Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

There, In The Doorway, Stood Chad.

He smiled across the room at his stunned ex-wife and said, “May I come inside out of the rain?” How like him to intrude back into her life this way! Jo couldn’t form a single word; she was in shock.

He smiled as a man does whose life is beyond his control. “I’ve taken a leave of absence and moved up here.”

In stark horror, Jo uttered a guttural, “No!”

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll leave these wet things down here tonight. Are we roomies?”

“No!” she gasped. But Chad clearly had other ideas…

Dear Reader,

Go no further! I want you to read all about what’s in store for you this month at Silhouette Desire. First, there’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the triumphant return of Joan Hohl’s BIG BAD WOLFE series! MAN OF THE MONTH Cameron Wolfe “stars” in the absolutely wonderful Wolfe Wedding. This book, Joan’s twenty-fifth Silhouette title, is a keeper. So if you plan on giving it to someone to read I suggest you get one for yourself and one for a friend-it’s that good!

In addition, it’s always exciting for me to present a unique new miniseries, and SONS AND LOVERS is just such a series. Lucas, Ridge and Reese are all brothers with a secret past. and a romantic future. The series begins with Lucas: The Loner by Cindy Gerard, and continues in February with Reese: The Untamed by Susan Connell and in March with Ridge: The Avenger by Leanne Banks. Don’t miss them!

If you like humor, don’t miss Peachy’s Proposal, the next book in Carole Buck’s charming, fun-filled WEDDING BELLES series, or My House or Yours? the latest from Lass Small.

If ranches are a place you’d like to visit, you must check out Barbara McMahon’s Cowboy’s Bride. And this month is completed with a dramatic, sensuous love story from Metsy Hingle. The story is called Surrender, and I think you’ll surrender to the talents of this wonderful new writer.

Sincerely,

Lucia Macro

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

My House Or Yours?
Lass Small

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LASS SMALL

finds living on this planet at this time a fascinating experience. People are amazing. She thinks that to be a teller of tales of people, places and things is absolutely marvelous. This is Lass’s 40th book for Silhouette!

To my new editor, Marcia Book Adirim, a.k.a. “Mab.”

One

That late-January day, the Dallas-Fort Worth airport was jammed. The weather there was TEXAS weather and marvelous, as usual. But north of TEXAS just about all the airports clear across most of the United States were closed because of The Storm.

In the complex, where one pack of delayed passengers stood, there was the under-sound of people moving and talking and complaining. It was like a muted roar. Here and there a single voice surfaced and like a fish leaping from turbulent waters can be seen, the sound of restless people could be heard.

The question was asked by one of the ski people, “Did you hear anything about Colorado?”

Across heads, the replying voice was sour with the reply. “Snowed under.”

Another voice then inquired, “Well, what do you expect this time of year?”

There’s always someone logical who is exceptionally distasteful to be around at a time like that.

From a relentless optimist, there was the comment, “When you get to the slopes, there’ll be just that much more snow!”

A good attitude.

Then a male voice called over the packed heads, “How’s Chicago? I can’t see the board from here.”

A female who was closer to the board complained crossly, “Socked in.”

Some clown commented in surprise, “They ski in Chicago?”

And from farther back in the crowd, a voice said crossly, “I didn’t take time off work in order to sleep on a chair or on the floor in an airport.”

Since Jo Morris was a seasoned air traveler, she was not perturbed. With her brown eyes, she was a cool, collected, twenty-eight-year-old. She was a flexible woman who could handle any unexpected situation. Well, most.

She was a program problem-solver for one of the awesome computer greats. She really knew computers. She’d been on the first wave at fourteen with an Apple II Plus.

“Attention, please.” The voice was wonderfully male. It was the Do Not Fear. I Am In Control-type voice. He was at one of the flight counters. He had all their attentions.

He was a marvelous-looking, well-made man in a perfect uniform who was asking the muttering crowd to listen to him. He’d had all the female attention right away.

No one in the trapped pack believed there was any solution. They were mostly restless and disappointed, and some were sulky, but they all quieted down.

It was unarguable that the airport had no control over the weather that was lousing up other airports someplace else. Or even if by some miracle bad weather sneaked into TEXAS, who could control weather? So why would anyone be angry with the airport personnel?

The person addressing them was a captain of one of the stranded planes. He stood on a movable step-up and scanned the crowd. As always happened when men scanned crowds, and Jo was in the crowd, the man’s eyes landed on her. He smiled in the way men smile at a woman who interests them.

And it was mostly to Jo that he said, “I have some hotel rooms available. Because of the locations in the hotels, they are not choice rooms, but you can shower and rest. It would be better if you could double up.” He smiled at Jo. “It would be rude to use a double room as a single. Who’s double? Raise your hands.”

A man’s voice next to Jo said, “We are.”

While she was recovering from the sound of him, a slip of paper was passed from the pilot to the hand that reached past Jo’s shoulder.

In the crush, a body pressed slightly against Jo’s side. And her own body reacted strongly. That was weird. She hadn’t reacted to any touches since”Well, Jo,” a nicely rumbling voice said in her ear. “Want to share. again?”

All the bedlam around faded away as she turned like a particle in a slowly melting glacier. She didn’t have to turn far, but it took a long time and her lips parted during the same millennium.

Since a millennium takes a while to pass, she had the time to notice, in all that while, no one around aged. Interesting. They were all locked in by her shock, but they appeared unaware of what had happened.

Eventually her slight, slow turn did take her stare to the speaker at her shoulder. And it was, indeed, he. Her ex-husband.

He looked the same. His brown hair was thick. His brown eyes were lazy and amused. He was thirty-eight and old enough not to accost an ex-wife.

She spoke. She said, “Chad.” With him, she’d always been a similarly brilliant conversationalist. She hadn’t actually needed to talk, but her inability to communicate was why she had her master’s degree. It was one of the reasons.

He smiled at her as if they’d amicably parted just last week. “So you do remember.”

“How amazing to run into you here.” Not having seen him in so long, she could evaluate him more critically.

He looked fantastic. No wonder all the female students in his seminars stared and shifted in their chairs. Just seeing him, her own body was being crass. At twenty-eight, she was old enough to have better control.

He lifted the paper slip to call her attention to it. “I have a room. You’re my first choice. Want to share?”

How could her body carry on that way? Did it expect—Of course not. Then why—Her mouth said, “Why, how amazing to run into you in an airport!” And she was immediately aware she’d already said something similar. In turn, he would immediately know he’d boggled her.

He always had.

Females acted so silly around Chad Wilkins that he’d accepted it as the normal behavior pattern in women. He simply assumed all women, at all times, acted the way she did around him. He used her conduct as a measuring stick for women. He had never assimilated his lure and he wasn’t at all egotistical about himself.

He’d never been very bright about women.

In the crush, the stranded pilot had come through the mob, and he touched Jo’s shoulder. “Are you alone? There’s one vacant room left. It’s mine.” His grin was just great.

Why couldn’t she just go along with the pilot? It was the perfect escape from Chad. She could make an excuse later with the pilot. But she should seize on this chance to avoid the temptation and escape Chad!

However, Chad smiled kindly at the discreetly salivating pilot and replied, “She’s with me.”

That had a familiar ring to it. And Jo remembered Chad saying that to friendly men. But then after he’d shooed off whomever, he would tilt his head down to listen to some foggy old man’s dissertation on something so obscure as to be beyond heeding.

The pilot, who wasn’t empty peanut shells, gave Chad a studying look, then returned his regard to Jo. “If it doesn’t pan out, I’m in 409.”

She looked at him in serious regret. There stood a normal man. And she heard as her mouth said, “Thank you. But don’t wait up.”

The pilot waited for more.

She again looked at him regretfully, but she slowly turned back to Chad, taking another millennium to do that simple thing.

Her ex-husband ignored the reluctant-to-give-up pilot who’d never before been turned down. Chad took hold of Jo’s elbow as if she was property. Come to think of it, he’d always been possessive.

Chad asked Jo, “Where are your things?”

“Here.” She indicated the across-her-body, shoulder-slung, light bag. “I travel light.”

He accepted that as logical and informed her with confidence, “I’ll find a cab.”

And he would. He always could. In all the time Jo had known Chad, he could solve anything. But not Jo. He had never been able to solve Jo.

As they plowed through the packed people, the divorced pair left the abandoned pilot watching after them.

Chad got the first cab that was available. Of course he would. He invited any of the waiting others who were going to that particular hotel to join them. Altogether, not counting the driver, they squeezed in six.

“This many’s illegal.” The woman driver mentioned her evaluation—to Chad. She would sort him out as their leader.

With authority, Chad gently instructed the cabdriver, “It’s an emergency.” With a pithy, deliberate pause, he added, “And we tip well.”

That was language the driver understood. Most people recognized Chad’s position as unheralded leader right away. The cabdriver was no exception. Males sometimes had trouble with the premise of Chad’s superiority, as had the pilot, but most people finally would accept the fact that Chad was the leader.

Leaders have very little spare time.

In the cab, Jo was squashed between Chad and the window. He had arranged it so that no other man was close to her. He’d been deft about it. He’d always done that. He could shift her quite discreetly from one side of him to the other depending on who was crowding her.

He was possessive.

Not anymore. They’d been divorced for almost four years. He’d allowed her to leave quite thoughtfully. He’d said, You’ll be back when you’ve had a taste of being on your own for a while. You like being married!

He’d been wrong.

It was probably the only time, in all the while she’d known Chad, that he’d ever been wrong. Well, any person was entitled to one mistake in his life.

She had been his.

Sitting forward in the cab on the edge of the back seat, with Chad pressed against her hip and the noisy shadows of other people packed in the small enclosure, Jo’s body was afire with ants of desire. How foolish of her sex to react again and so violently to Chad.

She was going to be circumspect and aloof. She was going to show Chad that she did not miss him. That she did not want to be married to him again. And that she was free.

So…he’d been good in bed. She remembered that. Her body remembered it, too. She acknowledged it. She was not really susceptible to Chad. She was not!

There were undoubtedly other men who could do sex as well as Chad Wilkins. All men had the same equipment, and it was traditionally done in various ways that were pleasurable to women. And—

He’d been really, really good at it.

But that was all. And it was only sex, after all. He had not been a companion or a friend or a helpmate.

He’d been good in bed…on the floor…against the wall. She could admit that, but otherwise he’d been gone.

There were all those meetings with students in his department, meetings with lagging students, meetings with those who were exceptional and those engrossed in projects. There were faculty meetings, the faculty senate and other occasions that were formal, which had included the wives.

Chad had never been around when she had needed him. Of course, her problem was that it had only been his companionship she had wanted. It hadn’t been as important to him. Just being together and talking, or not, hadn’t been urgent. It could be postponed. Forever.

They’d reached the hotel. She got out first, and it was familiar to wait as he settled up the fares and tips. With the tips given, the cabdriver probably quit for the day.

The January weather in Fort Worth was glorious. It was warm. The TEXAS sun was assuringly benevolent, showing the non-TEXANs that the world could indeed be perfect. The ski equipped, reluctant guests were beginning to perk up and look around for entertainment. They would have a stimulating time and probably end up swimming outside.

Among the stranded strangers, there was the couple who was meeting for the first time since their divorce. So. It was no big deal. They were as ships which pass on the ocean. They would pass with a courteous greeting and some pleasant conversation and…separate…to go their ways?

He probably had papers to read. He always had a student who needed extra help. Jo hadn’t needed anything. She’d never had any problems. So she’d needed no special attention from her husband.

Or so he had thought.

His meals had been on time…or held…or stored away. The house was always clean. His shirts were pristine and the buttons were all sewn on. His clothes came back from the cleaner on time.

She’d slept in his bed and had been available. Hungrily available. She’d sought him. His laugh had been so intimate. So pleased. His sounds were so basic.

He had been a superior lover. It was quite probable that he still was.

Jo wondered who…who all had been sharing his bed. He wouldn’t even have to ask. He’d probably have to post a list for day and time. It was a wonder he looked so well, so cared for. Who was taking care of him now? He looked so rested.

Of course, he’d been away from campus. He’d been to a seminar to read a paper. No, not a newspaper. One of his. On…what all. Some subject that was so dim and distant that few others would find it interesting. He was such a niggler. He was the type whose concentration was intense. He sorted and sought and paced as he thought.

In her ear, he said, “Let me carry that.”

She lifted her brows in question.

“Your bag.”

She replied in a dismissing manner, “It’s quite comfortable, and I’m used to it. No problem.”

He was serious and his lower lip was being obvious. “It seems crass for you to have to carry your things.”

She slid her eyes over to give him a narrow, sophisticated understanding of his wiles, but he was frowning at her bag. “When did you get so thin? Are you okay?”

“I’ve lost five pounds since our divorce almost four years ago.”

He flinched. “Don’t say the word. I’ve rejected it.”

Jo lowered her eyelids and looked at him with some snide understanding. “Just recently?”

He replied like a stubborn man who hasn’t adjusted to reality. “No. Ever since you walked out on me.”

They’d stopped at the hotel’s desk to register. He said to her, “Wait here.”

She told him firmly, “I need to pay half.”

“No.”

She replied in an adult manner, “I have a credit card for my expense account.”

“No.”

Come to think of it, he’d always been that way. His way. That’s what was wrong with him, everything had to be his way. Even when he was being darling, he wanted it his way.

Jo said with her being-patient-with-a-client voice, “I pay half or I walk.”

“You’ve become a prostitute?”

She gasped in indignation.

“You were always terrific and so body-hungry that it doesn’t surprise me at all. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering who you were savoring.”

Through her teeth she spaced the three words. “I have not!”

He frowned at her and appeared censoring. “Then I feel sorry for the men around you. What do they do?”

Somewhat prissily, she retorted, “Not all men are like you, thank goodness.”

He put on an instant lecturing facade. “Goodness has nothing—”

“Be quiet!”

He grinned from ear to ear and said, “There’s my Jo. I thought I’d lost her, you’ve been so polite.”

She’d been rude? She frowned and considered. “When haven’t I been polite?”

“I haven’t had tabs on you in much too long,” he informed her as if she hadn’t realized such a simple fact. “Do you know I dream about you? Hot dreams.” He scowled at her. “Are you living with somebody else?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’d hate for some irritated guy to come bursting into our room and act upset.”

Her “lover” would…act…upset if he found her with another man? “Is that how you would have been? If I’d had an affair, would you have been.upset?”

Mildly he replied, “I’d have ripped out his jugular vein, unkindly.”

“Is there a kind way?” She looked at him in shock.

“Not where you’re concerned.”

She was indignant. “We’re divorced!”

“I’ve missed you.”

Exasperated, she demanded, “When did you have the time to notice I was gone? How long was it before you realized I wasn’t around anymore? You ran out of dishes or shirts? What caught your attention?”

“Every damned empty day.” He looked up from the registry and added, “Every lousy, empty night.”

“It’s been almost four years.”

“It’s not yet four but it seems like twenty-five.”

“I don’t believe this.”

And he had the gall to inquire, “Why haven’t you found another husband?”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“No ring.”

Along with supercilious eyebrows, she lifted her hand. “I always remove it when I travel. Don’t you?”

He went back to filling out the hotel information. But he said, “I’ve looked around, but nobody else is you.”

His eyes were on the page he was filling out. He had marvelous eyelashes. She couldn’t believe he’d actually said the words, that, instead, she’d heard what she wanted him to say.

He finished writing and handed the page to the person at the registration desk. “Two keys.”

“Yes, sir.” And she handed him the keys.

He picked up his bags and said, “I talk to your father and he has told me you are not married.”

“Mistakenly told you? I wonder why he lied. He probably felt you would be upset.”

“I’m never upset.” Chad was firm. “I can handle most things. You being away so long has bothered me.”

“It’s taken you almost four years to notice? You probably saw me in the air terminal and thought I looked familiar. Then you’d searched your mind as to which of your classes I’d been in. And finding I wasn’t a student, you sorted me out.”

“Come back to Indy with me.” He punched the button for the elevator. Then he stood and looked at her as the elevator doors opened. He followed her inside the cage and punched the button for the sixth floor. No one else was right there, so the doors closed. They were alone in the elevator.

“Why should I go home with you? You didn’t want me. Why should you care about someone else wanting me?”

“I love you.”

That ticked her off. “You really irritate me. No wonder I left you. How could you possibly—”

She stopped speaking as the elevator came to a quiet stop. The doors slid open silently. The hall’s carpet was discreet and elegant. It was nicely insulated and therefore silent.

On the wall opposite the elevator, they saw the numbers that indicated they were to go to the left. The room was right there. That’s why it was still available. It was next to the elevator shaft.

Guests would gather by the elevator and talk. Their voices would be heard in the room. Baggage carts were rolled from the elevator. They too would be heard, even though it was a discreet hotel. So the rooms closest to the elevator were used only in necessity.

Jo got out her key card and put it into the door’s lock. She was immediately aware her action startled Chad. He had always opened the doors. She’d usurped his move.

He kept her from entering by dropping his luggage in the hall. One bag clunked heavily. And he bent and picked her up!

“What—?”

He explained casually, “We’re going to sleep together. I always carry women into hotel rooms when I intend on sleeping with them.”

She gasped indignantly. “Just how many—”

But he kissed her quite skillfully and set the maulable mass that was Josephine Morris over out of the way. He then retrieved his abandoned luggage with perfect coordination.

How had he managed to be functional after that kiss?

How vulgar he was. He had to be very easy with the act of seduction—the preliminaries and the actual act. He planned to…sleep…with her. And he always kissed the women he slept with in hotel rooms.

She inquired with casual coolness, “What’s your score total so far?”

“I’ll check it out and let you know. The figures aren’t at my fingertips this minute. I’ll have to consult my computer files.”

That sobered her considerably. Chad hadn’t missed her at all. He’d been keeping statistics on other women, all of whom he’d carried through hotel room doors and seduced on the beds there.

Jo was crushed. No wonder he’d never contacted her. He hadn’t had the time to remember her. How had he even remembered who she was at the airport? He must have caught a glimpse of her and known he’d seen her…somewhere.

Think of having to sort through a wheatfield of women to discover which one she’d been!

He’d probably had to go to the airport’s computer base to contact his home computer bank and search out which one she was.

She said, “If you’ve been traveling much, you must be exhausted.”

Chad replied leisurely, “I’m rested up. The seminar was only men and they didn’t even mention sex.”

“So you’re ravenous, and you saw me and remembered me?”

“I assumed I’d had you somewhere along the way, and therefore I was cautious until I validated who you actually are.” He watched her with his eyes halfclosed. “How many men have you driven wild since you last did that with me?”

She gasped like a virgin accused of dropping a swimsuit shoulder strap.

She moved inside her body in various ways. She was indignant. She moved her lips and she finally said, “Baloney!” And with the word, she could have just died of embarrassment. She might just as well have said, Golly! or something else equally juvenile.

She grabbed up her bag and started for the door.

He caught her arm. “Don’t be such a chicken.” His voice was so soft, so husky and sweet. His eyes were earnest; his big hand was gentle. He looked soberly into her eyes. She saw as the depths warmed and his crinkles deepened. He had the best mouth.

Since her eyes went to his mouth, he needed to show her why people have mouths, and he kissed her a completely unfair, remarkably sweet, loving kiss. He was really, really good. He really kissed her.

He did.

As he lifted his mouth with all those marvelous little sounds in that silent room, she raised weighty eyelids to look up at him. With some effort she coordinated her vocal cords as her kiss-swollen lips said, “Let’s go swim.”

He regarded her soberly for some time, then his smile started and his eyes twinkled. He replied, “Right.”

He went down to the hotel necessity shop, which sold all sorts of important things like condoms and swimsuits and candy and flowers. They didn’t miss a trick.

Jo was in the pool when Chad came out in his swim trunks. He looked like an American Greek god. He was actually Dutch and Welsh with a touch of Irish thrown in.

He dived into the pool effortlessly and his strokes were lazy and strong. He came to her and said, “Take a breath.”

She remembered that, and she vigorously backpedaled away from him. He laughed and swam, following her so easily. He was so at home in the water.

A surprising number of people don’t believe in swimming in the winter. Pools are generally closed. Yankees are unpredictable. The weather in TEXAS was so nice that it seemed like a Yankee summer day. The two paying guests played together like otters. They lifted themselves from the pool and went down the slide and they used the pool.

Underwater, he touched her here and there. He lifted her and threw her and made her laugh. Men’s muscles are just different. Their strength is awesome. He had no trouble following her in the water, turning her, lifting her. It was easy for him.

He laughed as she splashed him and wiggled and slid away. He could have held her, but if he had, he might have hurt her. He was stronger and had to be careful.

He finally captured her and took her under the water to kiss her.

In all that while, he gave her his entire attention.

How unkind of him.

It was like the time of their courtship, all those years ago, when she was new on campus and he was an assistant professor. But she became his wife. She was a woman of principles and would not go to bed with him without being married to him.

Since she had been married to one of the teaching staff, her schooling was free. She graduated with a degree in business and had taken her masters in business.

When she left him, he had asked if she didn’t want to stay on a little longer and earn her doctorate also. He hadn’t felt she’d used him. He was practical.

She hadn’t used Chad to get her education. It had been boredom that had urged her to take classes. She hadn’t gotten pregnant, although they’d used no barriers. Each month had been a disappointment, another failure, before she’d sadly accepted that she was barren.

While she had had his sexual attention, she hadn’t had his companionship. She’d been so lonely. She’d wanted his attention. He wasn’t around. He would never be around. Eventually, she had understood that and she had left.

So almost four years after their divorce, Jo played as she’d dreamed of playing with Chad all those years ago. At eighteen, at twenty, but at twenty-two the hope had dimmed. During the time she’d been working on her masters, she knew their marriage was doomed.

No miracle happened.

By then, she had faced reality. Her time with Chad would never be any different than it was then.

Looking at Chad soberly, she decided that she might just as well have one last fling with him. Their marriage was water lost over the dam. Why not enjoy the last of the trickle of her time with him? So she laughed, and flung herself into the water and allowed him to chase her.

Their time then was as she’d always thought their marriage could be.

And he took her back to their room. She was breathless from swimming, or something, and she was shy.

“How many men have you had by now?” Chad teased Jo as he dried his hair with a big towel. His eyes were confident. He asked, “Do you have notches on your bedposts?” He paused. “Add notches for these days with me.” Then his voice was smokily gruff as he told her, “Put my marks on top of the others.”

There were no notches. There had been no other man. She still hadn’t gotten over her love for Chad. She hadn’t even been tempted to try another man.

But she was ready for Chad.

She met him halfway and she loved him.

He had the newly purchased condoms and he was careful of her as he’d always been. He was gentle and kind with his ravening hunger for her. He controlled himself, but his breaths were harsh and his low moans were exquisitely thrilling. He loved her as he always had.

And it was not enough.

They had a night of love. Her hair was like driedout, raveled rope. So was his. Her body was well used. So was his.

She was limp and contented. She had forgotten the pleasure, the ecstasy, the thrill of being with him, of being part of him, of making love with him.

And he groaned, “Why did you leave me?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You were never there.”

Agonized, he protested earnestly, “I slept with you every night.”

“But the days were long and empty.”

“People live all their lives with other people and see them seldom. Why did you need to be with me all the time?”

“I loved you.”

He frowned at her. “To need constant attention like that isn’t healthy.”

“Probably not.” She looked down at the sheet as she drew it up over her. She felt isolated. Just thinking of it all chilled her. It was past. How could she still be affected by those sad, empty times?

Two

Dallas and Fort Worth are separate big cities and different from one another. Dallas is glitzy and elegant while Fort Worth keeps an iron lock on being Western. There was a time when Fort Worth had been the gathering center for shipping cattle by train. Trucks had changed that.

The building of the shared airport had been a fascinating merger for the cities. Their sprawling populations were reaching out to occupy the area between the cities, and the shared airport was the obvious solution. It had not been easy for Dallas to share it with a “lesser” neighbor who was deliberately lacking in elegance.

Necessity makes for strange bedfellows.

Just as did the meeting between Jo and Chad.

Jo would look at Chad eating breakfast across the table in their room and she was stunned that she was with him again.

What were the chances of running into someone known in an airport? Actually, it wasn’t that unusual. But an ex-husband?

Incredible.

Of course, if one was a film star or multimarried perhaps, but Jo Morris? Ridiculous.

Chad was in the shower when Jo was startled by the discreet knock on their door. A knock? Who could possibly know they were there?

In their shared room, only one bed was rumpled and askew.

But hotels no longer had house detectives who checked on morals.

She squinted at her traveling clock and it was only seven-thirty. Jo inquired as to who was there. With the reply that it was breakfast, she put on her raincoat before she opened the door.

The discreet waiter didn’t even gasp at her dishabille. He conducted himself as if every person in the hotel was barefooted and wearing a raincoat in their room. She’d obviously been in some sort of rain because her hair was a tangled mess.

He said not a word but went straight to his work. He set the small table adroitly and with some skilled flourish.

She gave him a guilty-conscience tip.

He grinned as he thanked her.

She did not make eye contact. Her glances darted around and she blushed scarlet. But she was seriousfaced and silent.

With the size of the tip, he felt he had to tidy up a bit. And he moved chairs, retrieved and plumped night-discarded pillows. Did he emphasize that chore?

Jo moved her hands and said, “Never mind.”

The waiter grinned big and friendly before he reluctantly left.

She knew full well that the waiter thought she was a loose and easy woman. She was there in one of the giveaway rooms that cost outrageously but less than the others. And she’d come from the overloaded airport with a stranger. HARLOT must be written across her forehead in purple on the red blush that suffused her entire face.

Closing the door again, Jo scowled at the torn-up bed with its plumped pillows. Two of the pillows had been taken from the floor. Just as they had some years ago. She and Chad had shared one pillow. That was a clue right there. Then too, the other bed hadn’t been touched. How obvious.

There is nothing like a guilty conscience to rattle a seemingly free woman.

She straightened. She would never see the waiter again. She would leave this place. She would go back to her life and this would be a forgotten incident.

Chad came out of the bathroom, gloriously naked, drying his hair with a rough towel. He grinned at her and said, “I’m clean. Let’s roll around so that I can smell you instead of just me.”

She looked back at him in appalled shock.

He noted she was wearing a raincoat, over nothing, and he lifted his eyebrows a trifle as he smiled. “It’s raining inside?”

“That could be what the waiter thought.”

He then noted the set table. He said, “Great. We can eat first.”

She replied stiffly. “I believe I shall shower.”

“No. Don’t. You have such a wonderful woman smell.”

“I…smell?”

And he made savoring sounds as he tried to hold her. He rooted his nose around her throat and tried to loosen the tightly tied coat belt. He inquired, “Going out?”

“I had to put something on to open the door.”

“Good thinking.”

“He thinks I’m a harlot.”

Chad lifted his head back and looked at her. “He said that?”

“No. He smiled in that way.”

“What way?”

“As if he knew what we’d been doing.”

Chad looked at the one messed-up bed and then he looked back at his ex-wife. “A logical conclusion. The pillows are back where they belong.”

“He did that.”

Chad tried not to grin too widely. “Tonight we’ll mess up the other bed first.”

“I am embarrassed.”

He was surprised by her. “We’re married!”

“We are not. We are divorced!”

“Ah, that doesn’t mean anything to a couple. It’s just a technicality. We’re legal.”

“I believe you are tilted in your thinking.”

He laughed in a good throat chuckle. “You’ve always tilted me, one way or another. I had to leave the house so that you could get some rest.”

“You gave all your attention to the college, you just used my body now and then.”

“You’re lucky I had the distraction of a commitment to the college, or you would have never gotten out of bed at all!”

She dismissed him. “You say that after I’ve been gone for four years—”

“Just over three years.”

She confronted the stickler and corrected him. “It is almost four. I’m twenty-eight.”

He slid a salacious glance down her body. “You’ve held together quite well.”

She leveled a look at him that showed him her adult maturity and tolerance.

She went to her suitcase, removed a pair of slacks and underwear, then chose a blouse.

“We’ll swim after we’ve breakfasted and read the paper.”

She looked up at him. She did want to swim. She took out pajamas and went to the bath, ignoring his very earnest protests.

She returned wearing the green silk pajamas for the first time, and was additionally wrapped in a cover-up of dark blue. She had a towel around her head.

He put down the paper and served her breakfast from the insulated pots.

There was hot cereal, fruit, remarkably sinful iced muffins, milk, tea and sugar mints. He had coffee. He hadn’t forgotten any of her needs.

She put the fruit on the cereal, butter and jam on the muffins, and she ate every bite.

When she sat back, he put down his paper and smiled. “Feeling better?”

She regarded the husband she had discarded, and she knew this was her chance to use him as she’d always wanted. He would not change, but this was an opportunity to live out her dream of a relationship.

If she could have him now, she could get him out of her system and then go on her way, freed of him. That was what this unexpected opportunity offered.

She smiled at him.

He laughed. He reached over and cupped her chin in his hand as he leaned to kiss her mouth. Then he lifted his head. His eyelashes almost covered his eyes and the crinkles at the corners deepened. “What a miracle to’ve found you again.”

She didn’t again say baloney to him. She just looked at him critically, searching for his flaws. As she’d always thought, he had no physical flaw. His flaws were limited to that of cohabitation.

Neglect of a chattel.

But he was trapped there, with her, and he had no escape. No other person could take his attention from her. She could wallow in his concentrated regard. Perhaps then he would know what he had missed in their marriage. And this time, it would be he who was abandoned, to stand alone, bereft, on the plain of nothingness.

Was she taking revenge?

She considered that. But she could not see how he could be harmed. He hadn’t changed. His marriage to her had not been important to him.

When they were married, he’d had the opportunity to cherish her or even just to include her in his life. He had not. He would not be harmed by an interlude with her.

It was only now that his clever tongue said things about disliking the word “divorce,” but his saying it didn’t mean anything. He’d had a long, long time to figure her out. And almost four years ago, he’d agreed to an amicable parting.

Her leaving hadn’t upset him or saddened him. He had only inquired if she wouldn’t like to stay long enough for her to earn her doctorate. At the time, such a polite question had sundered any lingering hope Jo might have had for their marriage.

Jo looked at her ex-husband and he was as she remembered him, as she’d dreamed of him. She watched him smile at her.

And she smiled back.

He laughed softly in his male throat and coaxed, “Come sit on my lap. I’ve not held a woman on my lap in too long.”

Her body got up and just wiggled right on over and sat itself down on his interested lap.

It was, of course, a part of her plan. She would get all of this kind of foolishness out of her system.

His hands were familiar. He found a mole he’d missed. “I’d wondered if you’d be so foolish as to have this removed. I love this mole. It proves you’re human.”

“Moleless people are inhuman?”

“Most goddesses don’t have moles. Only those who are partly human can contrive to have a mole or so. That fools human males and they believe they are dealing with real women instead of magic ones who can get away. How many other men have you lured?”

“Just you.”

He hugged her gently to him and groaned. “I’ve missed you.”

“How can you claim you’ve missed me?”

“I’ve felt vacant without you.”

“Come on, Chad, you were never around enough to even get acquainted with me. What you missed was the handy sex.”

“We did it by hand!”

In an adult way, she explained, “I was available.”

“You were the most important thing in my life. Are you finished running around being a single woman? Are you ready to come home? It’s time you did, you know. There’s a limit to what a good husband will tolerate in a flighty woman who wants to try her wings.”

Sitting on his lap, she asked, “Do you actually believe I left you in order to be on my own? I was already. I didn’t need to physically leave you. You were gone.”

“I was always there.”

He said that! He actually said it quite as if he thought he’d always been around!

She instructed, “Other men go home to be with their wives and mow their yards and help.”

“They do?”

“You never noticed?” She frowned at him.

“When we lived together, you were looking at other men?” In shock, he leaned back so that he could see her face.

“I wanted only to see you! I loved you. I wanted to be around you. You weren’t anywhere around. You were always busy.”

“I made our living.”

She exclaimed, “Twenty-four hours a day?”

“I wasn’t gone all the time.”

“You were gone most of the time.”

“Being a new assistant professor at Butler University is somewhat demanding, of time, if your students are to be taught what they should know.”

“A wife has none of the professor’s time.”

He said, “I slept with you every night.”

“You’ve mentioned that. You said it at the time. Sleeping isn’t one of those chatting times when a couple becomes acquainted and learns what the other person thinks or feels.”

“I felt around on you all night long, just about.”

She agreed, “Here and there.”

He looked at her body. “What did I miss? I thought I’d felt around everywhere.”

Jo corrected herself, “Now and then.”

“You’re still peeved.”

“No,” she replied. “I’ve adjusted. I’m going to enjoy this hiatus. When we say goodbye this time, we’ll do it better.”

“How can leaving me be. better?”

“I’ll know why it didn’t work the first time. Why it’s impossible. I won’t yearn for you.”

Quite soberly, he asked, “Did you? Did you.yearn for me after you’d left?”

She didn’t reply but slowly got off his lap. She removed the towel wrapped around her head and slowly began to rub her hair. Finally she said with some irony, “Chad, I yearned for you while I lived with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She stopped and turned her face to him in disbelief. She just looked at him.

“You did tell me.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, Jo.”

“It’s past. Let’s go swim.”

He sat and watched her. “I’ve missed you so terribly. I knew you were there to come home to. After you left, I dreamed of your sweet face and your voice. I missed your body in my bed. I remembered how it was to make love with you. Did you remember that?”

“Yes.”

He was sure. “We had a good marriage.”

“You had a good convenience.”

He watched her. “I love you.”

“Of course. Let’s go swim.”

He considered her, her mood, and he mentioned, “You just washed your hair.”

She shook her head. “It was so stale from being so sweaty that I would have polluted the pool.”

“You always were a stickler. There would be no way that you’d pollute a swimming pool.” Then he asked slyly, “Why did you sweat that way?”

She tilted up her chin and replied with some verve, “I haven’t a clue.”

Chad loved it. He laughed in the way men have when they’re flirting with a woman who pleases them.

That time there were other people swimming. But they were earnest lappers and took up only one side. On the other side, the two lovers played. He had his hands on her one way or another all the time. She smiled and flirted and taunted him.

They went back to their room to shower and dress, then they went out to investigate the highlights of Old Fort Worth. They saw the old cattle yards, and they checked out the railroad stations and the old saloons.

They had genuine TEXAS barbecue for lunch, but it wasn’t. It was meat with a hot sauce. They drank Pearl Beer and learned to roll the warmed tortillas so that the hot butter wouldn’t run out.

And they went to a theatre, which showed the old, early silent cowboy shorts with accompanying piano music.

One short featured a train engine. The heroine was tied to the train rails. She was rescued by the mancovered engine from a set fire that engulfed the forest. The camera people made it appear the heroine took off fifty petticoats so the men could beat out the roaring blaze.

There were other, similar film shorts, and the viewers loved every one. They could read the text out loud and laugh and chat and not bother the reception of the films. It was fun.

While the pair was casually dressed, they were welcomed to a marvelously elite place for dinner. And they talked as they relished perfect food served precisely. The presentation was an art.

When they returned to the hotel, they found a note saying they could make connections for their flights the next day. They should call.

In their room, the ex-marrieds considered each other quite seriously. And they decided they weren’t in that much hurry. So they canceled their reservations at the airport.

Chad called the delay to his college, and Jo reported in to her computer firm in Chicago.

Sharing the cost, they rented a car the next day and drove south to Austin. It is the state capitol. There, they snooped around to hear some great blues and country groups. They viewed the Guadalupe River and picnicked there along that wonderful, lazy waterway, which at one point meandered over a lumpy, white rock bed.

They found out why it’s said that the sunshine spends the winter in TEXAS. Of course, San Antonio brags that the winter sun stays only in their area.

The divorced couple walked all over downtown Austin and viewed the red granite state capitol building. They noted the TEXAS trees, and the fact that they are different from those in the north.

They saw the hundreds-of-years-old oak some person had tried to kill with chemicals. The tree was saved, they say, by putting crystals around it to counter the poison. A baffling act.

But along with the crystals, the state resource used countering chemicals. The money spent in saving the oak would have planted a hundred other trees.

There is no other vista like that of TEXAS. The visitors lounged and talked and laughed and looked. They then drove on down to San Antonio, and it was just like the features shown on TV. How amazing to see it actually.

And the Alamo.

A visitor’s skin still shivers with the intensity of the emotion still locked in that ground.

The travelers went to Fredricksburg and over to Bandera because someone said they should see the towns. And those different places were worth the trip. The two sightseers used up Chad’s entire leave. And it was special.

Unfortunately for Jo, their sojourn was exactly the way she’d expected to share time with Chad. How could he be so perfect? How could he not have shared such time with her during the six years they’d been married?

She felt more cheated than before when she’d only hoped for such a companionship. He was so knowledgeable. That was no surprise. She knew he was curious and erudite. But he was so companionable. How dare he be as magical as she’d always wanted? It made her mourn the lost years.

And it made her wary.

He said, “Quit your job and come home.”

He said that.

Not only could she just quit her job, which she loved and which kept her very well indeed, but he called his house and him…home.

Probably the worst of it all was that she was tempted.

He phoned in to Butler University in Indianapolis, Indiana, and said he was delayed. He was working on a problem. He would explain when he returned. He said his absence would be stimulating to the grad student who assisted him.

And the reply from Butler University was, “Is there any way we can help?”

Chad replied, “Thank you, no. This is a personal problem. I will solve it. But it might take several more days.”

“Call us if we can help.”

“Thank you.” And Chad hung up with a pleased smile.

They drove the rental car on down to Padre Island. There they could wade not only in the Gulf, but in the influx of Winter TEXANS. Before all the druggies, the farmers from the north wintering in TEXAS were called Snow Birds. The snow birds fly south, and so do the idle farmers. Well, actually they don’t all fly, they mostly just drive motor homes down. Now the Yankee farmers are called Winter TEXANS and they are included as citizens. Contributing citizens. They help the economy.

Without comment, the two idlers viewed the havoc wrought by intruding entrepreneurs on Padre Island. It was filled with high rise condos and hotels on either side of the sand island. And there were paved double highways down the middle of the sandbar. In all of that south TEXAS land, the buildings were a surprise. The rest of the area wasn’t so intruded upon.

The visiting pair drove over into Mexico and went through the shops. They bought wooden toys beautifully colored-tops, flutes and cups to catch an attached ball and yo-yos. They bought rawhide vests that were lined with sheep wool.

Chad bought Jo a designer watch, and a toad purse with a zipper on its stomach.

She was unsure about the zippered toad.

He explained in his class lecturing voice, “It’s a prince frog. When you kiss it, it will become a prince. For this metamorphosis, you have to take it to bed with you.”

She gave him a careful look.

Chad frowned with false impatience. “Don’t you remember the fairy tale?”

She said sober faced, “Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll explain when we get home.”

He did keep mentioning they would be going “home” to Indiana.

But she knew better. They would part long before that could ever happen.

In Mexico, she bought a dress that was swirly and colorful, and she bought him a white, loose, cotton, beautifully embroidered pullover shirt. With it were slim black trousers.

They bought huaraches, the leather strip woven, flat shoes that are so squeaky and interesting. And comfortable.

She found a blue felt jacket that was embroidered with yarn. It was just right. There were two pockets for her hands. The edges of the sleeves and the jacket were cross-stitched with the yarn of the decorations. It was different.

They returned the short distance to the Rio Grande, crossed back over the river into their own country and drove back to their hotel on Padre Island.

They dressed for supper. They were so companionable and intimate that Jo thought of their marriage. Had they ever had this easy closeness? This comfortable silence?

In all that time, she’d wanted the companionship that was then between them. When had they ever had the time to be silent friends? They’d had just beensilent. Either that or talking about some student who worried Chad. Then the conversation had been his verbal thinking on how to help or alter directions for the troubled one.

At that time, why hadn’t she said to Chad, “I’m not oriented. I’m unsure. I need help.” She never had. She’d listened. She hadn’t even been old enough to have opinions to help. She hadn’t had the ideas to contribute. Nor had she known how to discuss her isolation.

He had felt he was sharing.

She had felt left out, left behind, lacking in experience.

So did she now have the experience to help out? To listen? To observe?

Jo looked at her ex-husband. He was miles away. He was thinking about something else altogether. She could not hold his attention, even now.

He caught her observation. He said, “What would you think about coming back to Indiana with me? You are so self-confident now, that I believe you could handle being a prof’s wife. Let’s see, shall we? I want you back. I’ve missed you like bloody hell.”

“How could anyone miss anything ‘like bloody hell’ and actually want it? That sounds quite awful.”

“That’s how it’s been for me since you left.”

“You’ve hidden it well.”

“I married you too soon. You needed some adult shine—that’s like city shine for a country boy.”

“You’ve been researching living with a student?”

“In all this time, I’ve talked to your dad. He’s told me where you are, what you’re doing and if you’re going with anyone very much. He’s kept me in touch.”

“You’ve actually, really been talking to Dad?”

“I like him.”

“What all has he said?”

“To be patient. You need to mature.”

She gasped in indignation, “He would never have told you that!”

Chad nodded and replied, “Actually, he said you’re immature. That you take after your mother who took years to become adult.”

“He did not say that!”

Chad laughed. “No, he didn’t. He’s hard-nosed and it took me forever to just get him to recognize that I love you, and I’d wait through anything to get you back.”

“Hah!”

“That ‘hah’ is proof you haven’t made it yet, but it’s better than ‘baloney’ or—”

She shrieked!

He frowned and complained, “Now what am I going to say when all the TEXANS come arunning to defend your honor?”

“You’ll think of something smooth. You’ll probably say I’m backing out on an agreement to, uh, cooperate.”

He smiled and said, “Great! I knew you’d come up with the perfect defense. Thank—”

“I’ll tell the truth.”

He was disgusted. “You’ve always been a stickler.”

“What did my mother say in all these conversations?”

“She won’t speak to me. She thinks I’m a rat.”

Jo laughed. “Really? I misjudged her! I thought she’d be on your side.”

“What does she say to you?”

“That I’m a fool to let you get away.”

He nodded again. “With parents as logical as yours, how did you get the way you are?”

“Dad says I’m not his, and mother claims I’m a throwback.”

“Thrown away?”

She enunciated clearly as she finished the sentence, “—of another time.”

Three

It was very interesting how Chad could manuever Jo. She was trusting. She was used to computer hacks who were open, honest and sharing. It never really entered her head that Chad was sly.

On their way back north, they did not drive through one single place that had a commercial airport. It was incredible, especially in TEXAS where the distances are far.

Once she said, “I’d no idea the land in TEXAS was so isolated.”

And he’d had the gall to reply, “Yeah.”

They were going up the west side of the state so that, he said, he could see the “real West” for comparison as to the progress in the rest of the country. That was exactly what Chad told Jo.

Chad would go into a filling station miles from nowhere and come back to say to Jo, “Darn, we passed the turnoff too far back.”

Jo would look at the map and hunt. Then she’d look up and ask, “Where is this place on the map?”

And he’d study it and point out a vacant space. “We’re here.”

She’d study it from all angles while she bit her lip and ruffled her hair as she searched the minute dots in that great blank area. She was so diligent that she’d always find something, and she’d tell Chad, “Here’s one. It might just be a double seater, but it could get me to another airport.”

With interest, he’d reply, “Let me see. Yeah, but that’s out of our way. See? There’s a Council Bluff there. It’s an Indian meeting place.”

The sides of her mouth turned down as she retorted, “It seems to me those Indians did a lot of meeting.”

He nodded and agreed, “Probably trying to figure a way to get rid of us.”

With some interest, she asked, “Since you teach World History, how did Europeans manage to ‘discover’ all the virgin lands? I understand there were nine hundred tribes of Indians living just in TEXAS at the time the Spanish landed and ‘discovered’ this ‘uninhabited’ country.”

“It’s attitude,” he explained kindly. “It’s like your inability to see mice.”

She disagreed, “It was the traps I couldn’t empty.”

“You threw the trap away with the poor little, limp, dead body still trapped and you bought new traps.”

She observed, “You’re very knowledgeable. I hadn’t realized you were aware of that problem. When did you notice?”

“You kept a neat stack of receipts. They were fascinating reading.”

She slid a sideways look at him. “You were a snoop.”

As he drove along, he moved out his one arm in an entirely open communication of fact with no secrets. “I had to know how our money was being spent so quickly. It was mostly on mousetraps.”

Prissily, she retorted, “I bought an occasional lipstick.”

“A hussy.” He agreed with the label for her.

She tilted back her head and lifted her eyebrows. “I curled my own hair.”

He smiled.

She mentioned, “You’re a tightwad.”

He watched the road kindly. Since he’d lured her attention from the map, he continued his distraction. “In your checking account at home is something close to six thousand dollars, that’s with interest, which is the accumulation of your pin money.”

“Is that what’s paying for this car?”

He licked his smile. “No.”

She reminded him, “We are divorced. You have no responsibility toward me. The money is yours.”

He corrected her, “We’re not divorced, we’re just separated. You’ve had to have room to stretch, and you needed to be away from me to do that because I tend to control.” He elaborated in an aside, “The need to control is just part of being a teacher.”

“I hadn’t noticed control as much as absence.”

He chided her, “You sent my checks back.”

“For almost six years, you’d paid for my room and board, and it was because of your teaching position that I also have my master’s.”

He watched the road as he bit his lower lip in thought. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I thought of you as more than a bedmate. If I’d known you were lending me your body in exchange for your education, I’d have felt more—What are you doing? Stop that!” He grabbed her arm as he swerved the car on the isolated road and pulled to a stop. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

With the door half-open, furiously rigid, her eyes shooting sparks, she said at him over her shoulder, “I was your wife!”

“Aw, honey, I know that. I was teasing.”

“You lecher!”

“Well, yes. But I’m also your husband.” He smiled at the angry woman and soothed. “I was teasing. Honest.”

But she started to cry.

He was stunned. With the car stopped, he turned to her, gentled and concerned. “Did I hurt you?”

She gulped and her trembling voice retorted, “For years.”

He was silent for a while as she barely allowed him to hold her. Her softness was squashed by the smoothed planes of his male body. He rubbed his chest just a bit against her movable breasts, and he groaned.

Then he said in a rather foggy manner, “I hadn’t really understood how young you were.” He moved his face around on hers and his breathing became different. His hands were a little careless.

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