visitors to quiet spaces, tucked away in every corner. It was really quite romantic and restful. Fat, lazy trout glided effortlessly from one feeding spot to another. Nearly every guest took the time to throw a few crumbs to the silvery water creatures. Karen loved these hotels. She always stayed in them when she traveled. They offered a wonderful respite from the grind of book signings and reader greetings.

The glass-walled elevator ride down allowed a full view into the courtyard, but Mark was nowhere in sight. Finally, she spotted him, standing by the lobby desk, when the door opened. "Doesn't he look nice in his uniform, Joe? He really has grown and changed."

Joe nodded and waved. Mark saw them, grinned and crossed the front lobby in long, strong strides.

"Mom--Dad--you look great. Gee, I'm glad you're here. How was your flight? Sorry I couldn't meet you at the plane. Is your hotel room okay?" The words tumbled out while he gave Karen a crushing hug, shaking hands with Joe at the same time.

"Thanks--fine--that's okay--and yes--I think, to answer all your questions," Karen said, laughing at his exuberance. "We're glad to see you, too."

Mark towered over both of them, his 6'4" frame far out-distancing her 5'3" or Joe's 5'11". A marvelous product of good nutrition and Air Force training, he was lean and hard. He made the perfect poster cadet; chestnut hair just showing under his hat, bright smile beaming and blue eyes just matching his dress blues.

"You didn't have to dress up for us, son," Joe said.

"I came straight from school. We had an inspection this afternoon. I didn't take time to change. " Mark stepped between them, draping an arm around each. He guided them through the lobby, toward his waiting vehicle. He deposited Karen in the front seat. Joe climbed in back. He sprinted around the car, hopped in and took off saying, "We have to get going. I told Jenny we'd be at her place by six- thirty."

"Jenny?" Karen asked, throwing an "I told you so" look over the seat. Joe grinned back as she continued, "Is this your mysterious person we're going to meet?"

Mark glanced sheepishly at her, then quickly turned his eyes back to the road. "Well, she's one of them. We're going to have dinner at her parents' house. That's where we're going. I thought it was time you met my fiancée."

Mark held his breath, waiting for his mother's reaction. He glanced sideways, exhaling cautiously. She was half-smiling, biting the edge of her lip. When their gaze met, she said, "Is this really as sudden as it seems? You haven't mentioned her in your letters."

"No, not really. I was afraid that if I talked about her, you'd think I wasn't paying attention to my studies. I think I've managed pretty well. " By this time, a broad smile danced around Karen's lips.

"What's so funny?" he demanded. "This is serious, Mom!"

"I know it is dear, but--"

"Your mother and I just had a discussion about this, son," Joe finished for her. "She's graciously not saying, 'I told you so'. She had you all figured out from the minute you asked us to come out early. You know you can't keep a secret from her for long."

"You're right, Dad," Mark said. "Mom's the only one who could ever keep a secret." He smiled at his mom, relieved she didn't seem too upset.

"Does Jenny have a last name?" asked Karen. "It would be nice to know it before we meet her."

"Oh, sure. It's Carlson. Jennifer Carlson. Her dad teaches at the Academy. They live here in Colorado Springs. I met her at an interschool dance at the community college last September. She's just finishing her second year there. You'll love her. She's smart and pretty and...what's wrong, Mom?"

The smile disappeared from Karen's face and a small frown replaced it at the mention of Jenny's last name.

"I used to know a Carlson family years ago, dear. Long before I met your father. The name brought up some memories I don't generally disturb."

"It's just a coincidence, hon," Joe said, patting Karen's arm. "There are lots of Carlsons in this world."

Karen's smile returned, though a little less bright. "I'm sure you're right," she said, covering Joe's hand with her own, "and the Carlsons I knew were good people. It's a good name. Onward driver, let's meet your intended and her family."

"Oh Mom, it's not that big a deal. Don't get literary on me. We don't need to be in one of your books. " The smile on Mark's face belied the firmness of his tone. He'd read most of her books, over her protests.

"Now dear, you're both too young to be in my books. Anyway, you know I never write about family." She laughed. "I wouldn't want to have my favorite son disown me."

Karen tried to remain excited as the car sped onward. A tiny dark thought tried to edge its way into her consciousness. She pushed it aside. She never expected to see any of the Carlsons again

* * *

Jenny walked around the dining room table one more time, checking the crystal and china, making sure every detail was just right. The silver knife and fork clattered in her hand as she adjusted a place setting for the fifth time. "Leave it alone," she chided herself. "It looks fine."

She'd never met a famous writer before and Karen Stevens was certainly that. Mark had assured her she'd like his mom and his dad, Joe. He'd said they were just regular people, but one never knew about strangers, especially one's future in- laws.

She brushed a stray blond curl from her forehead. Her hair was a mass of golden curls, like her dad's. No matter what she did, the curls always ended up wherever they pleased. She brushed the curl aside again, hearing her mother's voice raise, upstairs. "Well I've got Dad's hair. I hope I have his temper, or lack of it, as well."

Upstairs, Colonel David Carlson was trying very hard not to lose his patience. "I don't understand why you're so upset, Suzanne," he said quietly. "You agree Mark is a fine young man. He certainly comes from a well-to-do family. He's going to be an officer and Jenny is in love with him. She can finish school after they're married, you know that. What else do you want for her?"

"I want a great deal more for my daughter, David," Suzanne said sharply. "Where I come from, a mother who writes trashy novels and a father who's a literary agent don't make well-to-do parents. And while I agree that Mark may be an acceptable young man himself, Jenny is only twenty. Far too young to know her own mind when it comes to picking a husband."

"As I recall, that's the same age you were when we got married," David said, coolly.

"I would say that proves my point," Suzanne said. "I don't want Jenny to go through the lonely, empty years as a military wife like I did, to end up an academy teacher's wife."

She spat the words out as though they were too distasteful to keep in her mouth. "I want better for her than what I've ended up with." She stamped her foot impatiently to make her point.

"I'm sorry your life has been so terrible, Suzanne," David said, adjusting his tie. There was no reasoning with her, when she was in one of her moods. "You should have married someone with more ambition, I guess."

"Well, I certainly had the opportunity, you know that." She tossed her wavy blond locks away from her face, giving him one of her regal, down-the-nose stares. "Several young men wanted to marry me."

"Maybe you should have encouraged one of them more. You seemed eager enough to marry me, at the time."

"Oh, you're impossible," Suzanne said, quickly. "We're talking about Jenny and Mark, not you and I."

"Well, speaking of Jenny, I'm going down to see how she's doing," David said. "She's nervous as a cat and you're not helping things. I know you can be a wonderful hostess, Suzanne. I suggest you be one with your daughter's future in- laws, if you want to see her at all after she and Mark are married. I would say they're going to get married, no matter what you want. They certainly have my blessing."

With that, David turned on his heel and walked, almost marched, out of their bedroom. Suzanne plopped down at her dressing table, still fuming. "I know you can be a good hostess, Suzanne," she mimicked, surveying herself in the mirror. "Humph! mister high and mighty."

A shadow caught her eye. "Damn!" She leaned forward, touching the corner of her left eye. "Another wrinkle."

"I'm too young for crow's feet." She sat back, looking intently at the image in the mirror. The blond woman looking back at her had a hard edge to her good looks. Nothing obvious, just a look as though she had not genuinely smiled for a long time. A grim expression, a few small vertical frown lines between her eyes, a permanently set jaw line, and a green-eyed gaze with a steely glint to it.

"Of course, I'll be cha-a-rmin' to the great Authoress Karen Stevens," she mused. Any other time she would have been delighted to meet her. Suzanne did read Karen's books, although she had never admitted it to her family. She could not imagine how anyone could write such risqué love scenes, but she loved to read them. Fantasies had long since replaced the real thing between her and David.

The heroines in Karen's stories always kept the upper hand, and their men always kept after them, always attentive, always devoted, much like Ashley to Melanie in Gone With the Wind. It seemed to Suzanne that it ought to be that way in real life, too. But in her real life, reality intruded. Most of the men she knew had other interests, interests that kept them from being the attentive men she felt she deserved. David was no different. When he'd returned from Vietnam, his career took him away more and more. He was always going here or there; his skills were always in demand somewhere else. Being a military wife was nowhere near as glamorous or exciting as she'd imagined. An officer's wife was expected to be a good soldier too, and not be upset when her husband had to be gone. Keeping up the home front had not been on her list of things to do.

She frowned and squinted into the mirror again. The image intruded into her thoughts. She'd had to work much too hard, she thought. And David hadn't been much help. He seemed to expect her to show more enthusiasm for him and his work, more than she was willing to show or really feel. Letting men know how you really felt was never a good idea, as far as Suzanne was concerned. It left you too vulnerable and could cause you too much pain.

Besides, having a baby around seemed to complicate things. It had been baby makes three from the very beginning. Suzanne would have been perfectly happy to hire a nanny for Jennifer and turn the child-rearing activities over to her, as was done in truly civilized, wealthy homes.

It was David who insisted she do the mothering herself. It sapped her strength and left her more than mildly irritated with him. He seemed to care more about Jennifer than he did her. He had doted on his small, young daughter, bringing her presents from every trip, watching and enjoying her every activity.

Suzanne felt his attention should have been more properly lavished upon her. She was, after all, his wife. She had resisted his suggestion that perhaps Jennifer should have a sibling, that being an only child was not a good idea. One child was one more than she had ever wanted.

She had made sure that she would have no more children during one of his extended tours. She had been able to convince her doctor that she really would not be able to cope with more than one child. He was such an understanding man. So helpful and attentive.

She shook her head, remembering the scene when David had found out about the small surgical procedure. He didn't understand her unwillingness to have more children. His lingering disappointment, coupled with her disinterest in him, separated them further and further over the years. They drifted into leading essentially separate lives under the same roof. There were advantages to being an officer's wife and David seemed to be in no hurry to go anywhere else.

The green-eyed gaze turned to ice. Suzanne stared hard at her reflection, shaking her head. But now, her daughter was about to make the same mistake, and she was going to try to stop her, somehow. Jennifer had turned out to be an attractive, charming girl. At least she could try to see that her daughter made a more socially acceptable marriage--one that would put her into the upper levels of Colorado Springs' society. If they were going to be here for the rest of their lives, they might as well join the best social circles. Jennifer was far too pretty to be wasted on a struggling, young lieutenant. She belonged at a young banker's elbow, perhaps.

"Well, I'm not going to be standing there like one of the servants when the queen bee walks in. David can greet our guests. I'll greet them a little later." At that thought, a smile finally played across her face. She leaned back slightly and listened to the faint bustling downstairs.

* * *

"Do you think she'll come down soon, Dad?" asked Jenny, glancing toward the staircase.

"I honestly don't know, sweetheart", David said, giving her a hug. "Your mom loves you, no matter how upset she may get with me. She'll be fine and she'll be down, I'm sure."

"I don't know why she picks on you all the time," Jenny said. "I think you're great."

"Your mamma always wanted to live in a big house over on Chelton Road, with a housekeeper and fine things. She was never satisfied being a colonel's wife. She doesn't think I'm ambitious enough."

"Well, I think she's wrong," Jenny said firmly, "and I love you just the way you are. Anyway, how do I look?"

She turned around in front of her father, holding out the softly pleated skirt of her pretty yellow and white summer cotton frock. Its tulip sleeves gently enfolded her shoulders and its deeply scooped neckline showed off her long, slender neck to great advantage. A thin gold chain lay gently around her neck. A gold filigree heart, set with a perfect jade oval, hung suspended from the chain; one of the presents her father had brought her, from one of his trips to the Far East.

"You look marvelous, darling," David said, appreciatively. Jenny was a very attractive young woman, with luminous green eyes, like her mother's. "I understand why Mark fell for you the first time he saw you."

"Oh, Dad." Jenny blushed prettily at her father's compliment, pleased, nevertheless, at his assessment of her appearance.

Hearing the sound of gravel crunching in the driveway, he motioned to her and laughingly ordered, "Get the door, my dear, I think our company's here."

Jenny laughed and flipped him a sloppy salute. "Aye, Aye, sir. Anything you say, Colonel. I'll get the door, sir."

* * *

Jenny threw open the door at the bell. She held out her arms to Mark, saying to Karen and Joe, "Please come in, won't you? We're so glad you're here."

Mark gave her a quick hug and a kiss and crossed the hallway to David. "Good evening, sir. Good to see you again. I'd like you to meet my--mother?"

The last was a question rather than a statement. He'd heard a small, strangled sound coming from behind him. Karen had taken a few steps into the hall and had stopped in her tracks, eyes transfixed on the two tall, blond people in front of her. Her hands flew to her mouth, muffling a tiny cry. The name wasn't a co-incidence. And it wasn't John. It was David Carlson, in person.

David had a similar reaction. He took a step backward, as though he'd seen a ghost. He was dumfounded, unable to say a word. What was Michelle Woods doing standing in his hallway? Where did the name Karen Stevens come from? What kind of an awful joke was this?

"Michelle?" He struggled to get the name out.

Joe saw the split-second looks pass between them. He heard the name, out of Karen's past, echo from David's lips. She'd never used the name, since her first husband's death. He reached to take Karen's arm, but she'd already recovered and was smiling broadly at both Mark and David.

"Mark darling, you can't spring surprises like this on your old mom," she said brightly. She walked by him, patting his cheek in passing. "You've brought a ghost from Christmas past and you don't even know it." She continued to David, who was standing like a stone soldier.

"How are you, David?" she asked, holding out her arms, inviting a hug. "And how are your parents? It's been years and years since I've seen them and you. Lots and lots of things have happened to me, since then."

"Obviously, Michelle," he said weakly, following her lead, returning her hug. "Mother and Dad are in southern California, living in a retirement village. They're fine. I don't understand this at all. What...?"

She quickly touched her finger to his lips to stop any stray comments. "I'll explain to all of you," she said, her mind racing, hoping he would just keep still and listen.

Jenny and Mark stared at one another, stunned at David's calling Karen by a completely different name and even more stunned by her obviously answering to it. This certainly wasn't the introduction they had envisioned.

"Well, isn't someone going to introduce me?" asked Suzanne, a trifle loudly. She had come down when the door opened and was standing on the stairway landing--a tall, blond vision in a flowing silky shirtdress, a soft peridot green, that complimented her eyes. Its long full sleeves with button cuffs accentuated her graceful arms. Her entrance had been spoiled by David's reaction to the stranger, yet obviously not-a-stranger, in their hallway.

"Of course," Jenny said quickly. "Mother, this is Mark's mother and father, Joe and Karen Stevens--My mother, Suzanne Carlson."

Suzanne came gracefully down the last short flight of stairs, reaching out a hand to Karen. "I've read all your books, Mrs. Stevens. You have such a vivid imagination."

"Thank you," Karen replied, taking Suzanne's offered hand and quickly releasing it, "but please, call me Karen."

Karen's mind raced, behaving as she did in any interview, making small talk while collecting her thoughts. "Could we sit down, for a little while? I'm sure David is just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. You all deserve an explanation."

David shook his head, coming out of his daze. "Of course, come into the living room."

The entire group moved into the formal living room. Karen sat in the big wingback chair by the fireplace. Joe stepped quietly behind her. Mark and Jenny squeezed onto the small settee, facing the open fireplace, where a fire gently glowed. Their gaze darted from one another to each parent, looking for some hint of explanation of the surprising turn of events.

Suzanne sat in the smaller chair on the opposite side of the fireplace and David stood, rubbing one hand across his mouth, in front of the fire. He couldn't force the smile he knew should be there, for appearance's sake. He didn't trust himself to look at Michelle while she talked. And he didn't want to look at Suzanne either. He had no idea of what Michelle intended to say.

"As you can tell, David and I knew one another, in almost another life," Karen started out gently. "I was Michelle Karen Woods then, only I never used 'Karen'. 'Karen' is my real middle name. " She looked up at Joe while she spoke. He nodded, patting her shoulder for encouragement, while a look of bewilderment hovered on his own countenance.

"My first husband, Eric Woods, and I moved in next door to John and Dorine Carlson, in Bellevue, Nebraska, years ago." She watched David intently and saw him straighten at the mention of his parents and Eric. "David's father, John, was stationed at Strategic Air Command Headquarters. David had just graduated from high school. We weren't too much older than he. David and Eric became great friends. We all used to go motorcycling together. That's how he died, David." She hesitated, hoping for a reaction.

"Died--" David echoed Karen's words, filling the space in her comment, shuddering at its sound.

"After you went to the Academy and your parents moved to the Rapid City airbase."

"Mmm." David nodded, unable to add any more.

She stopped. David turned, leaning his hands and head against the mantle, closing his eyes against the story she was relating to the others. Not a sound came from the rest as she continued. "Eric and I were riding. We got broadsided by a drunk in an Omaha intersection. Eric was thrown against a concrete pylon in the intersection and was killed outright. I was badly hurt, in bed for nearly six months. I went to stay with my sister to recuperate, and started writing seriously then. I wrote under a couple of different pen names. I finally settled on the name Karen Harrison just before I met you, darling," she said, reaching again for Joe's hand, "when you became my agent."

He gripped her hand closely and nodded for her to continue. "When Joe and I got married, I decide to switch to writing under my own new name, Karen Stevens and have written under that name ever since." She stopped, waiting for what she had said to sink in with everyone.

"David, I know you have a lot to absorb tonight, I'm sure Eric's death and my re-appearance, with a new husband and a new name and a son, are a lot to handle all at once."

She stopped, waiting for some sign that he understood what she had just done. "Seeing you again has been a real surprise for me, I know."

"You're right, Michelle...I mean Karen." David said slowly, into the fireplace. "But I'll be fine, just give me a minute." He took a deep breath, then turned to face the group. "I'm sorry about Eric. You must have missed him terribly. I remember how close you were."

"Thank you, David. I knew his death would be a shock. The three of us had some good times together."

"He was a very good friend, Michelle. The memories go back a long time." His eyes locked momentarily with hers, both understanding that for the time being, the past would stay buried with Eric.

He turned to face Joe. "And I'm not being a very good host, Mr. Stevens..."

"Joe, please."

"Joe. Welcome to our home. You have a fine son. I'm delighted to meet you." He smiled at his daughter. "We've sort of overwhelmed your evening, darling. This was supposed to be your party, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir. It was." Mark spoke up quickly as he took Jenny's hand. "Jenny and I thought you all ought to meet one another, since we're all going to be related. We plan to be married as soon as I graduate."

"Oh, no!" gasped Suzanne. Jenny looked at her in horror. Suzanne struggled to regain her composure. Everyone was staring at her. She seemed to be the only one unhappy about the announcement of such a short engagement period. She groped for words. "I mean, dear, Mark's graduation is next weekend. We can't possibly put together a nice wedding in a week."

"Oh, Mom," laughed Jenny. "Big old fashioned weddings aren't my style. We may just get married under a tree in the park, like some of our friends already have. Or we could just run down to the Justice of the Peace."

"You can do whatever you want, sweetheart," David said firmly. "The setting doesn't matter. We'll be there, if you want us." He would not let anything spoil his daughter's happiness. She was the only thing in the world that really meant anything to him at this point in his life.

"We want you all there," Mark said quickly. "Mom...Dad...I thought maybe you two could stay a couple more days after graduation, for the wedding. That's why I asked you to come early, so you'd have time to rearrange things," he said, addressing Karen. He knew her schedule was the one to be worked around. Karen stood up, arms outstretched toward Jenny and Mark. "Of course we'll stay, darling. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Mark and Jenny rose to meet her hugs. "We can rearrange things, can't we Joe?"

"Sure," he said, joining the group. The Carlsons seemed to be nice people and his son seemed happy. Whatever Mark wanted to do was fine with him.

David stepped up to hug Jenny, as the Stevens enfolded Mark. He gave Suzanne a meaningful stare over Jenny's shoulder. Suzanne had not budged. He didn't want her to cause a scene and spoil the evening. She finally stood up slowly and joined them, giving her daughter a hug. A tear slid down her face.

"Mothers of the bride are allowed to cry," she said defiantly, sniffling away the tear. The remark was aimed at David. "I just want you to have the best of everything, darling." she said to Jenny. "I'd always dreamed of a big, beautiful wedding for my beautiful baby."

Jenny put her arms around her mother. "It will be beautiful, Mom. You'll see. It just won't be a production. It'll be what we want. We'll be happy with it."

Suzanne nodded, pulling a tissue from the sleeve of her dress. She always kept one tucked there for emergencies. David stepped into the quiet that had settled upon the group. "I believe dinner is waiting. Mark and Jenny, would you lead us to the dining room?"

As they passed, he extended his elbow to Karen. "Would you join me, Karen?" he asked, very correctly. They followed Jenny and Mark across the foyer into the candle-lit dining room.

Joe followed suit, extending an elbow to Suzanne, saying. "This has been quite an evening so far."

"You're so right, Mr. Stevens." Suzanne, smiled mechanically, her hostessing experience kicking in.

The flickering candlelight beckoned them into the dining room. Jenny had her mother's flair for the dramatic. Suzanne arched an eyebrow in her daughter's direction when she noticed the fresh flower bouquets gracing the sideboards.

"I thought you'd like them, Mom. You always say fresh flowers make the occasion." Jenny's grin spread wide.

Suzanne had to agree. Those were her words coming out of her daughter's mouth. "They're beautiful, darling. You're becoming quite a decorator."

"You take after your grandmother, Dorine, as well, Jenny." Karen said. "She always had beautiful flowers in the house, remember David? I could never put two flowers in a vase and have them look like they belonged together. She tried to teach me how, but the lessons never took."

David nodded, the memories of his mother's talents sneaking in. Jenny smiled at the praise. "I'd like to be like Gramma Carlson. She's a real peach--although I don't get to see her much, since they moved to California."

Jenny had carefully planned the entire evening. She signaled for the dinner to begin. The help hired for the evening seated them and served the meal effortlessly.

"Did you know Mother Carlson well, Karen?" asked Suzanne.

"As well as you ever know military neighbors, I imagine," Karen answered. "I knew Dorine a lot better than I knew John. He was away a lot. He was on the Inspector General's staff at the time, so he traveled extensively. I'm sure you know about that, Suzanne."

"Yes, David has had to be gone much of the time. It's something you'll have to deal with, Jenny. You'll want to think about that, dear."

David shot Suzanne an icy stare. She returned it in kind but dropped her voice.

"We have been talking about that, Mrs. Carlson." Mark said. "But it's not quite the same as when you and Col. Carlson were married. Most of the places I'd be sent to, Jenny could go with me. So she wouldn't be left here like you had to be."

"Hmm." Suzanne arched another eyebrow. "That would be much better, if it really works out that way, dear."

* * *

Karen watched as the evening passed. Jenny was a very self-confident young woman. She'd make an excellent officer's wife. She was very much like her grandmother. Karen had learned much about military life from her, during the summer they were neighbors. Jenny seemed to be at ease with strangers and genuinely friendly. She'd need that, if she was to be an officer's wife. That tiny dark cloud tried to force its way into Karen's mind again. She firmly pushed it back. She'd deal with that dark thought later.

"Well," Jenny said, "shall we adjourn to the den for coffee and drinks?"

"Whatever you say, dear." David smiled. The evening had been surprisingly pleasant, thanks to his daughter's skill. Pride swelled in his chest. She'd make Mark a fine wife. And with Mark second in his class, he'd be a fine officer, and hopefully a good husband.

Jenny laughed. "Paul, would you serve coffee in the den please?" The waiter bowed stiffly and returned to the kitchen. Jenny stood up. "Shall we go?"

The group retraced its steps to the hall and filtered into the den, each one snuggling into the inviting, overstuffed leather furniture waiting there.

The waiter appeared with a tray full of wine glasses and a bottle of champagne. The maid followed with the silver coffee service. She set it down on the coffee cart and left.

David glanced at the waiter. "Paul, why don't you pour us all a glass of champagne. This evening deserves a toast."

"Yes, sir." The waiter quickly poured the six glasses, served them and left the room.

"Now then," David said, lifting his glass, "I propose a toast--to our wonderful children. May they be happy the rest of their lives, and nothing come between them."

"Here, here," echoed Joe. The rest raised their glasses, then polished off their champagne.

Jenny spoke up. "I think we should all have some coffee, before you leave-- just to finish off the evening." She deftly poured the coffee. "See Mom, just like Gramma Carlson taught me."

Suzanne nodded. It had never occurred to her that Mother Carlson had been preparing Jenny for military life, but it certainly seemed that her influence was coming out now. The evening would end soon. She would have much to say later to Colonel David Carlson. This was happening entirely too fast. Particularly after the revelation that David and Mark's mother were old friends. She didn't relish the thought of being in-laws with one of David's "old friends".

Jenny snuggled contentedly against Mark. It had been a pleasant ride back from dropping his folks at their hotel. "I truly liked your mom and dad. You were right. They are just ordinary folks."

Mark laughed. "I told you they were."

"And to think my dad and your mom knew one another. If my dad had just graduated from high school when he knew your mom, he would have been about 18. How old was your mom, then?"

Mark thought a little, then answered, "she would have been 27, I think." He paused again. "Yeah, that's right, she's fifty-two and Dad's fifty-six."

"Really? I thought your mom was the same age as my mom. She sure looks as young as my mom."

"I'll tell her that," he said, laughing. "She'll be pleased."

"Well for heavens sake, don't tell my mom I said that. She'd have a fit. Your folks were older when you were born, weren't they?"

"A little. I guess I knew Mom had been married once before but it's never, ever mentioned. It never seemed important, before."

"Well, it's not important now, either," Jenny declared as they turned into the drive. "Since they did know one another, it should just make things easier. They're not all strangers, like some in-laws."

"Deep thoughts for a beautiful mind," he said, switching off the car and slipping his arms around her.

"Mmmmm," was all that escaped as she raised her lips to his waiting mouth. He kissed her, full and hard, hungry for her.

She shifted slightly in his arms as he kissed her again, this time more tenderly. His tongue traced the edge of her upper lip, very delicately, then slid ever so gently between her barely parted lips.

She leaned back and said reluctantly, "You'll have to be content with just kisses tonight, my love. I'm really not feeling well. This evening's been a real drain."

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked gently. "No morning sickness?"

"No," she said quietly. "The baby's still our little secret. After we're married, I won't care if Mom starts to count months. It won't matter."

"I guess we should have been more careful. Your mom's really not happy about the rush."

"She'll get over it. It doesn't bother me, if it's all right with you." She waited for his response, looking him straight in the eyes.

He pulled her close again. "Of course it's all right with me. The sooner the better! I want you and our baby more than anything else in the world. And you know that!" He kissed her again and she returned his kiss eagerly. She knew his feelings full well, she just needed to hear him say the words again.

He finally asked, "Shall I just go for now?"

She nodded. "I think so. We have all the time in the world ahead of us. One night won't make any difference."

They walked hand in hand to her front door. Her dad had even turned the light off, so they would have some privacy on the porch. She wondered if Mom knew that he always turned it off, after she made a point of turning it on.

"So you can see to get in," she would always say.

Their final kiss was a long, hungry kiss. Their bodies strained to be together as their minds kept them apart for now. "I love you, Jenny," Mark whispered into her hair.

"I love you too, Mark, darling," she whispered back. "Don't worry, everything's going to be fine. You'll see. Mom will come around."

"You're an optimist, just like my mother." He smiled, watching her unlock the door. "Goodnight, Jen-Jen." He gave her one last, quick kiss and turned to go.

"Good night yourself, lover."

Jenny reluctantly closed the door, after watching him walk back to his car. She leaned against the door, clicking the lock in place, listening for her parents. Only the night lights were on. Evidently they were already in bed. Perhaps it had been peaceful while she had been gone. All things considered, the evening had been a success.

She walked quickly up the stairs and into her room. She had to get some much needed sleep.

* * *

David heard her door close. He lay still and straight in his twin bed. Suzanne was finally asleep in the other twin. The scene had been anything but peaceful after Jenny had left with Mark and his parents. Suzanne had barely let the door close, when she turned on him.

"Well, David, what's the rest of this story?" Suzanne was enjoying herself. "You've never mentioned this old friend. What was she to you, back in Bellevue, when you were just a boy? Looks like the Mrs. Robinson-type to me!"

"Stop it, Suzanne. Every word Michelle...Karen said was true. I was just a kid then. And she was very happily married to Eric." He was grateful for Karen's careful telling of the story. He could indeed say that everything she said was the truth.

"Then why were you so shocked to see her? You acted like you had some deep, dark secret to hide."

"There you go again, always imagining things," he said, getting more comfortable as he talked. "The woman is using a completely differently name. I had no idea the author Karen Stevens was the Michelle Woods I used to know. That was a real shock. I had no idea she was remarried. And I had no idea she was Mark's mother!"

David turned to face Suzanne, deciding to take this one step further. "But, I'll tell you the truth. I would have loved to have had her mean something more to me from back then. I had a terrific crush on her the summer I lived beside them. And she didn't give me the time of day. Eric knew it and he just laughed at me--told me I had to get in line--that lots of guys thought Michelle...Karen was great. And he was right, Suzanne, she was great. But she was in love with him. There's nothing more to tell." He had ascended the staircase as he spoke, with Suzanne following close behind. "They were a super couple. It's a shame he got killed."

"Well, she certainly seems to have an interesting past to say the least. I told you they weren't the kind of people Jenny needs to be involved with." She couldn't resist one last jab.

"They're exactly the kind of people Jenny should be involved with." he shot back. "My friend Eric is dead. Michelle is remarried. They seem to be happy and they're Mark's parents. That's all there is to it." He smashed his fist into the bedroom door, flinging it open as he finished, surprising Suzanne with the outburst.

She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. He did seem genuinely moved by his friend's death and by the evening's events. He rarely showed any forceful emotion, especially physical.

She let the atmosphere cool a little while they silently changed into their night clothes, carefully not interfering with one another's routine. Then, she started once again to speak her mind.

"I still don't approve of such a hasty marriage. We can't invite friends for a wedding in a week. They'll never be able to come. What will people think? A wedding under a tree in the park! Indeed! And what about your parents? And mine? They'll be devastated to miss their granddaughter's wedding. You know that."

David considered the last remark. He didn't care at all about what other people might think, but Suzanne was right about his parents and hers. They all adored Jenny, just as he did. Finally he said, "You're right about the folks. I'll speak to Jenny. Surely a few days won't make that much difference. But, as independent as those two are, we're lucky they didn't just head down to the local justice and tell us afterwards."

She could not resist one more comment. "Good. Every day we delay them gives her one more day to change her mind. Maybe I can still talk some sense into her, if you won't."

David let the remark slide by and Suzanne slipped into her bed on the far side of the room. They still shared the same room, for "appearances sake" even though they had opted for twin beds years ago.

Walking into the bathroom, he marveled at how easily he had told Suzanne the first part of the story. Karen had set things up well, she had always been quick. She made it possible for him to tell the truth and yet tell Suzanne nothing at all. She had protected her family and his.

And he knew he would go out of his mind if he had to be around her. He was amazed and appalled at the feelings raging within him. His body ached with remembrance, so deep he shook all over; even though their last parting had been angry and hurtful; even though more than twenty years had past; even though she was obviously happily married to someone else. He thought he had put her completely out of his mind. He thought he had sealed himself away from ever having feelings of such intensity for anyone, after their last meeting.

He could still smell the wet, cut-grass clippings and feel the humid, overbearing heat of the first time he set eyes on Michelle, on that torrid mid-June Nebraska day, so many years ago. Staring into the mirror, the memories flooded in. The remembered rake handle bit into his clinched fist as he stood there, being drawn back into the scene of years ago. Against his will, the picture of himself, young, blond and bronzed by the Nebraska sun, formed in his mind and in the mirror, as though it were today.

* * *

His back ached and his hands hurt from raking grass clippings. He clawed up another soggy, wet clump of cut grass. It made no sense to him to spend good money and time fertilizing and watering grass in this hot, hostile state, then spend even more time cutting and throwing the grass away. One day the humidity could be higher than the temperature, the next day, it could be so dry the dust would blow from the flower beds. But David knew there was no arguing with his father.

"Have to keep the yard up, David. Never know who might be your neighbors around here."

His dad was very rank conscious. But all military people were. And David knew his dad was right. Your personal life wasn't really your personal life if you were in the Air Force. Even his early grades at school had been the subject of discussion. But that was past. He had just graduated at the top of his class and had received an appointment to the Air Force Academy. His parents were pleased that he was continuing the military tradition of the family, especially in this time of turmoil, what with protestors outside the base gates nearly every day.

And the house next door had just sold, probably to military people. This housing development was very close to the base, within the five minute limit required of all essential personnel like his father. The real estate agent had put up a SOLD sign yesterday. David was anxious to see who was going to move in, even though he wouldn't be there long. He would be leaving in the fall for the Academy.

He looked up, startled, to hear a dull rattle-roar coming over the hill towards the house. That was unusual. Vehicles were normally very quiet in this neighborhood. A big Harley-Davidson Electra-Glide topped the hill, and continued down the street, directly toward him. The bike rider and a passenger lounged in the spacious seats. The passenger leaned back against the trunk behind her, letting her hair blow free in the breeze. He let out a low whistle as the bike pulled into the drive next door. "Dad'll have a fit if the kids next door have Harleys."

He watched, spellbound. The big bike shuddered, coughed and died as the driver killed the engine. He stood up over the bike, balancing it, to allow the passenger to dismount. David switched his attention from the bike to the girl getting off the back. His gaze riveted on her.

"Wow, I hope her folks bought the house, not his," He gave her a quick once over. The blood started to pound in his temples as he stared at her.

She totally focused on brushing the stray dust from her cut-off blue jeans. Her hands ran over the front of her shorts, dusted off the back, then slid down the front of her skin tight tube top.

David found himself wishing mightily they were his hands helping to remove the offending dust. He felt himself reddening, heat rising up his neck, realizing she had nothing on under that pink tube top. Small perfect bumps appeared under the material when she skimmed her hands unselfconsciously over her chest.

She looked like a pixie come to life, petite and bouncy, with a beautiful laugh that echoed off the house. "Hurry, Eric. I want to at least peek in the windows."

She reached up, running her fingers through that mane of chestnut colored hair, blown wild by the ride. The young man had rocked the big bike forward on its stand and climbed off. He smiled at her. "Don't worry, Michelle, we can do more than that. I have the key."

She ran up the stairs to the door and excitedly danced in place as Eric followed. "Go on in," he said, unlocking the door. "I'll be right there."

Eric turned and started toward the young man standing in the next yard who was trying to recover his composure, trying not to stare. Eric had seen that look before, when people met his wife for the first time.

"Hi," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Eric Woods. My wife, Michelle, just went inside. I guess we're going to be neighbors."

David swallowed hard, then shook Eric's offered hand. "I'm David Carlson, sir. My folks and I live here. " He couldn't help himself. "She's your wife? She doesn't look old enough to be married to anybody."

David faltered and blushed, trying to cover his obvious disappointment, embarrassed at being so forward with a stranger. But he knew this was not a military man. Not with that hair cut.

"I know," Eric laughed. "The people at the college think she's one of my students. We do a lot of explaining."

"You're a teacher?" David asked, trying to extend the conversation, hoping the vision would come back outside.

"Yes. I teach math at Bellevue College." Eric turned as the door scritched against its sill. "Michelle, come here a minute. Meet one of our neighbors."

She came toward them, eyes shining like gemstones, turquoise blue in the afternoon sun. She was pleased with her new house. "Oh Eric, there's a room for your study and a room for my sewing room and just...oh...room for everything."

Eric slipped his arm around her, gave her a quick kiss and released her just as fast. "There ought to be room for everything with just the two of us in nine rooms. Michelle, meet David Carlson. David--Michelle."

She smiled directly at him, lighting up his sky with her smile. The smile turned into an ornery grin as Eric continued, "David doesn't think you look old enough to be married to an old guy like me."

"Oh, I didn't mean that, sir," David protested, but she laughed that wonderful laugh again and waved her hand. "Don't worry, David, he's just kidding you. It's a problem...looking like you're sixteen when you're twenty-seven. I spend a lot of time proving who I am and how old I am."

"Come on, Eric," she urged, taking his hand. "I want to show you the house. It's been nice to meet you, David," she said, signaling the end of the conversation.

As Michelle dragged Eric toward the house, he looked over his shoulder and shouted back, "See you later, we're going to be around a while."

Leaning on his rake, David watched them enter the house, shoving the door solidly closed.

"Well, what do you think?" Michelle threw her arms open wide. "Didn't I tell you there's lots of room?"

They stood in the empty living room surveying their new home. Eric slipped his arms around Michelle's waist and pulled her tightly to him. He smiled down into her eyes and said, "Yes, there's plenty of room. And I think you've done it again, bright eyes. I can tell the young man next door thinks you're wonderful. I would guess he has an instant crush on you."

Michelle wrapped her arms around his neck and replied, "Don't be silly. At his age, he'd have a crush on the door post if it had long hair and short shorts. Besides, a kid as good looking as he is probably has to beat girls off with a stick. He doesn't have time for an old married lady like me."

"A pretty special married lady," said Eric, bending to kiss her again, this time much more possessively.

Michelle was wrong on both counts. Through the curtainless picture window, David could see them kiss. David was a shy young man, with occasional girlfriends, but no strong attachments to clutter his bound -for-the-academy life. His sexual adventures up to this point consisted of some rather ordinary necking with his current girl friend and some more graphic fantasies concocted after sneak- reading borrowed copies of Playboy magazine.

He saw them separate, then head toward the back of the house. He turned away, and disappeared into his own house, his own downstairs room. He knew the layout of that house as well as he knew his own. They were nearly all alike in this subdivision. He didn't want to imagine them in their own bedroom.

Eric was so right. David had fallen hard for Michelle. Right then, with one look and one beautiful smile. His youthful, raging hormones hit a new high. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He finally got up and headed into the downstairs bathroom. A cold shower would get rid of the sweat, the dirt, and maybe the hot, hot feelings that were coursing through his body. He couldn't go to the supper table with a "hard-on". Mom would never understand.

The ice cold water droplets beat onto his steamy skin. He heard the roar of the Harley again. They were leaving. David could tell this was going to be a long, hot summer.

* * *

The image in the mirror aged and David stared at himself again. Indeed, the summer had been wonderful and terrible at the same time. He and Eric had become great friends. Eric was like the big brother he never had. And Michelle accepted his adoration, while never allowing it to go beyond the dream stage. Eric adored her and she adored Eric. David accepted that fact. And it made him love her more. He hoped that someday, someone would love him as much as Michelle loved Eric.

They had, of course, been invited to his off-to-college party. They'd given him an engraved money clip, full, along with wishes for success. Michelle had put her arms around his neck and he had bent down to allow her to plant a kiss on his cheek. His hands touched her tiny waist, every so lightly, as she wished him well.

She might as well have branded his cheek with a hot iron. She was his perfect vision of woman, lovely and loving. The girls he knew seemed childish and shallow by comparison.

They sent him off to school and he got on with his life. He threw himself into becoming the best officer he could, in order to live up to his own goal of becoming an aviator, his dream since he had been a small boy, listening to the late night signoff on TV, the pilot "slipping the surly bonds of earth and dancing through clouds on laughter covered wings". He had known since then he wanted to fly planes, more than anything else in the world. He knew they needed pilots for the widening war and he intended to be one of them. He lost track of her when his folks moved to South Dakota, to his dad's next assignment. He'd almost finished at the Academy when he met her again.

David raised his hand to his cheek, rubbing it hard, shoving it into his teeth until it drew blood, to bring himself back to the present, to erase the memories. He could still trace the outline of that first kiss, 25 years later.

He silently cursed his body for betraying him, for responding to this meeting with Michelle differently than his mind wished it to. He angrily slipped out of his pajamas and walked toward that icy cold shower that had controlled his reaction to Michelle when he was young. It would work again. It would take away the unwelcome, even offending, pulsing hardness in his groin.

He had no wish to share the "uprising" with Suzanne. She would refuse him, if he approached her. This unexpected event would prove to her that her suspicions were correct. Standing under the cold, stinging spray, gritting his teeth, he allowed one small tear to silently roll from the corner of his eye, to join the water rolling from his face. One tear of regret for Eric, of anger for Michelle, (he would never easily call her Karen) and most of all, one tear of heartache for himself.

He dressed slowly and finally crawled back into bed. He hated to think about sleep. He did not want to sleep. He knew if he did, he would dream of that very special, secret time that only the two of them knew about. Their very special secret weekend.

* * *

"Do you suppose Mark got home all right?" Karen stood by the window, looking out toward the hotel parking lot.

"He probably drives that road every night, hon," Joe said patiently. "It's not going to be any different because we're here."

"I know," Karen said, smiling, "but I did upset their evening a little."

"If it will make you feel any better, call him. We can afford the phone call. Let him kid you for checking up on him. You'll feel better."

She smiled at him as she picked up the receiver.

"I think I will," she said, dialing, then listening to the phone ring on the other end.

"Hello, darling," she said into the handset. "Just making sure you got home all right. Yes I know, that's just what your father said. Yes, I do feel better. You're going to pick up your dad in the morning, right? Good night to you, too. Love you, Mark. Bye."

"Better now?" asked Joe, patting the bed beside him.

"Don't you hate it when you're always right?" she asked, smiling, as she came toward the bed.

He laughed, and held out his arms, saying gently, "Come on little woman, you've had a busy day."

She crawled in beside him, letting him enfold her in his loving arms. She hadn't even finished snuggling in when the tears started to fall. She was exhausted and had held her composure as long as she could.

"I wondered when you were going to let go," he said, as she clung to him.

"I didn't think I had any tears left," she said, crying quietly, "Those memories are still painful, all these years later."

"It hurts to see David, doesn't it," Joe guessed. "He reminds you of lots of things from long ago."

"Oh yes," she said "many, many things that should stay in the past."

"Well, let's try to put them back in the past," he said quietly. "Let me bring you back to the present."

They slid down into the bed. He pulled her even closer to him and began to kiss away her tears, very, very softly.

"Oh, Joe," she murmured, letting herself go with his feelings. "Love me. Remind me of what a wonderful life we have."

"Whatever you want," he mumbled, his mouth closing over hers. Their bodies stretched together, closer and tighter. Joe's desire began to pulse again and he swelled against her. He slid his hand along the curve of her shoulder, catching the silken strap of her gown. He traced butterfly kisses along her neck and down her shoulder. His tongue sought the hollow of her throat as he gently nudged her gown down, exposing her invitingly full breasts. She moaned quietly and rolled her head backward, slowly raising her chest to his tantalizing tongue.

He nuzzled each pink nipple 'til it was standing stiff with desire and anticipation. His hands continued down her trembling body, trying to bring her pleasure in every way he knew how. He wanted to replace the memories of the past, of the pain he knew she had endured and of the pain at which he could only guess.

She finally began to respond, moving in time with his caresses. As she moved, she reached for the cord holding his pajamas. With a tug and a pull they came loose, sliding down at her push to leave him naked against her.

His mouth again closed over hers. His tongue slid into the space between her lips. She resisted slightly, teasing, holding him out, then sucking him in. His hand slid gently between her inner thighs. He caressed her, drawing his finger tips against one tingling surface, then slowly along the other. She trembled as her legs parted, allowing him to feel her swollen moistness.

He stretched out completely over her. Then, balanced above her, he moved down to touch her with his throbbing shaft. She arched high to meet him. "Oh, yes, Joe, yes" she whispered, breathlessly, parting her legs even further to receive him. He lowered himself, pulsing his hips gently, tempting her even more.

She began to rock her hips in time with him. Her fingers unconsciously wrapped around his hip bones, raising her hips to receive his pulses. Meaningless love sounds escaped her lips as she anticipated his next touch. He descended full force, surging with an ecstasy made even better for the waiting. Their bodies matched pulse for pulse, spasm for spasm until both were exhausted.

He finally rolled to his side, taking her with him, unwilling to separate, holding her close. She clung to him, wanting to stay as one for as long as possible. She did love him. He had been her life and her love for a long time.

Joe finally drifted off to sleep. Karen carefully pulled up the covers. Rolling away, she lay there, staring at the ceiling. He was such a good man. He deserved better than what she was about to do to him. So did her son. But her small indiscretion of the past may have just caught up with her. She had to find out the truth. Even if the truth would destroy all of the men she loved.

The past crowded in on her. The memories of David forced themselves once again into her mind. Everything she'd said tonight had been the truth, as far as she had gone. Except for one small thing. It wasn't the first time David had heard the story of Eric's death. The details of their meeting, four years after Eric's death were still crystal clear in her mind. As she stared into the darkness, the bookstore in Colorado Springs again became real.

* * *

Colorado Springs 1974

Karen's hand ached from signing autographs. She hadn't realized how grueling having a best seller could be. She'd been on tour for three weeks, working her way back from New York. She'd come to Denver and decided to do a session in the Springs as well. As her agent, Joe Stevens was pleased. The more books she signed, the more they sold.

But still, he wanted her to come back to Anaheim. She didn't want to tell him she was deliberately taking her time coming back. She needed time to think--to consider his proposal.

Four years didn't seem like much. It seemed like only yesterday that Eric had been killed. But Joe was probably right, she couldn't continue to live in the past. She had to get on with her life. And she had no doubt that Joe loved her.

He'd been with her most of that time--first acting as her agent, handling her stories while she was recuperating, then getting closer and closer to her, urging her on. He became her number one promoter as she wrote more and more, getting better and better, until, now she had her first best seller. They had become best friends, then lovers. They were good together. She owed him a lot. But she wasn't sure she would make him the kind of wife he deserved. She still had some thinking to do.

All this rumbled around in her head, while she signed book after book, smiling at one person after another. Then her pen stopped, mid-letter--

"Michelle? Michelle Woods? Is that really you?"

Karen looked up into azure blue eyes, that just matched the Air Force blue dress uniform standing in front of the book table. She blinked, then burst into a glowing smile of recognition.

"David Carlson. Of all people! How are you?" She dropped the unsigned book on the table.

"Please, Miss Harrison...my book?" The customer tapped the book a little impatiently.

"Certainly, I'm sorry. Please wait, David," she implored. He nodded as Karen hurriedly scribbled a note to her fan. While she wrote, David's eyes drank in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst sucks up discovered water. He was delighted to see her again.

He had tried to put her out of his mind, these college years, while finishing his schooling. Most of the time he had succeeded. He was scheduled to graduate in three weeks, then he was scheduled for pilot training. He had no one else in his life at the moment. None of the girls he'd met stood up to his silent comparison of them to Michelle.

Oh, he had dated and experimented, along with the rest of his classmates. Several girls had tried to hold his attention, but none of them had ever come close to his memories and vision of Michelle. And here she was again. He knew he had to talk to her. He couldn't just walk away from her after a quick conversation in this store.

"Can you get away for a cup of coffee?" he asked, when she was through signing. "Could we talk?"

"I'd love to," she said, turning up the 'Be Back Soon' sign. "My hand is about to fall off."

"There's a coffee shop next door."

"That sounds fine. Let's go." Karen was amazed at how he had grown in the last three and a half, almost four, years. He towered over her now, and cut quite a figure in his uniform. She remembered how he used to follow her around, willing to do anything she asked. She doubted that he followed anyone around now. The girls probably did the following.

"Why the name, Karen Harrison?" he asked as they walked next door. "I'd have never known it was you."

"Oh, I'm writing under a pen name. Publishing companies sometimes insist on that for your first book or two. Maybe someday I'll be famous enough to write under my own name."

She laughed as they walked into the coffee shop. David ordered espresso for them, then asked casually, "How's Eric? Is he still teaching?"

The look on Karen's face instantly told him something was wrong. "No, he's not." She hesitated, then continued quietly, "He was killed right after your parents moved to Ellsworth Air Base."

She stopped, taking a deep breath.

"Oh, Michelle, I'm so sorry." He reached out spontaneously and covered her hand. "I didn't know."

She turned her hand and grasped his. "I know, David. You couldn't have known. We were in a dreadful motorcycle accident. He didn't make it. You remember the concrete pylon in the the "L" Street Bridge Intersection, in South Omaha?"

David nodded

She continued haltingly, determined to get through the story, "We got broadsided by a drunk. Eric was thrown into the pylon. He hit his head. You know how he hated helmets."

David nodded again, remembering Eric's refusal to wear the hated headgear. Michelle continued. "He had a skull fracture and a broken neck. He died before they could get him to a hospital."

She gripped his hand tightly, and put her other hand over her eyes, unable to go on.

"Michelle, don't. I don't need to hear the story. I'm sure it's still awful for you." David tried to comfort her and absorb the loss of his friend at the same time.

She looked up, tears glistening, "Actually, I'm pretty good most of the time. But telling the story still gets to me."

"Were you hurt?" he asked, moving his chair closer to her, taking both her hands in his, his eyes searching hers for answers.

"Yes. I hit the street and slid. Luckily my head didn't hit the pavement as bad and I didn't hit anything solid, like Eric. I ended up with a concussion, a broken leg, and a cracked pelvis."

"Michelle, you're lucky to still be alive," he said fervently.

"I didn't think so at the time. When I woke up, I was in body and leg casts and Eric was gone. As far as I was concerned, my life was over. I wished desperately that I had died with him."

"Well I'm glad you didn't. And Eric wouldn't have wanted that either." His voice shook with the intensity of his emotion. So much so that she smiled at his explosiveness. Encouraged by the smile, he continued, "But how did you get here?"

"In a nutshell, I went to my sister's to recuperate. I started writing seriously in between therapy sessions. I got connected with a great agent, who sold my writing to the right people. And here I am, with a big hit, finally." She became aware that they were still holding hands. People were beginning to stare. She gently released her grip and stood up, brushing away the stray tears.

"And I have to get back. My public awaits," she said with a flourish and a smile. He dropped two bills on the table for the coffee. She noticed that he still carried the money clip she and Eric had given him years earlier. "I'm surprised you're still carrying that."

He smiled and flipped the clip over in his hand. "It reminds me of the good times. And it keeps track of my money, what little I have."

"Yes, they were good times, weren't they? And college students never have any money, do they?"

He laughed again. "Not much. But I'll have my commission in a few weeks. Lieutenants make much more than college students. Especially pilots."

"Goodness. I'm not sure I'm ready for you to be 'all grown up', David." She looked up again into those blue, blue eyes.

"Well, ready or not, I am." He smiled down at her.

Surprisingly, her heart did a little hop-skip. He certainly had turned into a very handsome young man, and more charming than she remembered from years past, certainly more self-confident.

He walked out with her, back to the bookstore, At the door he touched her arm. "Well, at least let me take you to dinner tonight, if you're in town by yourself. There's no reason for you to sit all alone in a hotel room."

She looked up at him, surprised. Sensing her hesitancy, he hurried to reassure her. "I'm not a kid anymore, Michelle," he said, trying to sound extremely adult. "I'm going to graduate in three weeks and go off to pilot training. I'll probably end up flying in Vietnam. If I can do that, I can surely take you to dinner."

"You're absolutely right," she agreed, surprised at the feelings bubbling inside. A dinner invitation sounded wonderful about now. "I'm just not used to this new, mature you, David. But I'd love to go to dinner. Hotel rooms are very lonely when you're the only one there. Pick me up at the store after it closes, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll be there."

She waved, disappearing into the bookstore.

David raced to his apartment to change. Once home, he searched his closet for decent civilian clothes, something that didn't scream college student and found nothing. His Air Force uniform was his only dress outfit. That wouldn't do at all. He fussed so much, his roommate felt the need to comment

"O-o-oh, look at the stud," crowed Jack. "What's gotten into you, ol' buddy? Or rather, who you gettin' into? I've never seen you so fussy. Who is she?"

"None of your business, old buddy," David shot back, while he brushed a speck of lint off his almost-dress pants. He straightened his shirt collar and examined his one decent tennis sweater in the mirror. "I'm taking a lady to dinner. But, you wouldn't understand that."

Jack laughed. "I understand all right. I understand you're prancin' like a dog penned up next to a bitch in heat. Like I said, who is she? Do I know this 'lady'?"

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Morrick, you don't! She's a friend of the family, in town on business. She's alone, so I'm taking her to dinner."

"Oh, sure! All I gotta say is, I'd never volunteer to take a 'friend of the family' to dinner, on my own money," Jack said, eyeing David warily.

"You never had a family friend like Michelle," David said. "In fact, Jack, you're lucky you ever had any friends at all," he finished, tossing a pillow at his sarcastic roommate.

Jack laughed again and tossed the pillow back, on the way out. "Well, just holler if you decide you need any help with this 'family friend'. I'm very friendly."

He dodged the final pillow toss. The pillow bounced against the closing door. David glanced at his watch, kicked the pillow out of the way, and headed back to the car, determined not to be late for this very important date. Good as his word, he stood outside the bookstore, in front of his waiting car, when Michelle walked out. "Hi there, stranger," he said.

He tried hard not to over-react when she smiled that amazing smile, the one he'd fallen for the first time he'd seen her. He hoped he didn't look too much like a lovesick puppy. Nonchalance was not part of the officer's training program.

"Hello again," she returned, struck by the uncommon good looks and easy grace David now seemed to possess. She could feel his gaze taking her in from head to toe, and she enjoyed the sensation. It felt good to be "appraised" positively by such a striking young man. "Why don't you take me back to the hotel so I can change. I'm sick of these clothes. I need to get as comfortable as you look."

"Sure," he said. "Let's go."

The drive zipped by. They chatted about book sales and customers until they pulled up in front of the hotel. He parked the car, then deliberately got out to accompany her in. He decided he wasn't going to waste a minute of time he had with her. He reach out for her hand. Michelle hesitated just a fraction of a second, then slipped her hand into his. He exhaled sharply. A big grin crinkled the corners of his mouth. "Shall we go in?"

Michelle nodded. They walked, hand in hand across the lobby to the elevators. Out of the corner of her eye, Michelle caught the surprised look on the concierge's face. She allowed herself the tiniest of smiles. "Who cares?" He was her friend and he was twenty-two. It was nobody else's business who accompanied her to her room. It felt good to have him here. And she hadn't felt really good in a long, long time.

Once in her room, they continued to make small talk as she rummaged through her bags, searching for just the right outfit.

"How's this?" she asked, holding up a black angora sweater, studded beautifully with pearls.

"And these?" She draped slim black velvet slacks over her arm. "It's still cool up here after the sun goes down, right?"

"They'll be fine," he said, imagining the feel of that sweater against his fingertips. "You'd look good in a gunny sack. And yes, it does get chilly."

She laughed and disappeared to change. David sat listening to the sounds of her changing, his mind tumbling with confusing, conflicting thoughts. He was truly sorry that Eric had been killed. Eric had been his friend. And he knew that Michelle had loved Eric deeply. He had never wished any harm to come to Eric.

But the terrible accident had set Michelle free, free to love again. And David wanted her to love him. He had loved her since the first day he had seen her. And this, he realized, was the only chance he might ever get to perhaps convince her to love him. Fate had pulled them together again, here and now.

He'd resolved that he had to seize the moment, when he invited her to dinner. He had to make sure that she saw him with new eyes tonight. He had to make her understand that he was grown, fully capable of desiring and deserving her love. Eric would have understood. David smiled. Eric had always known how much David cared for Michelle. He had never been threatened by it. He would agree with the effort, David was sure.

"Well, I think I'm ready to go," she announced, stepping back into the main room of her suite. "Will this do?" she asked, pirouetting in front of him.

He whistled appreciatively and restrained himself, holding back the urge to wrap his arms around her. This wasn't the time or the place. "Like I said, you'd look good in a gunny sack. I know just the place, elegant but casual, just like you look."

She laughed again. "I think I like casually elegant. It has a nice ring to it." She was aware that she had laughed more in the last few hours than she had in the last month. David had a remarkable effect on her mood. "Let's go," she said, excitement building in her voice. "I'm ready for something besides hotel food."

Dinner was lovely. David had picked out a quiet, not too dressy restaurant that served excellent food. Sipping the wine he had picked out, she had to agree that he had very good taste in wines. He'd learned a lot in his travels with his parents and his college years. They talked and talked about everything and nothing. She realized she didn't want to take her eyes off his face. She studied his jaw line, watching every muscle tense and relax as he talked about things important to him. He'd grown up into a remarkable young man. Eric would be proud of him. Eric had always had a special place in his heart for David.

And she had to admit, so had she. He had always been able to make her laugh. She found herself noticing more and more of him, studying the body lines under his sweater, finding herself attracted to him in a very physical way.

Tiny fantasies about this handsome young man at her table started playing in the corners of her mind, sending an almost forgotten tingling sneaking through her body. She was glad the restaurant was dark enough that he could not see the color rising in her face. Obviously, he had an affect on her that no one else had created in a long time. She tossed her head, shaking off the sensations that were coming, unbidden. She took another drink of wine. This was turning into a most interesting evening.

As they languished over dessert, she sipped her wine. "I suppose we should leave. They're acting like they want our table."

He stared intently at his wine glass. "Have you ever seen Pikes Peak in the moonlight?" he asked, very casually, carefully not looking at her as he spoke. "How would you like to take a late night tour of the countryside for a better view?"

Michelle considered the question equally carefully. The war going on in her mind took on epic proportions. This invitation was certainly far more than just a car ride. Just as quickly, her head surrendered and her heart, or there abouts, won, at least this battle. She took a final sip of wine, looked at him across the top of the glass and said very clearly, "I think I'd like that very much. Shall we go?"

She caught and held David's gaze much too long. Her look seared its way into his soul. His heart began to pound. He could feel the throb in his temples and all through his body. It occurred to him that if they didn't leave immediately, he would reach for her across the table. She looked so beautiful sitting there, waiting for his response. Her gaze intense, yet so vulnerable. He knew that she was probably reacting to memories and the wine as much as to him, but he didn't care. He wanted her. Any way he could have her, he wanted her. He would take her away, as far as she would go.

"Let's," he said quietly, standing up and reaching for her chair. "It's a beautiful night."

* * *

The silvery moon peered from behind the mountain as they drove. She had taken his hand and followed him, wordlessly, to the car. She'd slid in, close to him, as though that's where she'd always belonged, He drove carefully, one hand on the steering wheel, the other draped casually around her shoulder.

She could feel the tension in his hand. She moved to keep her shoulder under his palm, for now. "You're right David, it is beautiful up here. Where are we headed?"

David kept his eyes on the road. She didn't sound worried, just curious.

"Someplace special," he said. "Dad's stationed here now, at Peterson. They didn't stay long at Ellsworth. Mom and Dad have a cabin here in the hills. It's not far. Nobody's there this weekend, not 'til after graduation. I thought it might be a little more private than one of the clubs in town. We can talk without being disturbed by nosy waiters."

"My, he has grown up." She ran her fingers gently along the side of his cheek and smiled to see him shiver. "I'm sure it will be fine." She again felt a warm stirring within her, a stirring that had been long absent. The soft glow of the effects of the wine destroyed the last remnants of Michelle's better judgment. She decided right then to go with this evening, what ever it brought. She felt good next to David. Right here and right now was all that mattered.

David pulled into the cabin driveway. The entire area was dark, but the full moon lit up the walk. Silvery shadows draped over the path. He let her out of the car and wrapped his arm tightly around her "I don't want you to fall."

She slipped her arm around his waist as well, holding him, feeling his back muscles harden under her touch, as they picked their way to the door. "I won't fall while you're here, you'll catch me."

He swallowed hard, gritting his teeth to stay focused on the task at hand, of getting them both into the cabin. He unlocked the door and flipped on one of the small lights. It cast a romantic glow over the living area.

"What a beautiful place," Michelle exclaimed.

It was really just one big room, an A-frame with a huge lower level. A gently curving, wide staircase led up to an elevated sleeping loft. Kitchen appliances were tucked under one eave. A bathroom and storage were hidden in the back corners and a big fireplace had been especially built into another corner.

Comfy couches and a huge, white fake fur rug stretched out in front of the fireplace. A big console stereo resided under another portion of the eve. Assorted ski equipment, camping gear and miscellaneous equipment sat in odd nooks and crannies, indicating that the cabin did, indeed, receive lots of visitors.

"I'll get a fire started," he said. "You see what's in the fridge."

"Won't a fire be a lot of trouble?"

"Not Dad's way. He had a gas log installed, with a big propane tank outside. He didn't want to have to cut wood unless he wanted to."

"Leave it to John to be sensible." Michelle peered into the fridge. "Do you drink beer, David? Do we want to mix wine and beer? There are a couple of cans here."

"Sure, why not? Let's live dangerously. There's a beer opener in the drawer there," he said pointing to the small cabinet. Michelle found it, opened the cans and took a sip out of one of them.

"Does the stereo work?" she asked, handing him a can.

"You bet," He took a long drink. "But the records are mostly Mom and Dad's. Just slide the top open."

Michelle sorted through the records and put on a stack of carefully-made selections. "Do junior officers learn how to do more than the boo-ga-loo these days?" she asked, setting the can down, as the strains of Johnny Mathis' Twilight Time drifted from the speakers.

"Yes ma'am," he said, his voice husky and low. He crossed the floor to her, leaving his drink setting on the fireplace mantle. "Every officer has to pass ballroom dancing. You never know when you might need to dance," he said, wrapping both arms around her waist.

"I don't remember this being a ballroom position," she teased, reaching up, slipping both arms around his neck.

"It's special," he murmured bending his head down to hers. "Reserved for rooms like this one."

"I like it," she replied. They swayed to the music, coming closer and closer together with every phrase of the song. The sensual rhythm of the love song enveloped Michelle, leading her on. David's hands set her flesh tingling. They gently drifted lower, to the small of her back. Memories of the past faded. She acknowledged David's effect on her. She wanted more of him, much more.

David's gut ached with desire as their bodies touched. She seemed to be teasing him, leaning forward, then pulling back, always in step with the music, not really suggestive, yet he knew she could feel him getting more and more aroused.

"Don't tease, Michelle," he said, finally, his hands pressed against the curve of her hips, pulling her in tightly, his face nearly buried in her hair. He knew she could feel his heart pounding. He was swollen hard against her.

"I'm not teasing, David," she whispered, turning her face up to him. Her delicate tongue traced the top of his ear, then down its side. She let her tongue just touch his ear. She paused slightly, then blew ever so gently on the lobe.

His arms tightened in response and she allowed her body to lean fully into him, so he could feel the swelling of her breasts beneath her sweater, feel the pounding of her own heart. He pressed back against her, his body screaming for more. The song stopped, freezing the moment. She pressed her head to his chest. He held her for what seemed to be an eternity, hearts pounding together, matching breath for breath. The record changer clicked, the old vinyl platter dropped down, the needle arm swung and the words of the next song filled his brain. "If you let me love you, it's for sure I'm gonna love you, All the Way..."

Michelle rolled her head slightly to allow him to kiss her. His lips touched hers tentatively, asking permission with their gentle touch. Her tongue gave her answer. It slid deliberately between his parted lips, finding his, caressing it and teasing him, as a tiny purr escaped her throat.

He let out a groan and swept her off her feet, in one quick motion. Down, down to the great white rug on the floor in front of the fire. There was no holding him back. He had wanted her for too long. His dress pants were no match for his urgency. Her black velvet trousers slid off quickly.

Four years of imagination and desire erased all his normal self-control. He slid quickly between her legs. He kissed her hungrily. Her arms encircled his neck. She returned the kiss eagerly, her body trembling, her thighs separating invitingly. She gasped when he plunged into her, lifting her hips off the floor with his force. He heard her gasp but he couldn't stop. He thrust again and again, moaning as he gave in to the feelings he had fought to ignore for so long.

Michelle fought for breath, her body responding in kind. She had forgotten how powerful a young man could be. Overwhelmed with the intensity of his emotion, she moved with him to a long-forgotten plateau of pleasure.

His hands ran under her sweater as he continued to thrust. The sweater yielded easily to bare skin underneath. She arched her body, raising her now uncovered breasts to him, to be caressed. Another time he would have obliged gently, but not now. His urgency still drove him on. His mouth closed on an already erect nipple. He suckled hard, pulling, demanding, as his hands insisted she respond.

His sweater and shirt were no match for Michelle's response. In no time, they were no longer between them. She wanted to feel him against her totally. Her fingers dug into his back. She strained to meet him. Her stomach began to contract, heaving in time with him. She twisted and pulsed, like the belly dancers of old, with smooth rolling motions, matching his still powerful pulses. David had seen those dancers. Now he understood what those moves were for. Her rhythmic pulses drove him harder and harder. They writhed on the cabin floor as they finally exploded with one another in an ecstasy of passion.

His tongue traced the curve of her breast as they lay there, gasping for breath, tight in one another's arms. He stayed on top, half-afraid she would disappear if he moved.

"Mmmm..."

The sound drifted into his ear.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said, still pressing her tightly to the floor, kissing her breast, gently, trying to make up for any roughness. "I couldn't stand it. I've wanted you for so long."

He looked into her eyes, searching for her reaction to his pronouncement.

"You were wonderful. And you talk too much," she murmured, kissing his chin. She traced her tongue up to his lower lip. "Don't you have something better to do with those lips?"

"Oh yeah," he said breathlessly. He began to cover her face with kisses; her eyelids, then her nose, then her cheeks, then down her cheekbone to her ear.

"That's nice," she purred. "Keep it up."

He nuzzled her neck beneath her ear.

She began to rock her hips gently from side to side underneath him. Her movement coaxed him to love again. She could feel the changes inside her.

"You are a cat," he said, hearing her purr out loud.

"No. Cats scratch, and these aren't claws," She ran her fingers down his back, then over and around his hips, to that special, sensitive spot men have just beneath their "cheeks." Stroking him, she raised her hips slightly, anticipating his reaction.

Startled, he drove down into her again. No one had ever awakened that sensitive spot to him before.

"You're all ready to go again, aren't you?" Her sensual laugh sent shivers down his exposed spine.

"We could be here all night, if you keep that up," he said huskily as he started to release the fury she had again awakened.

"Wonderful," was her reply, lost in their motions.

His fury spent sooner this time. They lay locked in an embrace in front of the glowing fire, deep in the pile of the luxurious rug; both unwilling to move, unwilling to break the moment.

She finally slept. David picked her up and carried her to the loft. She didn't even stir when he lay her down, gently, on her side. He slid in beside her, curling around her, fitting his chest to her back, with one arm around her waist, covering them both with the big woolen blanket on the bed. He wanted to awaken with her, to keep her near.

* * *

She awoke, with a start, to sunshine streaming in the loft window. The arm around her waist startled her. David's whisper curled over her shoulder. "It's all right Michelle. We're just in the loft bed. I thought you might sleep better here."

It wasn't a dream. She shivered, snuggling tight against him. The memories of last night tumbled into her consciousness. She was here, with David, feeling emotions she hadn't felt since Eric was killed. How could she? She was here to sort out her feelings about Joe. How could she feel such hunger for David?. She shook her head. All she knew was that she wanted to be here; wanted with every fiber in her being to continue what they had started. She rolled over, sliding her body tight against him. Her fingertips traced a sensuous pattern from his chest to around his neck. Her fingers slid into the golden curls at the nape of his neck. "Good morning." A languid smile played across her face and she batted a sleepy eyelid. "How are you this morning?"

He grinned and kissed her on the nose. He looked closely to see if any doubts hovered in her look. "I'm fine. How about you?"

Her smile widened, easing his mind. "Better than I've been in a long time," she said truthfully. "When do we have to be out of here?"

"We don't," he replied. "This is Saturday. Nobody plans to come up here for another three weeks. It's all ours. We could just stay right here in bed 'til Monday."

That thought pleased him very much. He moved as if to slide atop her again. but she held him back. He looked at her questioningly.

"You'd like that wouldn't you," she purred, running her hands down his chest.

"I'd love it," he exclaimed.

Michelle continued to stroke his chest, pushing gently. He yielded to her push and rolled over completely on his back, excited by her touch. He'd never had his feelings aroused in so many different ways. He shivered in anticipation, waiting for her next surprise.

Michelle began to kiss his chest gently along the edges of the tight muscles leading to his flat nipples. Her fingertips traced muscle edges lower and lower, making him ache with desire to the very center of his being. She continued to awaken his feelings, as she traced her fingernail gently along the edge of his navel.

"Oh-h-h-!" He moaned, convulsing toward her touch. Fire bolts of pleasure raced down the nerves in his abdomen, awakening his desire immediately.

She continued her slow move down his taut body, her lips following the path marked out by her nails. Her hands slid gently down the front of his muscular legs. Her tongue found its own path. The muscles were as taut as violin strings. He was trying to hold still for her, to let her do whatever she wished to please herself and him, but his self-control was rapidly disappearing.

"I can't stand to wait, Michelle." He reached for her, wrapping his fingers in her chestnut mane.

"Silly man," she purred, shaking her head, loosening his grip. "Of course, you can."

With that, she slipped one leg across his body, raised up on her knees and lowered herself until she just met his erect desire. His body screamed for her as she hesitated ever so slightly, enticing him with her eyes, forcing him to wait.

"Good morning," she said again, rocking down hard onto him. He slipped into her easily, as though they had been lovers for years. He gasped and arched himself while she rocked, bringing both of them to a marvelous peak of early morning ecstasy. He wanted to reach to caress the beautiful breasts before him but he couldn't. Her moves were controlling him, taking him farther and farther. His hands could only grip the bed. He pushed up and up, into that moist sheath surrounding him, throbbing, holding him, awakening sensations he'd never before experienced.

She tossed that wild mane of hair as she gave one final shove, arching her back to carry her force to him. He groaned and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her down, rolling over with her, grinding deep into her, emptying his passion. Finally exhausted, he stretched out beside her, arm draped possessively around her waist. "So much for your morning workout," she whispered, gasping for breath.

He laughed and kissed her. He held her close, wishing the moment would never end. What great sex! Could he turn lust into love? He raised up on one elbow, searching her face for a clue. Did she love him the way he loved her? Of course not. She had not loved him for four years, as he had her.

She was still recovering from her loss of Eric. She was vulnerable and could be hurt again. David wished fiercely he could keep her here in the mountains, away from everything else, to keep her just for himself. He would protect her at all costs. A very practical, protective thought elbowed its way into his consciousness.

"You know, maybe we should be a little more...careful," he finished lamely, embarrassed at even having approached the subject.

She cupped his face in her hands, pulling him close for a kiss. "Unfortunately, we don't have to worry. I told you I was badly hurt during the wreck. With all the broken bones, operations, and internal scarring, my doctors say I can never have children. It's just me from now on."

"Don't worry," he said sharply. "You're all any man would ever want! You're more than enough for me."

He kissed her again, hard, as if to prove his point by the force of his kiss. His intensity jolted Michelle into the realization that this was no passing flirtation, no single romantic interlude, on David's part. He loved her deeply, more than she had ever imagined.

And she realized, just as suddenly, she could really love him, without even trying. He made her feel alive, truly alive-- like she had with Eric. He could make her smile, make her laugh and make her feel safe against the world.

She'd come to Colorado to sort out her feelings about Joe, and walked right into another love. The idea astounded her. She'd never considered herself a swinger, or engaged in the "one-night stands" that were so popular these days, but here they were, and here she was, seriously considering love, after one night in the sack with this admittedly virile young man, who was obviously crazy about her. But this could never work. Their ages were too different and their lives were headed separate ways.

A young lieutenant in the Air Force couldn't have an "older woman" for a wife, especially not a novelist. And a war protestor's widow to boot. It wouldn't fit the Air Force requirements for the proper family team. How could they possibly be in love?

But for now, she pushed that out of her mind. Whatever was happening, she wanted it. She wanted to be right here, with David--snuggled next to him, feeling his strong body pressed close to hers, sharing wonderful sensations. If this was going to be their weekend, it was going to be one to remember.

She looked up at him, grinning. "I'm starved," she said changing the subject, "let's see if we have anything to eat."

* * *

"Well," exclaimed Michelle, emerging from the fridge, "we can breakfast on cheese and sardines."

She straightened, holding a package of cheese spread in one hand and a can of sardines in the other. David laughed at the sight. His tee shirt dropped nearly to her knees. He had found that and a pair of gym sweats in his foot locker in the loft. He had given her the shirt and donned the sweats himself. They made quite a sight, rummaging in the tiny kitchen area, looking for leftovers that might still be edible.

"Ugh!" He grimaced. "I found some crackers and a jar of peanut butter. How's that?"

"Well, it looks like we're going to need some groceries. We're going to have to go back into town, anyway," she said firmly.

"No." David said, crossing the floor in three giant steps, swooping her into his arms. "I don't want to go anywhere. I'll eat peanut butter!"

Setting down her food offerings, Michelle took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. "Maybe you can just disappear for a weekend, dearest, but I can't. My agent will be waiting for my plane this afternoon. If I don't walk off that plane on schedule, he'll call the hotel to see why not. If they tell him my bed wasn't slept in and they don't know where I am, his next call will be to the police in Colorado Springs, I promise you."

She looked at him intently. She could see he wasn't convinced. "I don't want a patrol car visit to spoil this weekend, do you?"

He grudgingly shook his head.

"Okay, then we have to go back into town for a little while. Once I make a couple of calls and check out of the hotel, we can come back, if you're sure it's all right. Besides, I really don't want to spend the entire weekend in your tee shirt," she said, laughing. "You have clothes here. I don't."

He pressed her close. He didn't want to waste the time driving back and forth, but she was obviously right. "You promise we'll come back?"

She looked deep into his eyes. "I promise." She placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled him down for a gentle kiss. "If that's what you want, we'll come back."

He kissed her hard. "Yes, that's what I want. Let's go quick and get back. I don't want to waste any of the time we have left."

"It won't take me a minute to change." Michelle darted back to the loft, picking up clothes as she went, with David at her heels.

The trip back to town flew by. David drove like a demon, afraid that she would reconsider in the cold light of day. He didn't want her to think too much. He knew she was a very practical thinker. He had to convince her that they were right for each other, that they should be together, against all logic, against all social convention. He could do that better if they were alone. He had very little time.

The concierge saw them enter the lobby. He raised an eyebrow, then turned his head. It was not his business to judge what well-known guests did while holding rooms at the Broadmoor. He was already aware that Miss Harrison's bed had not been slept in. He was relieved to see her. She was obviously fine.

Once in her room, they started stuffing her things back into her suitcases. "I'll call the office while you finish my packing," Michelle said. "The secretary should be there. I've got to let them know I'm not coming home today."

David nodded and continued to stuff bags. Michelle dialed the phone. Calling Joe at home wouldn't be a good idea. No sense getting into a discussion about not coming home. The phone rang, then rang again

"Hello, Jill? Yes it's me. Could you get a message to Joe for me? No, no, nothing's wrong. But I'm not going to be back tonight. No, I've met some old Air Force friends here in Colorado Springs and I'm going to stay with them for a couple of days. I'll call when I'm ready to come back. I've decided I need a few days off... Thanks, Jill, you're a dear!"

David looked at her in admiration. "You did that really well," he said.

"Did what?" She looked at him wide-eyed, a picture of innocence. "Everything I said was the truth, wasn't it?"

"You want this weekend too, don't you?" he said, more of a statement than a question. His arms enfolded her. They shared a deep, lingering kiss. Michelle's heart pounded in her chest. His kisses seared into her soul.

"Let's go," she replied, evading a direct answer. "We need to stop at the grocery store. I don't want to eat sardines and peanut butter all weekend."

They waited only long enough for Michelle to call to cancel her plane flight and to check out. David knew the Springs well. They quickly pulled up in front of a market. He could tell that Michelle was picking out food for only two nights. He resolved to make the most he possibly could of the next two nights.

The rest of Saturday seemed to fly by. They walked through the beautiful spring woods, watching the squirrels, enjoying one another's company. David confided his dreams of becoming an aviator ace to her, talking at length about how much he wanted to fly, to serve his country, to do something worth doing with his education and talent.

She told him about writing, about the rigors of being on tour for a book, staying to the business side of her life as much as possible. She encouraged him to talk and he did. He wanted her to know everything about him that he could tell her in one day.

The sun slipped beautifully behind the craggy mountain, and they headed into the cabin for the evening. David intended that she enjoy this weekend like no other weekend she had ever known. He was competing with all the memories she had of Eric and he intended to beat them. He had to, if he had a chance to convince her to be part of his present and their future.

He picked out the music this time. Unchained Melody drifted out of the speakers. He took her in his arms, saying, "Would you like to dance again? There are still things I can show you."

She laughed and melted again into his arms. This was going to be another wonderful night.