This month, in

THE BACHELOR TAKES A WIFE

by Jackie Merritt

Meet Keith Owens—the most eligible millionaire in Royal, Texas. He’s a businessman who always gets what he wants, and what he wants now is Andrea O’Rourke, his high school sweetheart. Keith will do just about anything to reignite the passion he and Andrea once shared—but will he stick around when he discovers Andrea’s little secret?

SILHOUETTE DESIRE

IS PROUD TO PRESENT THE

Five wealthy Texas bachelors—all members of the state’s most exclusive club—set out to uncover the traitor in their midst…and find true love.

Dear Reader,

Summer vacation is simply a state of mind…so create your dream getaway by reading six new love stories from Silhouette Desire!

Begin your romantic holiday with A Cowboy’s Pursuit by Anne McAllister. This MAN OF THE MONTH title is the author’s 50th book and part of her CODE OF THE WEST miniseries. Then learn how a Connelly bachelor mixes business with pleasure in And the Winner Gets…Married! by Metsy Hingle, the sixth installment of our exciting DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS continuity series.

An unlikely couple swaps insults and passion in Maureen Child’s The Marine & the Debutante—the latest of her popular BACHELOR BATTALION books. And a night of passion ignites old flames in The Bachelor Takes a Wife by Jackie Merritt, the final offering in TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE LAST BACHELOR continuity series.

In Single Father Seeks… by Amy J. Fetzer, a businessman and his baby captivate a CIA agent working under cover as their nanny. And in Linda Conrad’s The Cowboy’s Baby Surprise, an amnesiac FBI agent finds an undreamed-of happily-ever-after when he’s reunited with his former partner and lover.

Read these passionate, powerful and provocative new Silhouette Desire romances and enjoy a sensuous summer vacation!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Bachelor Takes a Wife
Jackie Merritt

JACKIE MERRITT

is still writing, just not with the speed and constancy of years past. She and hubby are living in southern Nevada again, falling back on old habits of loving the long, warm or slightly cool winters and trying almost desperately to head north for the months of July and August, when the fiery sun bakes people and cacti alike.

“What’s Happening in Royal?”

NEWS FLASH, June—As usual, Royal’s Texas Cattleman’s Club ball was a smashing success! Could there have been any doubt? Glamorous women, sexy gents, fabulous food…and all for a wonderful cause. This year’s charity is Royal’s very own New Hope battered women’s shelter. New Hope’s representative, Andrea O’Rourke, was on hand at the ball to receive the hefty donation, along with the exclusive attentions of millionaire Keith Owens….

Ms. O’Rourke has refused to discuss her relationship to the debonair tycoon, but sources tell us that Andrea and Keith were a hot item back in their high school days…. Is there still something simmering between them? If so, the ladies of Royal are going to have to look elsewhere for an eligible man. This elusive executive may be going down for the count.

Do the members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club know who murdered Eric Chambers? Rumor has it that the culprit may be a club member…. Is there a traitor among them? If so, the murderer had better watch out, because justice is closing in….

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Prologue

Keith Owens was well aware of Jason Windover’s air of contentment as he and his friends prepared cups of coffee for themselves at a serving cart, then sat in comfortable chairs around a table in one of the Cattleman’s Club’s private meeting rooms. Jason good-naturedly laughed off the teasing remarks about his and Merry’s honeymoon, from which they’d returned only the day before, because it was all in fun and he’d expected some tongue-in-cheek banter from his buddies. But he wasn’t above giving back at least part of what he was getting, and Keith, being the only bachelor remaining in the group, just naturally seemed to be his best target.

“Just you wait, old pal,” Jason drawled. “Some sweet-lookin’ little gal is out there this very minute, just biding her time for the right moment to rope and hog-tie Royal’s most elusive executive.”

“Elusive executive?” Keith repeated with a laugh, and looked around the table for confirmation or denial from Sebastian Wescott, William Bradford, Robert Cole and, of course, Jason, all of whom wore big smiles. “Is that what I am?”

“Sounds like an apt description to me,” Sebastian said. “Good work, Jason.”

“Thanks,” Jason said with a cocky grin at Keith.

“All right, I get it,” Keith said. “I’m the last bachelor among you jokers, and you’re not going to let me forget it. Well, put this in your pipes and smoke it, old friends. I happen to enjoy bachelorhood.”

“So did we when we were young and foolish,” Rob said with an overly dramatic sigh.

Everyone laughed, because they’d all been bachelors only five months ago and they’d been neither young nor foolish. Only one thing had happened to change their status from single to married—falling in love, which was a mighty powerful force, as they had discovered. And not a man around that table—other than Keith—believed that Royal’s “elusive executive” would remain a bachelor for long. After all, hadn’t he already tossed his hat in the ring by naming New Hope Charity for battered women as the beneficiary of the Cattleman’s Club’s annual charity benefit? That decision would bring Andrea O’Rourke, Keith’s old college flame, back into his life, since she was the volunteer at New Hope who dealt firsthand with public donations. It seemed to the men around the table that if Keith hadn’t wanted contact with Andrea, then he would have named an entirely different charity to receive this year’s check.

No one said so, though, as some subjects weren’t up for open and verbal conjecture. They could tease Jason, because he’d just come back from his honeymoon, but they couldn’t make light of Keith’s sudden interest in renewing ties with Andrea.

“Much as I’m enjoying this,” Keith interjected, “I think it’s time we got down to the reason we called this meeting. Dorian.” The other four friends sobered at once. They all shared the strong suspicion that Dorian Brady had murdered Eric Chambers, an accountant at Wescott Oil. But so far, they had no proof of his involvement.

Keith continued. “We’ve been doing our best to keep an eye on Dorian during your absence, Jason, and none of us have spotted anything suspicious. In fact, it appears that, if anything, Dorian has been deliberately maintaining a low profile.”

“That’s suspicious in itself,” Jason said. “Don’t you agree, Sebastian?”

“Dorian was never low-key before,” Sebastian soberly agreed. He was understandably more deeply affected by recent events than the others, since Dorian was his half brother. “Except when it fitted his agenda. As you all know, his showing up out of the blue was one hell of a shock. We look so much alike, I never for a minute doubted his story about Dad being his father, and I still don’t. Putting him to work at Wescott Oil was a bad error in judgment, however. My only excuse was that I really wanted to help him.”

“None of what happened is your fault, Sebastian,” Keith said quietly. “How do honest people deal with a snake like Dorian? He’s deliberately gone out of his way to undermine your authority and good reputation with the company and the community in general. Don’t blame yourself for anything Dorian’s done.”

“Considering his background with Merry’s sister even before he came to Royal, he was a louse then and he’s a louse now,” Jason said stonily. No one could disagree with that summation, and the conversation changed directions.

“What we still can’t figure out is his motive for murder. What was Eric Chambers to him, other than a co-worker? It simply doesn’t add up.”

“And let’s not forget Dorian’s alibi,” Will said. “Maybe we should talk to Laura Edwards about that. Double-check her story about Dorian being at the diner at the time of Eric’s murder.”

“Why would she lie?” Sebastian asked and got up for a coffee refill. “I’ve wrestled with motive since the murder, and I have a hunch that it’s somehow connected to me. Jason, I know you were uneasy about Dorian from the start.” Sebastian resumed his seat. “Why?”

“We’ve covered this ground before,” Keith said.

“Yes, but obviously we’re missing something,” Sebastian said. He frowned slightly and added, “What could it be?”

“His computer files imply that Dorian was blackmailing Eric,” Jason reminded them all. “Merry discovered that.”

“Yes, but those files do not explain the blackmail. What was Eric up to that Dorian was able to discover and use against him? Maybe if we knew more about Eric,” he mused. “What do we really know about him?”

“He worked for Wescott for quite a few years,” Sebastian volunteered. “He was a very private individual with a cat as his only companion. He was divorced long before coming to work for Wescott, so no one I know has ever met his ex. He lived alone—with his cat—in a small house. That struck me as odd, because he made a good annual salary.”

“Which he could have been paying to his ex-wife in alimony,” Keith said.

“But he wasn’t. His wife had remarried quite a while back, ending the alimony payments, and there were no children for Eric to support. He could’ve afforded a much better home, considering his earning power.”

“Follow the money,” Jason said, half in jest.

But the simple concept simultaneously struck all five men as critically important. They looked at each other, and several of them nodded. Months ago, money had gone missing at Wescott Oil. Sebastian, accused of killing Eric and taking the money—a ridiculous charge when he owned the company and had more money than he could ever spend—had been completely exonerated and all charges against him had been dropped. Since then, everyone had been concentrating on Eric’s murder. The missing money was still unexplained, a loose end left dangling.

It could be the clue they had been hoping to uncover and follow up on.

One

Andrea O’Rourke was given the good news on the first of June. “New Hope has been named by the Texas Cattleman’s Club as the primary beneficiary of this year’s charitable donation!” The other volunteers present at the time were overjoyed and began discussing what could be done with the money. New Hope’s most crucial need was money for expansion, but how much would the donation be? Everyone knew the club’s annual charity ball donations were legendary, but the sums distributed to needy causes were never publicized.

Andrea tried to appear as thankfully elated as the other volunteers in the meeting room of the big old house that served as a sanctuary for battered and abused women. The building was the heart and soul of New Hope Charity, and the meeting room was pleasant with comfortable mismatched chairs, several desks where paperwork was taken care of, and a table with the tools and supplies to brew coffee and tea.

While Andrea rejoiced at New Hope’s good fortune in her own quiet, subdued way, she also suffered an internal ache that she would never even attempt to explain to these good ladies. Residents of Royal, Texas, knew that she was the volunteer who acted as New Hope’s representative for events that benefited the charity. The more Andrea thought about it, the more suspicious she became that Keith Owens, longtime member of the Cattleman’s Club and the one citizen of Royal whom Andrea tried diligently to avoid, was behind the good deed that had the other ladies in the room giddy with delight.

I’ll have to attend the club’s annual charity ball! I’ll have to accept the donation with thanks, probably even have to say a few words about New Hope. Well, I’ve done that before at other events, but not with Keith Owens looking on and undoubtedly smiling that overbearing, egotistical smile of his while I’m on stage!

Oh, my heavens! What if he’s the member passing out the award?

No! I won’t do it, I can’t do it.

But of course she could do it, and she would, however painful to herself. Looking around at the generous women who gave time, energy, intelligence and individual talents to New Hope, Andrea was aware that none of them really knew her. They thought they did, and she encouraged that impression because her privacy was crucial to the quiet lifestyle she had fashioned for herself. She had lived alone since the death of her husband five years before, and her preference for dignity and serenity in everything from her home to her personal demeanor eliminated a good many people who had attempted a close friendship. Those friends who had made the cut were truly cherished by Andrea, and for the most part they enjoyed the same gentle entertainment that she did—primarily small dinner parties and elegant little luncheons at which intellectual discussions of literature, music, fashion and personal hobbies took place.

Keith Owens was not in that circle and never would be. Andrea had never stepped foot inside the Texas Cattleman’s Club’s sprawling two-and-a-half-story clubhouse—decorated, she’d heard, in dark paneling, heavy leather furniture and stuffed animal heads. Visualizing herself doing so the night of the charity ball actually made her shudder. She couldn’t share that thought with the group, of course, and why would she? Were the intimate details of her life—past or present—anyone’s business, but her own? Of course not.

Again scanning the women, Andrea uneasily wondered how many of them, if any, knew about her and Keith’s commingled past. It seemed a silly concern when their history had ended almost twenty years ago—both she and Keith were thirty-eight years old now—but some people had such damnably long memories.

Andrea suddenly couldn’t sit still a moment longer. Rising from her chair, she smiled at the group and said, “I’m terribly sorry, but I just remembered a very important appointment. I really must run.”

The women accepted her story and bid her goodbye, and before Andrea had even gone through the door they were back to fantasizing about New Hope’s windfall.

Andrea left with acidic resentment gnawing at her vitals. If it weren’t for Keith Owens’s participation in the club’s gift to New Hope, she would have been as genuinely overjoyed as the other volunteers were.

Damn him! How dare he create disturbances on the smooth pathway of her daily existence after so many years?

Keith kept himself in good physical shape in his home gym. A personal trainer came to the house twice a week to put Keith through the paces, check his vitals and advise him on diet and general fitness. The rest of the week Keith worked out on his own. He liked exercising himself into a sweat, and his exertion, followed by a shower, always seemed to clear his head.

The morning after New Hope had been notified of the club’s choice—most definitely an honor for any charity organization—Keith went to his gym with his usual good intentions. But he hadn’t slept as well as he usually did, and instead of diving into his exercise program, he dawdled around for about ten minutes, then lost interest and went down to his kitchen for some coffee and the morning paper.

The coffee tasted good but he couldn’t concentrate on the daily news. Frowning slightly he leaned back in his chair and stared off into space. He felt adrift, uncentered, and he didn’t have to wonder why: It was all about anticipation and the knowledge that Andrea would be at the ball.

For years they had ignored each other, or tried to ignore each other. When something unforeseen and unpreventable brought them together—always briefly—they said hello, but Andrea’s polite voice and unsmiling countenance emitted enough ice to chill to the bone anyone within hearing range. He had to ask himself why he was forcing them to meet again when Andrea had only tried to avoid him. He didn’t doubt that she would be civil at the ball—he’d observed those cool, impeccable manners of hers more than once—but since when had an evening of distant, chilly civility from a woman held any appeal for him?

Deep down, Keith knew the answer to all of his questions about Andrea. He wanted things to be different between them. He wanted her to talk to him without that famous chill, to look at him and really see him, and to treat him as she once had. Would the ball change anything? Maybe not. Probably not, if he was completely honest about it. But it was an opportunity to spend some time with her.

Accepting that summation with a knot in his gut, Keith turned his thoughts to the problem of proving Dorian Brady’s guilt. It was frustrating as hell to be certain of something and not be able to come up with enough evidence to take to the police. Mulling it over for at least the tenth time since his last meeting with Sebastian, Rob, Jason and Will, something that had been niggling at Keith abruptly rose to the surface. Getting up from the table, he went to the telephone, took it from its cradle and walked around the room while he dialed a number.

“Sebastian? I’m glad I caught you. Listen, I’d like to pick up Eric’s computer. I should’ve thought of it before. I know the police checked the computer and so did Rob. He found Eric’s personal journal and that e-mail message and, believe me, I’m not minimizing Rob’s…or the police expert’s…computer abilities, but if there’s one thing I know through and through, it’s computers. There could be more information in disguised or hidden files that everyone thus far has missed. I think I should check it out.”

Keith’s extremely successful career had been built around computer software, and no one got very far with software unless they understood computer hardware—the nuts and bolts of the machine, so to speak. He could take a computer apart and put it back together in mere minutes. Hell, he could build one from scratch if he had the components on hand. In some cases he could actually create the components. Owens Techware was a well-known and highly respected contributor of technical software the world over.

“Yes, you’re the logical person to do that,” Sebastian agreed with a spark of excitement in his voice. “You may be on to something, Keith. Pick it up anytime. I had it put in storage.”

“Great. I’ll come by Wescott Oil sometime today.”

After hanging up the phone, Keith let Andrea enter his mind again, but only for a few moments. Heaving a sigh because he had never understood himself where Andrea was concerned, he went to take the shower he should have taken earlier.

The elegant old clubhouse and its immaculate grounds seemed magical on ball night. Hundreds of tiny white lights bedecked shrubbery and trees, and every window in the building glowed with warm, golden light.

The limousine in which Andrea was riding crept toward the club’s entrance. It was following a long line of luxury cars and limousines that stopped only long enough to dispatch beautifully dressed guests, so it was stop and go, stop and go, for about ten minutes.

Seated in the limousine’s back seat Andrea drew a long breath rife with disapproval and dissatisfaction. She had accepted being manipulated into attending this year’s ball, but she was adamant about it not happening again under any circumstances. If club members chose to bestow some of their wealth on New Hope again, she was going to weasel out of this duty by hook or by crook. She absolutely hated the club’s insistence on picking her up in a showy limousine. She was not a limousine person, and she felt completely out of place in it.

This, too, she blamed on Keith Owens. No one would ever convince her that he hadn’t dreamed up this whole scenario just to embarrass her, and, however much she would like to cut him cold tonight, she was going to have to smile and chat and act as though she didn’t resent the air he breathed.

She had not willingly given Keith the time of day since college, though they ran into each other every so often. Accidental meetings—inevitable in towns the size of Royal, Texas—never failed to unnerve her. Just the sight of Keith raised her blood pressure and made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a condition she attributed to a mix of extreme tension and dislike. He had, after all, nearly destroyed her that night so long ago. That night when she’d naively expected a marriage proposal, and instead Keith had proposed a business partnership. A business partnership! He’d been full of himself then, and from the little she’d seen of him over the years, he was still full of himself.

On that particular night she’d been totally crushed and had angrily let him have it, making it clear that she was going to major in education and wanted nothing to do with his business plans. To make matters worse, Keith had derided her choice of careers—teaching—and boasted about his ambitions. Although Keith had made a fortune in computer software, Andrea had felt in her heart that her career rewards as a teacher far exceeded Keith’s. But he would never, ever understand putting joy in one’s personal accomplishments ahead of an ever-increasing bank account.

Andrea shook her head just as the limousine braked precisely at the club’s main entrance. She disliked these particular trips down memory lane. Usually she had no trouble avoiding these memories in favor of those that gave her pleasure instead of riling emotions that she would rather not poke and prod to life.

The limo door was opened by a uniformed greeter. Andrea took his outstretched hand and allowed him to assist her from the vehicle. People were everywhere, she saw—going into the club or standing outside to chat. Laughter and conversation mingled with the muted music inside the club and floated out on the evening air. The dress code for the ball was formal, which had once dictated that men wore black. Not these days. There were tuxedoes in many different colors, and the males in attendance were almost as flamboyantly clad as their female companions. The ladies, however, were also gleaming from the exquisite jewelry around their necks, in their hair, on their wrists and fingers, and anywhere else they could attach diamonds, emeralds, pearls and rubies to their person.

The limousine moved away and another vehicle immediately took its place. Andrea began walking toward the entrance and gasped in surprise when someone took her arm.

“Good evening,” Keith said, his lips brazenly close to her ear. “I wasn’t sure whether you would arrive alone or with an escort, so I’ve been out here watching for you. Since you’re alone, I’m appointing myself your guide, counselor, escort and buddy for this evening’s festivities.”

Despite her annoyance, Andrea couldn’t help but register his good looks, which shook her aplomb and irritated her no end. His tuxedo was a wonderful shade of tan that was almost exactly the color of his light-caramel-hued hair. The quirky smile that had captured her heart back in college was still his best feature, although his thickly lashed dark-brown eyes ran a very close second. Admiring and eventually drooling over Keith Owens’s good looks had caused her pain and heartache in her college years. Maturity had provided her with some advantages, thank goodness, one of which was an understanding of just how unimportant good looks really were. She’d figured that out only a few years after college, because the man she’d married had been wonderfully pleasant-looking but not drop-dead handsome, as Keith was. Frankly, everything about Keith galled her, especially his overbearing assumption that he could appoint himself her escort for the evening.

“I think not,” she said coolly, trying to pull her arm out of his.

“Think again. It’s only good protocol for our guest of honor to have an escort,” Keith said smoothly while giving her a head-to-foot inspection. She was utterly beautiful. In college she’d been pretty, with long black hair and dark-blue eyes. Hell, she’d been cute as a button when she’d been a kid, a fact he remembered very well because they’d grown up next door to each other. But cute and pretty simply weren’t the right words to describe how she looked now. Her figure was incredible, especially provocative in that two-piece ivory gown she was wearing. It fit like a dream, from its high neckline all the way down its classic lines to a hem incorporating one sexy slit that permitted brief glimpses of the lower portion of her left leg. It was a marvelous dress, Keith decided, its delightful color accenting Andrea’s hair and eyes. Her black hair was much shorter now, but its simple style was extremely becoming to her beautiful face.

“If I had wanted or believed I needed an escort, I would have invited a friend to accompany me this evening. Your protocol is about fifty years outdated. You may find this a major shock to your good-old-country-boy beliefs, but nowadays women actually walk and talk all on their own. Please let go of my arm.”

“I’ll let go of yours if you’ll take mine.”

“How about if I kick you in the knee, put you out of commission and get rid of you that way?”

“Resorting to violence already, are we?”

Andrea shook off his hand with one big jerk of her arm. “That’s enough childish horseplay!” She started walking toward the entrance, fully aware of Keith keeping up with her every step. He wasn’t going away, however rude she might be. She heaved a sigh. The evening was going to be as unbearable as she’d anticipated.

Inside the club there was a receiving line, and while Keith bantered and laughed with his friends greeting the arriving guests, Andrea smiled congenially, and furtively checked out the décor. It was as dreadfully macho as she’d been told. Was that a boar’s head over the mantel? She shook hands and made appropriate comments to people she recognized but just barely knew. Her friends were not members of this club, which admittedly did a lot of good for the community but was also known for some very rowdy escapades. Now that Andrea was inside she could tell that the band was playing some very lively songs, mostly with a country-and-western slant. Well, what did you expect? Schubert? Beethoven? Chopin?

“My dear, we’re all so proud of this year’s choice of charities,” an older woman, Janice Morrison, wife to a lifetime member of the club, said while gripping Andrea’s hand in a long handshake. Mrs. Morrison’s diamond necklace alone would have financed the operation of New Hope for five years, Andrea thought, although she certainly did not begrudge the congenial woman her astounding necklace. Andrea was wearing very little jewelry herself—a pearl-and-diamond ring and matching earrings—but she had some very good pieces in her safe. They were gifts from Jerry, her deceased husband, which was the only reason she kept them, because she hadn’t worn the items since his death.

“We at New Hope are both proud and delighted,” Andrea murmured. “Be assured that all donations will be put to very good use.”

“I’m sure they will. My, you two make a fine-looking couple,” Mrs. Morrison gushed.

The woman was gazing from her to Keith, and Andrea’s smile faded a little as she withdrew her hand. Keith saved the day by quipping, “We’re just a couple of old friends, Janice.”

Janice Morrison wasn’t convinced. “Who do you think you’re kidding, Keith Owens?”

Andrea wilted internally. Here was a lady with a long memory, and there were probably dozens of others attending the ball that also remembered when the Vances and the Owenses—her parents and Keith’s—had lived next door to each other. This time, when Keith took Andrea’s arm to steer her away from the receiving line, she felt too weak to protest. How in heaven’s name was she going to make it through an entire evening of innuendo and reminders and still keep on smiling?

“Sorry about that,” Keith said to her.

Andrea forgot about smiling and her eyes flashed angrily. “Why would you expect anything else when you’re sticking to me like glue?”

“Would you really rather be left on your own in this crowd?”

“I’d rather not give anyone the wrong impression!” Andrea glanced around. “Do you have any idea of how many people are looking at us right now?”

Keith glanced around himself, then grinned wickedly. “Quite a few, by the looks of it. Wonder what they’re whispering about. Maybe they’re wondering if we’re sleeping together.”

Andrea gaped at him. “Are you mad? We didn’t even sleep together when we dated!”

“That sure wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t. Since you had—and probably still do have—the morals of an alley cat.”

“Don’t tell me the subject of sex still embarrasses you. Andrea, you’re a big girl now. Actually, when I think about it, you were a big girl in college, but you had far too many hang-ups for a…” Keith wisely closed his mouth. He’d been about to say something about randy young college men, but decided to avoid that topic for the present. “How about a glass of champagne?” he asked instead.

“If I say no are you going to go off and find someone else to badger?”

“Nope.”

“Then yes, I’d like a glass of champagne.”

“Great.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, and enjoying a delicious tingle in his lower regions from the physical contact, Keith steered her through the crowd to one of the bars and ordered two glasses of champagne. After handing one to Andrea he smiled and said, “Cheers, sweetheart, and let me add that you’ve got what it takes.”

Andrea felt heat rising in her cheeks and knew that she’d turned pink. “What on earth are you talking about? Why didn’t you stop at ‘cheers’ and make this a tolerable occasion?”

“You know, I should have. Sometimes I say things without thinking. I mean, that was obviously a compliment, but if I had thought about it before speaking, I would probably have postponed it until you’d had a couple of glasses of champagne.”

Andrea glared at him. “Meaning I would appreciate crude remarks then? You didn’t know me in college and you don’t know me now. I never liked your crudity, which you would remember for yourself if your self-serving, smug, conceited head wasn’t bigger than Rhode Island!”

Keith roared with laughter. “Andy, I absolutely adore you.”

“Oh, give me a break,” she drawled, although her heart was suddenly pounding unmercifully fast. He didn’t mean what he’d said, for heaven’s sake. He was just the kind of man who said outrageous things to women and then laughed at their reactions. He obviously believed he was God’s gift to womankind, and maybe he was—for some women—but he was no gift in her estimation. He was a cad without a conscience, and he didn’t even have the grace to pretend otherwise.

He peered, owl-like, at her over the rim of his glass as he took another swallow. “How about a game of tit for tat?”

“Which is?” she asked, frowning and suspicious.

“I’ll give you a break if you get rid of that stick up your spine. You used to be a fun person to be with. You used to laugh a lot. You’re arguably the most beautiful woman here and if people are staring and speculating, that’s why. After all, I’ve been single and alone for four years. I’d have to be crazy to be talking with the loveliest lady here and not let you—and everyone else—know that I’m interested.”

Andrea gasped. “Do you actually have the temerity to think I care if you’re interested?” Fury set in then, and she felt herself start to tremble. She had to get away from him before she let the whole crowd know that she could happily murder Keith Owens where he stood. “Which way is the ladies’ room?” she asked. It was at that moment that she realized she didn’t have her handbag. “Oh, no, I left it in the limousine!”

“Left what in the limo?”

“My handbag.” She glared into Keith’s eyes. If she hadn’t been so unnerved by the evening ahead at the time of arrival, she never would have left anything in that accursed limousine. This, too, was Keith’s fault. “Where do they park the limousines? I need to get my bag.”

“I’ll show you.”

Just then a man’s voice intruded on them. “Well, this must be the guest of honor, Andrea O’Rourke.”

Both Andrea and Keith turned a bit to see the man. Keith’s expression was no longer flirtatious and friendly, Andrea saw with some surprise. In fact, he was actually glowering at a very attractive man in an elegantly tailored black tuxedo.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Keith?” the man asked in a dangerously slick voice. Andrea could tell that Keith didn’t want this stranger even saying hello to her.

The man gave a dry little laugh. “Apparently the cat has taken hold of Keith’s tongue. Permit me to introduce myself, Andrea. I’m Dorian Brady.” He reached out and took Andrea’s hand. “This is an honor and a great pleasure,” Dorian said.

Andrea was not pleased. Dorian might be physically attractive, but something about him made her uneasy. She pulled her hand from his and said, “Thank you.” Keith was still scowling at Dorian, which was puzzling, since Keith seemed to be on friendly terms with all the other club members. “The directions to the parking lot, please?” Andrea asked him stiffly.

“Well, I can see that the two of you are quite involved. You will excuse me, won’t you? Good evening, Andrea. Perhaps we will meet again.” Dorian bowed slightly and departed.

“That creep,” Keith mumbled. “Andrea, give that guy a very wide berth.”

“I plan to, but not because of your orders,” she replied sharply. “Now how do I find the limousine parking area?”

Keith pulled himself together. Dorian’s unexpected intrusion had unnerved him. Actually, Keith had expected that Dorian would avoid the ball, especially since Merry and Jason were there. Maybe it was time the club members voted to revoke Dorian’s membership. Keith couldn’t remember a member ever being banned before, but there must be something in the bylaws about membership reversal.

Calmer again, he said to Andrea, “Why don’t I go and get your handbag? I could do it in half the time it would take you.”

“Just give me the directions,” she repeated.

“Fine,” Keith said with a disgusted shake of his head. He glanced around and was relieved to see nothing of Dorian. He didn’t want Andrea wandering the grounds alone with Dorian hot on her trail. Maybe Dorian had shown his face just to prove he could and had already left. “Go through that far door, which leads to a patio restaurant, then leave the patio and follow the main path through the flower garden, go past the pool and you will reach the club’s valet-parking area. The limousines are usually parked on the right side of the lot.”

It sounded like a long walk to Andrea, and his offer to run and get her handbag made a lot more sense than her strolling that far on high heels. But she’d already refused his help, and pride wouldn’t permit her to backtrack. Andrea handed him her glass. Then, with a stony expression and a clipped and unfriendly “Thank you,” she turned on her heel and headed for the far door.

Walking as fast as possible in her dressy high heels, Andrea easily followed Keith’s directions. Her thoughts were still in a whirl from having to deal with Keith tonight. His mix of good looks, cocky personality and overwhelming self-confidence shouldn’t be allowed. She’d fallen head over heels for him years before she should even have noticed that he was a boy and she a girl, and while it nearly killed her to admit such a thing tonight, he was still a dangerous distraction to her emotional well-being.

Did he affect every female that way, or was she particularly susceptible to him?

Impossible, she decided. He probably drew women the way honey drew bees. She was just feeling overheated because of a very old romance and she resented it so much that she had to blink back tears of frustration.

Keith had said she was fun in college, and that she had laughed a lot. Obviously he’d never seen beneath the laughter to the serious young woman underneath who had adored him since childhood. Much of it had been hero worship. He’d been her favorite playmate and the friend to whom she could tell anything. He’d been the first boy to kiss her. They’d been around eleven at the time and had decided that kissing wasn’t nearly as much fun as swinging a bat in a softball game or doing cannonball leaps into a swimming pool.

High school had changed both of them. He’d become one of the swaggering superstar jocks, too cute to be believed and the target of every girl in school. Andrea had still adored him, but Keith’s head had swelled intolerably from his sudden popularity and she hadn’t been able to resist telling him to get real and to come back down to earth. He hadn’t taken criticism well, and their friendship had cooled drastically so that they rarely had even said hello to one another. The summer after high-school graduation they’d gotten back together and were thrilled to learn they had both been accepted at the same college, their plan for many years before Keith had grown too big for his britches.

Oh, yes, she’d been fun and had laughed at everything. What girl wouldn’t laugh a lot when she was in a wonderful college and had the best-looking, most popular boyfriend of any of her sorority sisters?

But then, of course, Keith began wanting more than kisses. And to be perfectly fair, she had wanted more than kisses, too. She’d explained her intention to wait for her wedding night to Keith, but he had never accepted her stand. Still, Andrea had been certain of their love, imagining Keith would get the message and propose to her.

The blinders had fallen from her eyes the fateful night she had eagerly anticipated a marriage proposal and had instead received a business proposition from the love of her life. That had been the end of everything. They had finished college without ever speaking another word to each other. She had married Jerrold O’Rourke—her sweet, sweet Jerry—six years later, and according to rumor, Keith had married about a year after that. His marriage had ended in divorce, hers by the terrible finality of death.

And now, after more years than she cared to add up, Keith was making overtures again? No, she would have no part of it. She didn’t need or want his friendship, and she certainly could never want anything else from him. She would get through tonight and then retreat back into her own life. This foray into Keith’s world would never be repeated. Never!

Andrea finally reached the parking area with its dozens upon dozens of cars. Veering right, she located the limousines and realized, to her dismay, they all looked alike. Her limo had been white, but most of them were white and she hadn’t paid attention to exterior details.

Distraught and frowning, she stood there and wondered what to do next. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned and saw Keith coming toward her. Instead of resenting his presence, she felt relief. Maybe he could identify the right limousine.

“Something wrong?” Keith called out before reaching her. He’d seen nothing at all of Dorian, thank goodness, and hoped again that the slime had left the ball and gone back under his rock.

“All of these limousines look alike,” Andrea explained with a small frown.

Keith stopped next to her and studied the gleaming vehicles. “No, they don’t. The one you arrived in is third from the left.”

“It is?” Andrea peered at the one he’d named. To her it looked almost exactly like its neighbors, and she sighed. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” She started walking toward it. Keith kept stride—again—and she knew there was no shaking him tonight.

Keith opened the door of the limousine and peered inside. “I don’t see a handbag,” he said.

“Let me see.” Andrea tried not to make contact as she moved around him, but felt the brush of their bodies as she peered inside. The distraction of the warmth he was emanating and her determination to ignore it made it difficult to focus on the task at hand. “I don’t see it, either.”

Turning a bit, she sat on the seat and began checking under it. Sliding along the soft leather seat she finally exclaimed, “Here it is! It must have fallen…” To her dismay, when she looked toward Keith, he wasn’t patiently waiting at the door of the limousine, he was inside the car with her. “What on earth are you doing?” she demanded coldly.

“I was going to help you look for your bag.”

“Well, I found it, so put your transmission in reverse!”

“I’ve got a better idea.” He pulled the door shut and slid her way in one fluid movement. “The formal segment of the ball is going to get started in about ten minutes, but that’s long enough for former sweethearts to renew old acquaintances, don’t you agree?”

Two

To Andrea’s surprise, the closed door merely piqued her curiosity. Certainly there was no reason to fear Keith. Goodness knows, he’d never had a vicious or threatening bone in his body, and in spite of old resentments she couldn’t imagine him changing in that regard.

“Whatever could you be thinking?” she murmured.

Keith wasn’t a bit bashful. “There’s a lot on my mind tonight. For quite some time now. For certain since our last meeting.”

“Which was when?” There was false innocence in her voice because she recalled the last time they’d seen each other quite clearly. She had been dining with a very nice young woman, Rebecca Todman, who had come to her for advice over Rebecca’s abusive past. Andrea’s longtime, well-known connection with New Hope sometimes resulted in one-on-one discussions with distraught women seeking relief from emotional pain and scarring caused by abusive relationships.

At any rate, Andrea had listened to Rebecca’s story throughout most of the meal and was in the process of assuring her that she seemed to be on the road to healing herself when Keith and Robert Cole, the detective hired by Wescott Oil to investigate the murder of Eric Chambers, came into the restaurant. Andrea had seen their entrance but could not have imagined them joining her and Rebecca. Robert’s interest in Rebecca had been the big draw, not anything between her and Keith. She’d been only cool and distant with him, as usual, she recalled now, so whatever tidbit of association occurring that evening to cause “a lot on his mind” had completely escaped her notice.

“Surely you remember,” Keith said. “You were with Rebecca and…”

“Yes,” she said flatly, cutting him off.

In truth she had absolutely no desire to know what had happened that evening to reactivate his interest in her. The mere thought of Keith in her life again was stupefying. Why, they couldn’t be more different! He was wealthy beyond belief and while she was far from poverty—she had inherited from both of her parents and then her husband—her style of living would bore Keith silly. His would destroy her. Loud and boisterous friends, too much money and living in an ostentatious mansion? Oh no, she couldn’t even think of that sort of existence without shuddering.

The limousine’s interior lights had gone out when Keith closed the door, but the parking lot lights illuminated his face. Andrea looked straight into his eyes and asked, “Isn’t it time we returned to the clubhouse? If I remember correctly, dinner is to start promptly at eight. I don’t have a watch. What time is it?”

Keith obligingly checked his watch. “Yes, we have to go back, but in a minute. Andy—do you remember when I called you Andy?—for some time now when I’ve seen you something inside of me does flip-flops. I’ve been trying to understand it, without a whole lot of success. But since I have that same sensation tonight, it has to mean something. Any ideas?”

“One springs to mind,” she said dryly. “Flopping organs could be serious. I would contact my cardiologist and request an EKG if I were you.”

Keith grinned. “Ouch.”

“Then again, it could be gas. Come on, let’s go.”

Keith stared at her, admiring her grit and knowing he couldn’t let her get away with such brazen repartee at his expense. He moved quickly but smoothly, taking her by surprise, and ended up with his arms around her and his mouth on hers. He felt her shocked gasp on his lips but instantly forgot it within the hot whirlwind of emotions overwhelming him. Her mouth was incredible, soft and sensuous, and while she wasn’t exactly kissing him back, she wasn’t trying to scratch out his eyes, either.

He didn’t overdo it and broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Dear Andy,” he murmured softly. “Sweet as candy. We had the real thing once, or we almost did. Something tells me that this is our time.”

She was so outraged that she was trembling. “This is not our time! I don’t even know what you mean by that absurdity. Let go of me, Keith.”

“Let’s go inside and have some fun,” he said cheerfully, letting her go.

“I’m afraid your idea of fun and mine do not coincide.” Instead of waiting for him to get out through the door they both had used to gain entrance to the limousine, she opened the one on her side of the vehicle and exited as gracefully as she could manage, considering the explosive nature of her mood.

Keith hastened to join her. “When did you become a snob?” he asked.

Andrea stiffened and almost gave him no answer at all. How dare he judge her? But after a few seconds she had to defend herself. “I am not a snob,” she said icily.

“Sure you are. You think you’re superior to everyone here, especially me. You didn’t feel that way in college.”

“That was twenty years ago! I don’t know who or what I was in college, other than stupid!” She was referring, of course, to her relationship with him and hoping he got the message.

He did, but not precisely as she’d meant it. “It wasn’t twenty years ago, it was eighteen years ago, and we were both a little stupid in those days. But neither of us was a snob, Andy Pandy.”

“Please stop calling me those ridiculous names!”

“I like those names. Be honest. Didn’t you enjoy that kiss just a little?”

They had reached the patio, which was completely vacant. Everyone had gone into the ballroom for dinner. Andrea stopped at the door to send him a very poisonous look.

“You are my age, thirty-eight years old, and still you behave like an adolescent. No, Keith, I did not enjoy that kiss. Perhaps I liked being pawed in my youth, but my youth has long been spent. Apparently yours hasn’t.”

Swinging away, she opened the door for herself and went in. Shaking his head, Keith followed. “You act as though we’re ready for the rocking chairs. You sure don’t look like your nights should be spent a-rocking and a-reading. Hey, that’s good. You used to rock and roll, and now you rock and read.” He ducked his head to peer at her face. “Am I right or wrong?”

“What you are is incredibly vexing.”

“Vexing? I’m vexing? You know, I’ve seen that word in novels but I’ve never heard anyone actually use it before. Vexing Keith.” He chuckled. “Guess I’m a vexin’ Texan.”

“You’re also not nearly as clever as you think you are.”

“But I’m cute.”

Andrea rolled her eyes. “Puppies, kittens and small children are cute. You’re a middle-aged man, for pity’s sake. Get over yourself.”

“Middle-aged! Boy, you go right for the jugular, don’t you? Now, that hurt, Dandy Andy.”

“I hope so,” she said sweetly and then said no more; they had reached the entrance to the ballroom. She could see that it had been festively decorated and set up for dinner with numerous tables, which were filled with chatting, excited, laughing people. Later, after dinner and the ceremony of presenting her with the club’s donation, most of the tables would be removed to make room for dancing. Andrea planned to leave shortly thereafter, as soon as she could do so without appearing rude or ungrateful. She was, after all, representing New Hope, and she couldn’t act solely on her own behalf. Of course, if she had only herself to consider, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Keith offered his arm and said quietly, “Our table is across the room.”

Gritting her teeth, Andrea forced herself to take his arm and to smile. Crossing that large room on Keith Owens’s arm, with nearly every eye in the place on the two of them, was pure torture. She knew she shouldn’t let it bother her. After all, she was there for the charity presentation, but how people did love to talk! To whisper and speculate and imagine. Andrea could see them doing it as she and her self-appointed escort moved among the tables. Escort indeed. What nerve!

“Here we are,” Keith announced, stopping at a circular table with four couples and two vacant places. “I think you already know some of these people, but let’s make this easy. Starting on the left we have Will and Diana Bradford, then Rob and Rebecca Cole, Sebastian and Susan Wescott and finally Jason and Merry Windover. Everyone, this lovely lady is Andrea O’Rourke.”

Hellos were said, Andrea’s chair was pulled out and then she and Keith sat down. Conversations began, and Andrea participated graciously. In mere minutes the first course of the meal was served, and Andrea found herself relaxing with these friendly people. From bits and pieces of the table talk she overheard while eating, she gathered that all of the men were members of the Cattleman’s Club, which forced her to alter the hard-drinking, crude-talking, cigar-puffing image of the typical member of this club with which she’d arrived. These were intelligent, attractive people, every one of them, ranging in age from mid-twenties to early forties, and it occurred to Andrea that she could like them—some more than others, of course—if they weren’t such bosom buddies with Keith.

She fell silent, while enjoying a delicious salad made with tender greens, warm mushrooms and crunchy pecans, and thought about the kiss he’d ambushed her with in the limousine. She was glad, of course, that she hadn’t embarrassed herself by kissing him back. With his massive ego Keith would have taken even the slightest response from her as a green light and no telling what would have happened next.

Andrea suffered a sinking sensation over the scenario that idea conjured up. She knew exactly what would have happened if she had given Keith the encouragement he’d obviously hoped for. The problem with that relatively certain theory was the sensual ache it created in the pit of her stomach.

No! She would not ache for Keith Owens! For heaven’s sake, had she lost her mind tonight? She never thought about sex. She wasn’t looking for a man now, nor had she even considered another man since Jerry’s death! Lord love a duck, if you have to suddenly rediscover your libido, why pick Keith?

Right in the middle of that horrifying question she felt Keith’s leg press hers under the table. She moved her leg away from his and furtively reached under the tablecloth and pinched him on his nervy thigh, at the same time giving him a phony smile and saying in a low, for-his-ears-only voice, “Try that again and I’ll sue you for sexual harassment. There are eight witnesses around this table, and friends of yours or not, if I suddenly stood up and told you to keep your hands to yourself, they would testify on my behalf in court.”

“All I did was accidentally touch your leg with mine. You’re the one with the wandering hands. Who pinched whose thigh, you sneaky Pete?”

“Who kissed whom in the limousine, you Don Juan degenerate?”

“Oh, oh, the club photographer just snapped your picture. Could be one for the books, what with that accusing, vengeful expression on your pretty face.”

“You’re lying through your teeth. I know how to maintain a normal expression however furious my thoughts.”

“Learn that trick during your marriage?”

Andrea gasped. “How dare you? My marriage was…was wonderful!”

“Yeah,” Keith drawled. “So was mine. That’s why I’m divorced.”

“You know perfectly well my husband passed away. We never would have gotten divorced!”

Keith regretted his comment at once. He never should have wisecracked about Andrea’s marriage, not when he really knew nothing about it except that her husband had died. He just seemed to be more nervous around Andrea than he’d anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have implied anything.”

“No, you should not have!” Andrea turned away. In a second she sent him another resentful look. “And I am not a snob. You’re incredibly rude, which, when I recall the past, you always were.”

“Rude, vexing Keith,” he whispered with a dramatic sigh. He had to get over it, he knew, and forced himself to lighten up and ask, “How did you ever put up with me for so many years?”

Andrea decided they were both going too far. If it hadn’t been for the din of so many conversations plus background music, their dinner companions would already easily have overheard them. She didn’t want to cause more gossip, since she was positive it was already occurring all around their table. It was better just to ignore Keith as much as she could.

Dishes were cleared away for the next course and Andrea looked up to see Laura Edwards, a waitress from the Royal Diner, working at another table. Laura wasn’t a friend, but Andrea knew her from stopping into the diner occasionally to indulge in one of Manny, the cook’s, fabulous hamburgers. The diner itself was an assault on one’s senses with its red vinyl décor and smoke-stained walls and ceiling, but there was no question about Manny’s burgers being the best in town.

Something about Laura tonight gave Andrea pause. The woman looked pale, pinched and—was haunted the right word for that wary, frightened expression on Laura’s face? Or perhaps hunted was more appropriate. After a few moments of watching the waitress at work, and pondering her unusual demeanor, it occurred to Andrea that Laura looked exactly like the terrified women who came to New Hope’s shelter to escape abuse!

Andrea pushed back her chair. “Please excuse me,” she murmured to the table in general. Keith leaped up and the other men started to rise, also. Andrea smiled her thanks at them and walked toward the Ladies’ Lounge sign. As planned, she intercepted Laura on her way to the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes.

“Laura, hello,” she said. “I’d like to speak to you. Can you take a minute?”

“Oh, Mrs. O’Rourke,” Laura said in recognition. “It would have to be only a minute…we’re all real busy…but let me get rid of this tray first.”

“Of course. Can you meet me in the ladies’ lounge?”

“Employees aren’t supposed to use that facility, but I’ll tell the boss that you asked to see me about something. That should clear it.”

“Good. See you shortly.” Andrea continued on to the lounge and Laura disappeared into the kitchen. Andrea was touching up her lipstick in front of a long beveled mirror over a pink marble counter—pink marble was the last thing she might have expected to see anywhere within the confines of this otherwise blatantly male retreat—when the door opened and Laura slipped silently into the room.

Andrea turned from the mirror. “Thanks. Laura, I can see from the look in your eyes and on your face that something is seriously wrong. I’m sure you’re aware of my connection to New Hope and of the good the organization does for battered and abused women. You can talk to me, Laura. Nothing you say would ever be repeated, except perhaps to a counselor at the center, and only with your permission.”

Laura was visibly squirming, obviously taken by surprise. “It…it’s not that, Mrs. O’Rourke.”

“Call me Andrea. I know how hard it is to talk about certain troubles, Laura, but if you’re in an abusive relationship you really must get out of it. I can help. New Hope can help.”

Laura wouldn’t quite meet her eyes and something sighed within Andrea. It happened so often. Too many abused women simply couldn’t speak of their torment and suffering until it got too horrible to bear. Andrea couldn’t spot any bruises on Laura, but some men beat their women in places that were ordinarily covered by clothing. And then, too, emotional bruising wasn’t visible.

Andrea reached into her small handbag for a business card, which she put in Laura’s hand. “Please call me if you ever need to talk, Laura,” she said gently. “Along with New Hope’s number, my home number is on this card. Call anytime, day or night.”

“Thank you,” Laura said hoarsely, slipping the card into a pocket of her uniform. “I…I really have to get back to work.”

“I understand.” Andrea smiled. “I wish I knew what to say to put a smile on your face.”

“You’re a kind person.” Laura smiled a little before hurrying out.

Andrea sighed again. That wan, mirthless smile that Laura had attempted spoke volumes, but the subject matter could only be guessed at. Obviously the woman was miserably unhappy over something, but was that something a man? An abusive man?

Leaving the ladies’ lounge, Andrea returned to her table.

Three hours later Keith walked her to the waiting limousine. The check made out to New Hope Charity in Andrea’s purse was such a generous sum that she had let its many zeroes influence her normal good judgment and had stayed at the ball much longer than she’d intended. Yes, she had even danced, with Keith and with several other men, and she regretted playing the social butterfly now because Keith was insistent about seeing her home.

“I’ll just ride along, walk you to your door to make sure you get home safe and sound, and then leave.”

Keith had been honestly concerned about Dorian forcing that introduction to Andrea, although Dorian must have left immediately after. Keith had watched all evening for him and had also alerted his friends to Dorian’s presence and intrusion, so they’d been watching, as well. But just because he’d vanished from the ball didn’t lessen Keith’s concern about Andrea going home alone.

She, of course, only saw Keith’s insistence as more attention than she wanted from him. “Please,” she said. “I’m exhausted and I don’t need anyone walking me to my door. I’ve lived alone for five years. I go home by myself after dark all the time.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Nonsense.” Andrea extended her hand for a handshake. “Let’s say good-night here, and thank you again for a most generous donation.”

His dark eyes bored into her. “I’d rather kiss you than shake your hand.”

She sucked in a sudden sharp breath. “Don’t, Keith! You and I are not going to take up where we left off twenty years ago.”

“Eighteen years, and why aren’t we? Give me ten good reasons.”

“I’ll give you one. I don’t want to. Good night.” Andrea got into the limousine, the chauffeur closed the door and hurried around to the driver’s door, and they drove off. Andrea looked out the back window and saw Keith standing there, watching, just watching. He looked disappointed and…worried? Why on earth would he be worrying about her?

Turning around to face front, she put her head back and told herself that she didn’t care what was going on with him. They weren’t friends or lovers, merely very old acquaintances, and she had absolutely no desire to change the status quo. He had his world, she had hers, and it was best that they each stay within the boundaries they had been living within for many years. Why he would suddenly want to cross over into her world, or coax her into his after so long was beyond her.

She only knew she couldn’t let it happen.

Keith stood there until the limousine’s taillights were out of sight, then avoided the clubhouse and the valet, and walked to the parking lot to get his car for himself. It was much cooler at midnight than it had been earlier and the fresh night air felt good to him. Even so, he walked with his head down.

The night had not gone as well as he’d hoped. Dorian’s appearance had put everyone that knew the score on edge, of course, but even without that, Keith wasn’t satisfied with the evening—all due to Andrea’s adamant refusal to let down her guard with him. There was a wall around her that he hadn’t been able to breach with teasing good humor, open and admitted admiration or a pass he probably shouldn’t have made. It was odd how differently each of them saw the past. Possibly they’d been in love in college, but he couldn’t be sure. His head had been so full of ambitious dreams and he’d honestly believed Andrea had felt the same way. Even now Keith was positive they hadn’t been ready for the responsibilities of marriage back then; there were too many things to be done before taking that particular step.

Still, there had always been a serious connection between them, from their toddler sandbox days to that first experimental kiss and on through the rigors of high school. It was during the summer following high-school graduation, Keith recalled, that they had begun seeing each other as adults. And then in college they had gotten closer still. If it had been up to him they would have spent most of their free time in bed. Damn, he’d wanted her! Andrea was the one who’d kept things cool between them, but hadn’t her attitude been rather childish? After all, they had ended up in a horrific fight that had completely destroyed what they’d had, and, thinking about it now, Keith couldn’t help blaming Andrea’s stubborn insistence on chastity as the cause of their breakup.

Oh, well, he thought with a heavy sigh as he reached his car and got into it. Tearing apart the past was useless. He needed to concentrate on the present, on his campaign to prove Dorian’s guilt and on what he was going to do about Andrea now. They were completely separate issues, but each was seriously crucial to Keith’s peace of mind.

He simply was not going to accept Andrea’s avoidance any longer, that was all there was to it. Andy Vance O’Rourke was going to learn that he could be every bit as stubborn as she was, and what’s more, he was going to have fun in the process.

And so was she. Seeing her tonight, watching her so closely, sensing her withdrawal from anything that didn’t measure up to whatever high-handed rules she lived by had told him that she needed some fun in her life. Some real fun.

He was the guy to provide it, the guy to make her laugh and love and enjoy herself.

He knew it in his soul.

Andrea had an awful time sleeping that night, or what was left of it. She came wide awake at six the next morning, lay in her bed tired and resentful for an hour, then got up and stood under the shower until her head felt clearer.

Usually she ran in the morning. Rarely did a morning pass, in fact, that she didn’t run at least three miles. Her route took her from Pine Valley, Royal’s upscale community in which she and nearly everyone who could afford it had their home, to Royal Park, which had a well-used hiking trail completely surrounding it. A couple of turns around that trail and then the return trip to Pine Valley added up to three miles, a good workout.

It bothered Andrea that Keith lived in Pine Valley, too, although his mansion was on Millionaire’s Row, as that one particular area of Pine Valley was called by those in the know, and her house was quite some distance away. But she’d always known where he lived, even when she’d purchased her home, so she had eventually taken his presence—albeit mostly invisible—in stride.

Her house was lovely, small by Pine Valley standards, but very cozy and homey. It was a typical rancher but with lots of bells and whistles. After Jerry’s death she had sold the house they’d lived in during their marriage and bought this one. It would never do for a family, but it was perfect for one or two people. She had decorated it exactly to her liking, the very first time she’d been able to do that, and the interior colors were soft and conducive to peaceful relaxation.

This Sunday morning Andrea felt neither peaceful nor relaxed. She didn’t want to run, either. She was restless, barely able to sit still for more than a minute, but running held no appeal today, and these were very uncommon feelings for her to have. She knew who to blame for her unusual edginess.

How dared Keith kiss her last night? Memories of the entire evening seemed to bombard her from every direction.

It was noon before she felt halfway normal again, before she was calm enough to phone the officers of New Hope and relate the amount of the Texas Cattleman’s Club’s donation. They were, of course, overjoyed.

After that Andrea went back to bed, ignored several telephone calls that she let her voice mail pick up and spent a perfectly miserable afternoon switching channels on the large-screen television set in her bedroom.

It appeared that Keith Owens was succeeding in ruining her life, just as she’d feared would be the case if she were ever nice to him even one time.

Keith’s Sunday was almost as unproductive as Andrea’s, the main difference being the time he spent in searching the files in Eric Chambers’s computer. Keith had brought the computer home rather than to his company office, as he wanted the club members’ interest in this whole sad affair to remain as low-key as possible. That was the way the men of the club that were involved in saving lives and/or bringing criminals to justice worked—discreetly, strategically, invisibly.

The computer’s hard disk was laden with accounting files, understandable since Eric had been vice president of accounting at Wescott Oil. But there were numerous sub-files with far more information about clients of Wescott Oil than Keith thought necessary, indicating to him that Eric had been obsessive about detail. Nowhere, however, were there any notations or entries regarding the missing money. Considering Eric’s penchant for detail, Keith thought that strange.

After hours of searching, he opened Eric’s personal journal file and looked for hidden attachments. He could find nothing more than Rob had, but that didn’t satisfy Keith. He was positive that he had to be missing something, and he wasn’t giving up on finding it after only one session. Still, he turned off the computer, got to his feet and stretched his back.

For the rest of the evening he thought about the ball and Andrea. Just as he couldn’t give up on cracking Eric’s computer secrets, neither could he give up on Andrea just because she hadn’t encouraged his interest last night.

And he had an idea of what to do next to get her attention, too. He only hoped it would work.

Three

The following morning, a Monday, Andrea was back to normal except for one thing. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself for having wasted a beautiful day in June in maudlin self-denouncement and angry resentment of Keith. Ignoring church services and friends’ telephone calls were things she just didn’t do, and there were messages on her voice mail to remind her of yesterday’s outlandishly childish behavior.

She did her running with a determined, almost grim expression on that sunny Monday morning, even while enjoying the diamond-like sparkle of dew on grass and flowers, and the fresh air. Running was one of her greatest pleasures and she was not going to allow Keith Owens to destroy the contentment of her daily routines. There was no reason ever to see him again, except by the whims of chance. Should another occasion such as the charity ball arise she would simply refuse to participate.

Andrea loved Royal Park with its little lake, botanical garden and striking gazebo that had been the center of many Fourth of July celebrations. This was a park that was actually used, and even at this early hour she could see people walking, jogging or sitting on benches near the lake, some of them feeding the resident ducks.

After several turns around the park, Andrea headed for home. Sweaty, but feeling more at peace with herself, she entered her house and went straight to her shower. Twenty minutes later, she scanned the morning paper while eating fresh fruit and cold cereal for her breakfast. She tidied the kitchen, her bedroom and bathroom, then got dressed, choosing a simply styled blue-and-white cotton dress and flat shoes. Her hair was almost dry and she fluffed it slightly, applied makeup very sparingly, ignored perfume and cologne and decided she would do.

Taking up her workday purse, she located her car keys and used the connecting door between laundry and garage. Because she drove slowly with the windows down—very soon it would be much too hot to drive anywhere without the vehicle’s air conditioner going full blast—and enjoyed the activity of the town, it took her a good fifteen minutes to reach Kiddie Kingdom, the nursery school at which she taught. Like New Hope Charity, the nursery school was situated in a very old house that had once been quite charming. Now its high-ceilinged rooms were used as classrooms for preschool children, and its once elegant backyard was a playground with swing sets, a sturdy slide and a merry-go-round. Huge ancient oaks shaded the play area, so even on the hottest days youngsters could spend some time outdoors.

Andrea’s charges were three-and four-year-olds, wee boys and girls that she absolutely adored. Following college Andrea had taught fifth-and sixth-graders, and after her marriage she’d taken on some high-school classes, which had been quite an experience. Most teenage students, she had discovered, were bright, intelligent, witty and sweet, but some were so difficult and rude that Andrea had been forced to change her idealistic belief that no child was unteachable. She’d changed her tune after that and gone back to teaching youngsters. Now she couldn’t be happier with her position. She wasn’t working for the modest paycheck but because she loved children, and there was nothing more satisfying for her than watching them learn and knowing she was part of their expanding knowledge.

She and Jerry had both wanted children of their own, but none came along and they went in for testing. The tests revealed Jerry’s sterility, along with a list of other medical conditions, including a weakened heart. Jerry had always avoided doctors so diligently that he honestly hadn’t known that his aches and pains—everyone had ’em, so why stress over it? he’d always said with an infectious laugh—were signs of severe physical breakdown. But Jerry hadn’t changed his stubborn ways just because of a serious diagnosis. He had worked as hard as ever, played tennis like a wild man and done anything else he’d pleased regardless of doctors’ recommendations that he slow down and conduct both work and play at a less hectic pace.

Andrea had been more furious than grief-stricken when he had simply keeled over one day. He could have lived a much longer life—possibly into old age—had he listened to his doctors. But Jerry had been Jerry, and she’d loved him for his Irish wit, strength and temperament. No one had ever gotten away with telling him what to do, not his family, not the medical community, not her, even though Andrea knew he’d loved her with all his heart.

Finally she had tucked away her grief and built a life without him. She’d done a pretty good job of it, too, she felt. Until last Saturday night, that is.

No, she was not going to think of that again, she decided vehemently while entering her classroom and putting away her purse. The children were arriving, delivered to Kiddie Kingdom by parents or nannies.

“Good morning, Natalie,” she said to a tiny blond girl, who responded with a shy little smile.

And so it went, as did every weekday morning. Andrea greeted each child by name as he or she came in, and when everyone had arrived she began the day’s lessons. Teaching such young children was best accomplished in short segments, with songs and games interspersed among the lessons. Remarkably, some of these tots could already read. Others were just beginning to learn the alphabet. Andrea gave as much one-on-one attention to the children as she could squeeze into their three-hour school day, which to her seemed to fly by.

It was around ten-thirty when the door to her classroom opened and in walked Keith Owens, dressed in tan chinos and a casual, white, open-at-the-neck shirt. Andrea was so startled that she gaped at him with her mouth open. He smiled broadly, as though she shouldn’t be at all surprised to see him, walked to the back of the room and sat on one of the tiny chairs provided for the pupils. He looked ridiculous to Andrea, but worse than that in her eyes, every one of the children had turned around to stare at him. He looked back at them unabashedly, with a friendly sort of half grin, and Andrea soon began seeing smiles on their little faces.

Clearing her throat, clinging to composure through sheer will power, she walked to where he was sitting, bent forward and whispered, “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

“I’m just visiting, so don’t enroll me,” he said with a devilish twinkle in his eyes.

“How cute,” she said coldly. “You’re a distraction. Please leave,” she added, refusing to laugh at his feeble excuse for a joke.

“A distraction? For whom?”

“For the children! Get off that chair before you break it…and leave!”

“Nope.”

It occurred to her that he might have a child. She didn’t know everything about him, after all, and since she had never encouraged anyone to talk about him, it was possible that he and his ex-wife had children that she hadn’t heard about.

“Do you have a child to enroll?” she asked bluntly.

“No, do you?”

Her heart seemed to flip in her chest. She’d wanted kids so much, and teaching these adorable tots satisfied some of her need to nurture, but not all of it. At that moment she hated Keith more than she had when they’d fought and broken up in college.

“You know I don’t,” she whispered harshly.

Keith could tell he’d struck a nerve, which wasn’t his intention. He’d been hoping that she would laugh over his coming to Kiddie Kingdom and perching on a child-size chair. Didn’t Andrea laugh at anything anymore? “Sorry,” he murmured. “I’d like to watch the class for a while.”

“Even if your presence is a distraction for the children?”

“It’s bothering you a lot more than it is them, Teach,” he said softly. If he let her chase him off every time he appeared, he’d never get anywhere with her. And he wanted to, very much, even if he really didn’t comprehend why.

Andrea realized he wasn’t going to budge. In no position to show her anger, she pivoted on her heel and returned to the front of the classroom. She did her best to ignore Keith while reciting the alphabet with the class, reading a story out loud and passing out cartons of juice, but she was almost lethally aware of him every second.

At recess time she led the children out to the playground, and when she brought them inside again about twenty minutes later, Keith was gone.

It didn’t seem to matter. He had succeeded in turning her inside out once again, and when it was time to go home for the day, she felt totally drained. Andrea drove home with a very suspicious mist in her eyes, and she hated the possibility that she was crying over Keith Owens again. Hadn’t she cried enough tears because of him eighteen years ago?

Pulling herself together, she stopped at the bank and deposited the check in New Hope’s account, the usual routine with donations that she or other volunteers personally received. Tucking the receipt in her purse so she could later pass it to the charity’s accountant, she returned to her car. Underway again, her thoughts immediately returned to Keith’s unmitigated gall that morning.

That had been a one-time intrusion, hadn’t it?

Andrea’s breath nearly stopped. Surely he wouldn’t be back!

But what if he did come back? Maybe she should talk to the principal, but what on earth would she say? Keith Owens is visiting my classroom and driving me up the wall. Would you please do something about it?

Visitors were not unwelcome at Kiddie Kingdom. Besides, should principal Nancy Pringle take Andrea’s complaint seriously and talk to Keith the next time he showed up—if he came by again—he would have Nancy tittering and tee-heeing all over the place with his good looks and glib way of conversing with women. Andrea saw through him, but would Nancy? Oh, he would undoubtedly charm his way out of any accusation Andrea made against him, make no mistake.

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