“Maybe you didn’t think our marriage was real, but I did,” Jack said.

Annie froze. “You just took off, leaving that stupid note. ‘When you come to your senses, you can join me.’ You’re supposed to be so good with women, Jack. Did you really think that was going to make me fly off to the ends of the earth to be with you?”

“You’re not like other women. You’re Annie.” Annie, his friend, who had stood beside him in a gaudy little wedding chapel and promised to be with him forever….

“I wasn’t expecting to leave the country practically the minute I got married! I wasn’t expecting to get married at all! Then you got that call. Everything happened too fast.”

“Look, Annie, we’ve got to get some things settled….”

“You want a divorce….”

“Divorce? I’m not here to ask you for a divorce. I’m here to claim the wedding night we never had.”

Dear Reader,

Happy New Year! Silhouette Intimate Moments is starting the year off with a bang—not to mention six great books. Why not begin with the latest of THE PROTECTORS, Beverly Barton’s miniseries about men no woman can resist? In Murdock’s Last Stand, a well-muscled mercenary meets his match in a woman who suddenly has him thinking of forever.

Alicia Scott returns with Marrying Mike… Again, an intense reunion story featuring a couple who are both police officers with old hurts to heal before their happy ending. Try Terese Ramin’s A Drive-By Wedding when you’re in the mood for suspense, an undercover agent hero, an irresistible child and a carjacked heroine who ends up glad to go along for the ride. Already known for her compelling storytelling abilities, Eileen Wilks lives up to her reputation with Midnight Promises, a marriage-of-convenience story unlike any other you’ve ever read. Virginia Kantra brings you the next of the irresistible MacNeills in The Comeback of Con MacNeill, and Kate Stevenson returns after a long time away, with Witness…and Wife?

All six books live up to Intimate Moments’ reputation for excitement and passion mixed together in just the right proportions, so I hope you enjoy them all.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

Midnight Promises
Eileen Wilks

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is for Bill and Martin, who serve the best

Key lime pie in the world.

Thanks for sharing Denver with me—

live long and prosper!

EILEEN WILKS

is a fifth-generation Texan. Her great-great-grandmother came to Texas in a covered wagon shortly after the end of the Civil War—excuse us, the War Between the States. But she’s not a full-blooded Texan. Right after another war, her Texan father fell for a Yankee woman. This obviously mismatched pair proceeded to travel to nine cities in three countries in the first twenty years of their marriage, raising two kids and innumerable dogs and cats along the way. For the next twenty years they stayed put, back home in Texas again—and still together.

Eileen figures her professional career matches her nomadic upbringing, since she’s tried everything from drafting to a brief stint as a ranch hand—raising two children and any number of cats and dogs along the way. Not until she started writing did she “stay put,” because that’s when she knew she’d come home. Readers can write to her at P.O. Box 4612, Midland, TX 79704-4612.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 1

“Did you hear the news, dear? Jack Merriman is in town.”

Annie didn’t actually sway. Her head went light and dizzy and the attic’s dusty air got stuck in her lungs, keeping her from drawing a breath, but her body didn’t move. That was fortunate, since only half of her was in the attic. The other half was in Mrs. Perez’s garage, with her size-five work boots planted on the highest rung of the stepladder.

“Jack is back?” she managed to say as soon as her lungs started working again. “Are you sure?”

Annie couldn’t see Mrs. Perez, who had been determined to stay in the garage while Annie worked so she could steady the stepladder with all ninety-five pounds of her aging body. It was an unnecessary caution. The ladder was sturdy, and Annie had a head for heights.

At least, normally she had a head for heights.

“Oh, yes,” the older woman said. “I heard it directly from Ida Hoffman when I went to the grocery store this morning.”

Ida had been the Merrimans’ housekeeper for thirty years. “It must be true, then.”

“He showed up yesterday afternoon without a word of warning. Ida said she nearly fell over when she opened the door and there he stood, grinning at her.”

“That sounds like Jack. Unpredictable.” Annie was pleased with herself. She didn’t sound angry or upset or afraid, though she felt all of that and more. How typical of Jack to show up without a word to her! “I’ll bet Ida was surprised.”

“That’s an understatement. She was thrilled, of course. She always did have a soft spot for that rascal.”

So what else was new? Women always liked Jack—all women, all ages.

“Ida was so excited about having Jack home. She’s looking forward to cooking for him. With that big old house standing empty ever since Sybil Merriman’s death, she hasn’t had much to do.”

Annie agreed without really listening, her attention trapped between the past and the present. She frowned at the dust motes sifting lazily down the band of sunshine admitted by the attic window. Jack was a lot like those dust motes—always in motion. Even when everything was smooth and peaceful, he couldn’t be still, couldn’t stay in one place. One little puff of wind and he was gone.

He’d proved that, hadn’t he? A little over two months ago, when he left her.

She wasn’t here to contemplate past follies, she reminded herself, and trained the beam from her high-powered torch on the wiring she’d just finished redoing. It looked fine. The damned beam was trembling, though. So was Annie’s hand. She scowled and shut the torch off. “All done here,” she said, and started down the ladder.

“I appreciate you coming out to fix this so promptly.” Annie’s former teacher held the ladder for her until Annie had her feet once more on the ground. “Give me a moment to find my checkbook, and I’ll pay you for your time. Though I still don’t understand why you’re doing handyman work instead of teaching.”

“Mrs. P—”

“Never mind.” She patted Annie’s shoulder. “I promised not to nag, and I won’t.”

While Mrs. Perez went in search of her checkbook, Annie made out her bill on the kitchen table. She was determined not to let herself start brooding over past mistakes or her current lack of direction. She’d done too much of that already. After years of working determinedly toward one goal, taking step after difficult step along the path she’d set for herself—a path she had chosen in part because of the woman whose wiring she had just fixed—it had been more than upsetting to learn she’d been wrong about her life’s work. It had shaken her world.

Which was how she’d ended up making the second big mistake of her life.

Annie shook her head. She was not going to think about Jack. She wasn’t going to speculate about why he was here, or what he intended to do. With Jack, she assured herself as she tore off the bill, speculation was pointless.

Mrs. Perez’s voice came to her from the back of the house. “Why do you suppose Jack Merriman is in town?”

Of course, it was hard to put him out of her mind when people insisted on talking about him. “Who knows? Jack’s reasons don’t always make sense to normal people.”

“He didn’t return for his aunt’s funeral.”

“He was in Borneo, for heaven’s sake. I’m sure he would have been here if he could have made it in time.” She bit her lip, annoyed at the way she’d automatically defended Jack—and that she’d given away her knowledge of his whereabouts.

“Here it is!” Mrs. Perez returned, waving her checkbook triumphantly. “Ida was hoping Jack might have decided to move home for good. He owns that house now, after all.”

“I imagine he’ll sell it. Jack doesn’t need a house here, not when his job takes him all over the world.” Which was just how he liked his life to be—in motion. Annie held out the bill. “Here you go, Mrs. P. You let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Mrs. Perez glanced at the bill, then fixed Annie with the steely look that had always made Annie confess to anything in high school. “This can’t be right.”

“Is it too high? Let me run the figures again.”

“Nonsense. You know very well you haven’t charged me enough.”

Annie also knew that Mrs. Perez’s husband had been in the hospital twice this year. She tried to look innocent. “Ah—senior citizens’ discount?”

Mrs. Perez charmed Annie by rolling her eyes. “Shall I tell all my age-disadvantaged friends that you will do their work for less than half the going rate, then?”

That might be a problem, given the current state of her bank account. “Age-disadvantaged?”

The old eyes twinkled. “Never mind. You’re a rascal, Annie, but a bighearted one.” She bent and wrote out the check. “Now, when you see that other rascal, you be sure and tell him I expect him to come visit me.” She cocked her head to one side, looking like a wrinkled sparrow. “You know, back when you and Jack were in high school I used to wonder if you two would make a match of it.”

Annie concentrated on tucking the check away neatly in a bank deposit pouch. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You were such good friends and you had so much in common, in spite of your differences…I suppose I thought you might be a good balance for each other. You’re so level-headed. Jack could use a touch of your caution.”

“Except that it usually worked the other way around,” Annie said dryly. “Just ask my brothers. Jack always could talk me into…” She flushed. That came too close to home. The last escapade Jack had talked her into had been a good deal more serious than the high school high jinks she and Jack and her brother Charlie had sometimes pulled.

Mrs. Perez looked at her over her glasses. “Perhaps you could use a touch of his impulsiveness, too.”

Definitely not. She’d proved how poorly acting on impulse worked for her. She started for the door. “Don’t let Ben hear you say that.”

Mrs. Perez followed, opening the door for her. “Ben means well, but brothers aren’t always realistic about their little sisters. And you’ve always possessed a surfeit of brothers.”

She grinned, liking the phrase. Since she had three older brothers, it fit all too well. “You do have a way with words, Mrs. P. How would you say that in Spanish?”

“Una plaga testosterone,” the older woman replied promptly.

A testosterone plague? Annie laughed and took her leave. She was still grinning as she climbed into her Bronco. The first thing she did was check her to-do list and cross off Mrs. P.’s job.

Jack was back.

There was no point in writing that down. She wasn’t going to forget, and nothing Jack Merriman was likely to do would fit neatly on any list.

Though it was only September, the air had a bite to it. She shrugged into her jacket so she could leave her window down. Annie liked to feel connected to the world around her—to the quiet bustle of her hometown, and to the wild and rugged peaks surrounding it. The air streaming in her window was spiced with pine and juniper, sharpened by a hint of ozone. Breathing in the familiar mingling of scents comforted her.

Whatever mistakes she might have made, coming home to Highpoint wasn’t one of them. The big city hadn’t been right. Not for her.

It was late afternoon. Thunderheads building to the north had darkened the sky, making the air dreamy with dusk. Annie took note of the storm that was headed their way and smiled. She had a fondness for storms.

As she turned onto Main, her cell phone rang. She crossed her fingers as she thumbed the connect button, hoping it was someone calling about work.

It wasn’t.

“What the hell is Jack Merriman doing back in town?” her oldest brother’s voice growled in her ear. “And why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Gosh, Ben, I wish you’d quit beating around the bush,” she said dryly. “Just come out and say what’s on your mind.”

That low, rumbling noise was his chuckle. “So, how was your day, Annie? Nice weather we’re having. What do you think of those Bulls? And why didn’t you tell me Jack was coming home?”

“Because I didn’t know. I just heard about it from Mrs. Perez.”

There was a moment of silence. “I guess you think I’m overreacting. But after all the trouble Jack dragged you and Charlie into, can you blame me for being edgy?”

“That depends on whether you called Charlie to lay down the law, too.”

“I don’t lay down the law. A little advice from your big brother—”

“Which tends to sound a whole lot like orders. I think I’ve mentioned this habit you have of thinking I’m still fifteen and in need of a curfew.” Annie had been ten when their parents were killed. Ben had been twenty-two. He’d quietly put his own life on hold in order to keep the family together, a sacrifice she was only beginning to understand. But he drove her crazy sometimes.

Which was why she hadn’t told him about Jack. Her conscience twinged. She changed the subject. “I’m going to swing by the grocery store on my way home. Is there anything you need? You do remember that it’s your turn to cook tonight, don’t you?”

Ben made his usual grumbling protest, and the familiar debate over who was cooking, who was cleaning up and who had the night off soothed her. It was almost like old times. Her second-oldest brother, Duncan, was in the Special Forces, so she rarely saw him. But her next-oldest brother, Charlie, was a long-haul truck driver, and when he was in town he lived with her and Ben in the old house where they’d all grown up.

“All right,” Ben conceded finally. “I’ll fix chili if you’ll pick up some jalapeño peppers. Get a half dozen.”

“Two.” Even without the fresh peppers, Ben’s chili could dissolve a spoon if you didn’t eat fast.

“All right, all right. Look, I’m sorry I jumped all over you earlier, half pint. I guess I did act as though you were still in school and trying to hide whatever you and Jack were up to.”

A sick lump formed in the pit of her stomach. “I’m used to it,” she said lightly. “Listen, I’d better go before this call eats up my entire earnings for the day.”

As soon as her brother said goodbye she disconnected, swallowing hard, but the sour taste of guilt didn’t go away. She’d lied to her brother. Of course, that was nothing new—she’d been lying to him, by omission if not out loud, for months now. But she’d also lied to Mrs. Perez. Shoot, she’d been trying to lie to herself.

Annie had a pretty good idea why Jack was in town. Much as she might try to deny it, she thought she knew what he wanted.

A divorce.

Day was sliding into dusk as the bruised-looking storm-clouds rolled in. On the McClains’ front porch, a man paced. He had an easy way of moving in spite of a slight limp, and the kind of smooth, rangy body that draws women’s eyes. His hair was short and mink brown, as dark as the clouds overhead.

As dark as the scowl on his face.

Pacing made Jack’s knee ache. He’d been on one plane or another for fourteen hours yesterday, followed by the drive here from Denver, and his stupid knee had stiffened up. He didn’t consider sitting down to wait for Annie to get home, though. After only one day in this blasted town, his feet were already itching to leave.

Highpoint wasn’t the only reason for his restlessness. He’d left a lot unresolved back in Borneo, and the need to find out who was responsible for that mess burned in him. He’d have to make a trip to Denver soon to see what he could do to track down the thief.

But he didn’t intend to leave without Annie. Not this time.

Fortunately he had plenty of room for pacing. The McClains’ front porch ran the entire length of the house. It was the sort of porch people used to sit on during long summer evenings, a place where a young boy might steal a kiss from his first girlfriend. Not that Jack had stolen any kisses here. Annie McClain had been the little sister he’d never had, a freckle-faced tagalong who had turned into a good friend.

Somewhere along the line, she had changed. Or he had.

There was a wooden porch swing at one end of the porch. It was painted a bright, incongruous turquoise. Annie’s doing, Jack thought, pausing. The hard line of his mouth softened. Annie loved bright colors. Not in any big, splashy way, of course. Annie didn’t do anything in a big, splashy way. Her love for vivid color had to sneak in under those cautious fences she’d built around her life, popping up as a turquoise porch swing or a pair of screaming red sneakers.

A marmalade-colored cat the size of a bear cub lazed on that porch swing. In the half hour Jack had been waiting, the sum total of the animal’s movement had consisted of an occasional twitch at the tip of its tail. The cat watched him pace with a certain lazy interest, much as an adult might keep an indulgent eye on a child’s energetic antics.

“So,” Jack said, sticking his hands in his back pockets, “you seem to belong here, big fellow. What time does Annie usually get home?”

“About now.”

The voice came from behind him. Jack turned around slowly. “Annie.”

She stood at the foot of the steps that led onto the porch, her arms wrapped tightly around two brown grocery bags as if their weight could keep her earthbound in the gusting wind. Now that she was here, standing in front of him, he didn’t know what to say. He just wanted to look at his old friend without words, without letting the needs of the present and hurts of the past crowd in.

Her hair was slightly longer than it had been the last time he’d seen her—long enough for her to pull into a ponytail that the wind was whipping around. It was the same soft, reddish brown as always, though. He liked it pulled back that way, liked the way it left her face bare to the world. Annie had a pretty face, with a soft curve to her cheeks and forehead, a stubborn chin and eyes as green as the Irish hills she’d never seen. At the moment, those eyes were bright with suspicion.

He stepped closer, looking down at her. She was such a little thing. He tended to forget that. Physically there wasn’t that much of Annie, yet she vibrated with so much energy it was easy to forget her actual size, as if she’d been given more life than such a slight body could contain without it spilling over onto those around her. “You’re looking good,” he said softly.

“Oh, sure. I always look my best in work clothes, with no makeup and my hair all over the place.”

He shook his head. “The proper response to a compliment is ‘thank you.”’

Suspicion vanished in a flash of humor. She chuckled. “Imagine you worrying about the proper response to anything.”

His eyebrows went up. “Believe it or not, I do have a few ideas about what’s proper. For one thing, I think a married woman ought to wear a wedding ring. Where’s yours?”

She bit her lip. “Have you told anyone about—about Vegas?”

“No. Once I realized you preferred to keep our marriage a deep, dark secret, I covered for you. Haven’t I always?”

“It usually worked the other way around,” she said dryly. “Look, we have to talk. I know that. But could we do it inside, out of the wind?”

Jack stepped aside, letting her come up on the porch. He didn’t offer to take her bags, though it was obviously awkward for her to juggle them long enough to get her key out and get the door opened. He didn’t offer because he was too damned angry. Still. Again. Jack was used to temper hitting fast, like a flash flood, then draining away completely. The sullen core of anger that had refused to leave him the past couple of months was new to him.

He didn’t like it. He followed her, limping slightly, through the living room and dining room and into the big, old-fashioned kitchen, lecturing himself silently. He’d get a lot farther by charming Annie than by fighting with her.

The kitchen distracted him. For the first time since he’d driven into town yesterday, he had a sense of homecoming. He’d spent a lot of hours in this room. “This hasn’t changed much. The floor is new, but it’s almost the same shade of green as the old one.”

Annie set the bags down on the scarred oak table. “The floor was new five years ago. You haven’t been here in a long time, Jack.”

“Has it been that long?” Strange, he thought, it didn’t seem like it, not with memories crowding up as close and friendly as puppies. He moved over to the table and automatically began helping her unload the groceries, just as he’d done a thousand times before at this house.

Annie stood on the other side of the grocery sack. Close enough for him to touch…if he’d thought his touch would be welcome. She was frowning. “You’re limping.”

“I had an accident a couple weeks ago, banged up my knee. Nothing serious.”

The quick flash of concern in her eyes pleased him. “What happened? You’re a good driver.”

Yes, he was—which was why the accident had been minor. It could have been a lot worse. He was going to have to tell her about that and a lot more, but not yet. Not yet. “Hey! Jalapeños.” He grinned as he took out the plastic bag holding two of the small, potent peppers. “Is Ben planning to fix some of his chili?”

“Yes.” She grabbed the milk and butter that he’d unloaded and carried them to the refrigerator.

“What are the chances of me getting an invitation to supper?” He hadn’t had any of Ben’s stomach-burning chili in a long time.

She glanced at him quickly over his shoulder. “Good grief, Jack, don’t you think that might be a little awkward under the circumstances?”

His brief fling with nostalgia thudded to an end. “I guess he doesn’t know we’re married.”

“No.”

“So why haven’t you told anyone about Vegas?” Was she ashamed of him? The idea added another layer to the anger he was trying to ignore.

“I—I didn’t know what to say. It’s not like we had a real marriage. I was here and you were thousands of miles away, in Timbuktu—”

“Borneo,” he said, temper lending a lash to the word.

“Whatever. You were off building things, and I was here. I didn’t know what to tell people. You never answered my letter.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Jack.” She sounded exasperated. “I’m not talking about that note I scribbled two weeks ago. I’m talking about the four-page letter I wrote after you left.”

“I answered that, too.” She’d written him four pages, all right—four pages about how confused she was, how she cared about him, but she didn’t want to leave everything she knew unless he could make a real commitment to her. Which had made about as much sense as skinny-dipping in January. He’d married her. How much more committed could a man get?

“A one-way plane ticket is not what I’d call an honest effort at communication,” she said dryly.

“You knew what that ticket meant. I wanted you to join me. But you were too busy hiding here in Highpoint, fixing people’s roofs and plumbing, to live up to your promises.” He moved closer. “Did you keep our marriage a secret because the marriage wasn’t real to you? So you would be free to date? I hear Toby Randall has been sniffing around lately.” Ida had mentioned that last night.

She rolled her eyes. “Get real. Toby Randall? He’s a nice guy, I suppose, but for heaven’s sake! His mother still irons his Jockey shorts.”

“She does, huh?” A smile tugged at his mouth in spite of his mood. Jack couldn’t believe Annie knew about the condition of the man’s underwear for the obvious reason. “How would you know that?”

“He told me. He wanted my advice on how to get her to quit. Honestly, Jack, you’re being ridiculous. I’ve always had a lot of guy friends, you know that. I can’t believe you thought I took my ring off because I wanted to fool around on you.” She turned away, getting very busy with unpacking the last of the groceries. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

He sighed. “Hell, Annie, I’m sorry. This is all new territory for me.” Brand-new. Until this morning, he would have sworn he’d never been jealous of a woman—not since the seventh grade, anyway, when Charlie tried to cut him out with Mary Wolfstedder. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling was jealousy. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

Dammit. Annie kept making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. “So where’s your ring?”

“Upstairs, in my jewelry box.” Apparently putting the groceries away was more important than talking to him, since she didn’t glance his way again as she bustled around the kitchen. “Why are you making such a big deal about it? You didn’t want to wear a ring yourself. You said you’d probably lose it, since you’d have to take it off whenever you were working. And it’s not like it was a real marriage, so—”

“Don’t.” His voice came out edgy. “Maybe you didn’t think our marriage was real, but I did.”

She froze, a can of beans clutched in one hand, her other hand reaching for the door to the pantry—then falling to her side. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell my brothers, at least, but I wanted to wait until I knew what you were going to do. With the way things were between us when you left… You just took off, leaving me that stupid note. ‘When you come to your senses, you can join me.’ Geez.”

She shook her head and vanished into the pantry. “You’re supposed to be so good with women, Jack. Did you really think that note was going to make me decide to fly off to the ends of the earth to be with you?”

“You’re not like other women. You’re Annie.” Annie, his friend, who had stood beside him in a gaudy little wedding chapel and promised to be with him forever…but forever had only lasted two hours. Long enough for him to be called out of the country on an emergency. Long enough for Annie to change her mind about him. “I was angry when I wrote that note. You refused to go with me.”

She came out of the pantry. “I wasn’t expecting to leave the country practically the minute I got married! Good grief, I wasn’t expecting to get married at all. I thought there would be time to adjust…but then you got that call. Everything happened so fast. Too fast. I’m not proud of the way I reacted, but if you hadn’t—oh, damn. I’m doing it again.” She grimaced. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to pick up our argument where we left off. We did each other enough damage that night.”

He remembered. More clearly than he wanted to, he remembered the ugly words he’d said as their argument had taken on a life of its own, and the words she had flung back at him. Words that had shocked her into silence and sent him down to the casino that night and halfway around the world the next morning. Words like liar and selfish and for God’s sake, grow up.

And the ones that had stuck to him for two months and seven days, a scab that refused to heal and peel away. “Marrying you was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell anyone, Annie? Because you didn’t want to admit what a terrible mistake you’d made?”

“I’ve been a coward, all right? Is that what you wanted to hear? I didn’t want to face everyone’s questions because I didn’t have any answers. At first I was waiting until you answered my letter, but you never did. The more time that passed, the harder it was to say anything.”

Jack rubbed his face. She was the one who hadn’t answered, not him. He’d sent her that ticket and she’d ignored it. “Let’s not argue about whether I answered your first letter or not. I’m here because of your second letter.”

She stared at him. “My second letter? You ignored the four-page letter I wrote you and came tearing back because I got mad about what some idiotic ex-girlfriend of yours did when she stopped taking her medication?”

He grabbed her shoulders to keep her from moving away. “You said you got an anonymous letter. That it threatened you. What did it say, exactly?”

“A bunch of nonsense about how I’d be sorry that I’d married you. For goodness’ sake, Jack, it wasn’t important.”

“Did you keep it?”

“Of course not.” She tried to shrug his hands off. “I can’t believe this. Is that letter the reason you’re here?”

“It’s one of the reasons. Look, Annie, we’ve got to get some things settled, and I’d just as soon do that before your brothers get home.”

The freckles that were scattered across that cute little nose stood out in stark contrast to her sudden pallor. “All right. All right, I know what you mean. You want a divorce. I won’t protest. I just hope we can handle it…quietly.”

“Divorce?” Anger rose, quick and hard, a thick snake wrapping its coils around him and squeezing. “I’m not here to ask you for a divorce, Annie. I’m here to claim the wedding night we never had.”

Chapter 2

Annie fell back a step. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“What’s so hard to understand? You keep saying our marriage wasn’t real. A wedding night ought to change your mind. And you owe me that much. You didn’t keep your other promises.”

Annie stared at the man she’d thought she knew as well as she knew anyone in this world. She didn’t recognize him.

Oh, she knew the face. Jack had one of those charmingly irregular faces made for crooked smiles and wicked suggestions, a collection of roughly matched features that somehow added up to be a whole that’s more appealing than the static gloss of standard good looks. But the look in his dark chocolate eyes turned that familiar landscape foreign and frightening. She’d never seen them so hard. Even on the terrible night when they’d hurled words at each other like grenades, his eyes had been hot with temper.

Now that anger seemed to have aged and hardened, twisting his thoughts into alien shapes.

“Oh, Jack,” she said sadly. “Is this what we’ve come to?”

“What do you mean? We’re talking, aren’t we? Working things out.” He moved closer. “You ought to be happy. From what I can tell, women are nuts about talking and working things out.”

“What is there to work out? You don’t even like me very much anymore.” And that was her fault. She’d known better than to give in to the attraction she’d always felt for Jack, because she knew Jack. He was a great friend—fun, funny and loyal. But he was hell on any woman foolish enough to care about him.

The alien anger vanished in a flash of surprise. “Of course I like you. You’re Annie.”

“You keep saying that as if my name were some sort of explanation!”

“Well, isn’t it? We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“We should have stayed friends. Only friends.”

“There’s no reason we can’t be friends and be married, too.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.” Probably he couldn’t understand, and because of that she had hurt him. She had put that calcified anger into his eyes, and that made her ache. “Jack, I want more than friendship from marriage.”

“It’s you who doesn’t understand.” Frustrated, he ran a hand over his hair. It was too short for his gesture to mess it up. “Look, if I’m willing to forgive you for running away, you ought to be willing to meet me halfway.”

His gesture distracted her…or maybe she just wasn’t ready to get into a discussion that she knew was going to hurt.

The last time she’d seen Jack, his hair had been long, shaggy, intriguingly streaked by the blistering sun of Paraguay. She’d touched those pretty streaks, tangling her fingers in his hair. But now it was too short to run her fingers through. Now the best she could do would be to pet it, stroke all that soft brown hair along the curve of his head….

Her lips tightened. She couldn’t afford those kind of thoughts.

“What’s wrong now?”

She said the first thing that came to mind. “You let the barber scalp you again.”

He gave her an irritated glance. “I’m trying to have a serious talk, here, Annie. Do you think we could save the comments on my appearance for later?”

“It’s not just your hair. You’re looking thin, too, and you’re limping. You need to take better care of yourself, Jack.”

He cocked his head to one side. “I know what you’re doing. The question is—do you?”

“I’m not doing anything except offering you a little advice.”

“You’re trying to go back to pretending you’re my sister. It won’t work, Annie. Not anymore. Not when I’ve held you in my arms and felt you turn to fire.”

Her face went hot and tight. She turned away. “I’m not going to go to bed with you.”

“Want to bet?”

Something dark and ominous in his voice made her whirl—but as fast as she moved, he was faster. He seized her shoulders and jerked her up against him, and she almost cried—at the harshness of his face, at the impossibly dear feeling of his body against hers. Her heart pounded. “Let go of me.”

His lip curled. “I don’t think so.”

He was looking at her mouth, and the throb of her pulse alarmed her more than the taunting arousal of his body. She tasted that dark rhythm in her throat. And elsewhere. “I don’t want this.”

“You know, I don’t think you ever lied to me before you married me.”

She’d been wrong. She had seen a hardness like this in Jack’s eyes before—when he was competing. Jack was easygoing most of the time, but there was a buried edge to him that surfaced when he set himself to win, and she had become a challenge to him. Something to be won.

“I’m going to kiss you, Annie.”

No, she thought. But she didn’t move. No, she stood there, stiff and trapped by his hands and the hammer of her pulse. Maybe if I let him kiss me, he can stop trying to win. Maybe then he’d let her go.

His head lowered—but he didn’t kiss her. Instead, the tip of his tongue painted one long, sweet sweep of temptation on her lower lip. She jerked her head back, but his hands on her shoulders tightened, holding her in place. Her breath hitched as he used his tongue to tickle along the line of her throat.

She pushed at his chest. “Dammit, Jack, don’t do this. Don’t play with me.”

“Who said I’m playing?” This time his mouth didn’t tease. It claimed. Hot, hard, ruthless, it asked nothing of her and demanded everything.

Heaven help her, she wanted to give him all that he demanded, and more.

There was heat, a rich current of heat urging her to let go of common sense and heed the clamor of her senses. There was taste, the heady taste of Jack, a shock of familiarity in spite of the time that had passed since she’d learned it on the night he married her. Just before he left her.

She shuddered and managed to wrench her head back. “Jack—” She shoved at his chest. He didn’t move. His body was hard and urgent against hers, his scent filling her nostrils until she wanted to howl with the unfairness of it all. “This isn’t right.”

“It’s right.” His eyes were hard, his voice soft. “Let me show you how right it can be with us, Annie.”

“What the hell is going on here?” a deep, gravelly voice demanded from behind her.

Annie closed her eyes. Great. The only thing worse than having her brother walk in on a clinch between her and Jack would be if Jack—

“Not much, Ben,” Jack said, his eyes never leaving Annie’s face. “I’m just saying hello to my wife.”

Yep. That was it. Now her day was complete.

The storm had passed, leaving the air still and cold, the sky crowded with stars, and the porch swing wet. Annie ignored the dampness seeping through the seat of her jeans and pushed gently with her feet, listening to the creak of the chain and trying not to think. There were no good thoughts to keep her company tonight, none at all.

But she did have company from the one member of her household who wasn’t upset with her. Twenty pounds of cat sprawled warmly across her lap. Samson’s version of offering comfort meant allowing her to minister to his pleasure by lifting his chin so she could scratch underneath. As she did, his inaudible purr vibrated beneath her fingertips.

Ben always said the animal was too blasted lazy to purr out loud.

She sighed. Her oldest brother was barely speaking to her. Charlie had actually yelled at her—an event almost as rare as for Samson to purr out loud—and Jack…well, if Jack didn’t exactly hate her, he sure didn’t like her very much right now. Everyone she cared about was angry and hurt, and she was to blame.

Not that Jack didn’t share some of that blame. He’d dropped his bombshell as casually as if he were talking about the weather, knowing full well what the effect would be. He’d done it that way on purpose, to get back at her, and that hurt. In all the years she’d known him, Jack had never set out to hurt her.

But everything was different now, wasn’t it?

Was taking her to bed supposed to pay her back, too? It would be a tidy sort of revenge, she supposed, to claim the wedding night she’d denied him and then be off to Timbuktu—this time without inviting her along for the ride.

Until that afternoon, Annie would have said Jack wasn’t capable of using sex as a weapon. Now she wasn’t sure.

“So what else is new?” she muttered at Samson. It had been so long since she’d been sure of anything that she’d forgotten what it felt like. Not since she quit her job and married her best friend. Of course, she hadn’t originally intended to marry Jack. At first she’d tried to get away from him. Then she’d decided to go to bed with him.

How had she managed to accomplish what she hadn’t set out to do, and failed at what she thought she wanted?

Jack, she thought. Jack was what had happened to her plans. Of course, they’d been pretty screwy to start with….

Denver, last July

Annie pulled the last of the books down and set Early Childhood Development in the box with the others. She straightened, grimacing. Her ribs were still sore. She wouldn’t be able to carry any of the boxes she was busy filling, but her brothers would be down in a couple of days to help.

She looked around at the clutter of boxes and clothes filling her formerly tidy apartment. So many dreams were being packed away along with her textbooks. But she was still going to teach, she assured herself. Just because Denver hadn’t worked out didn’t mean she couldn’t still be a teacher. It was all she’d ever wanted.

No, she thought. Be honest. Teaching wasn’t all she’d wanted. But it was an attainable goal, unlike the foolish longing that was sending her away. The doorbell rang. She threaded her way through the boxes to the door, wondering which of her friends from school had dropped by. She’d be glad of some company. Packing was a melancholy business.

But it was an old friend, not a new one, she opened the door to.

His hair was shaggy, his shirt was wrinkled and his jeans were old. He looked wonderful. She wished with all her heart he was still on the other side of the world. “Jack! I—I wasn’t expecting you. I didn’t think you were due back for another few weeks.” She’d been counting on that.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“Packing.” She turned away, going back inside. “As I’m sure you can see.” She hadn’t expected him to be angry. It disconcerted her.

“Dammit, Annie. Why didn’t you tell me?” He followed her into her apartment that had pleased her so much when she first moved in, the first place of her own she’d ever had. The complex had been brand-new then. After living in an old house all her life, followed by an old dorm while she was at college, she’d thought she would enjoy the newness. That was yet another thing she’d been wrong about. After a while the new apartment had seemed cold and impersonal instead of fresh and exciting.

She moved to an open box, and began wrapping a glass bowl in newspaper. “You weren’t here, Jack. How could I tell you?”

“Your brother managed. He called me the day before yesterday. I chewed him out for not calling me sooner and got here as quickly as I could.”

She stopped, her back to him. “Which brother? Charlie?”

“Of course. Ben doesn’t like me.” He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, studying her face intently. “Aw, hell. Annie.” He lifted a gentle hand to her cheek.

She managed not to flinch. The bruising had faded, and the swelling was mostly gone. But it was still tender. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t look it.” He sounded grim. “And if you were really okay, deep inside, you wouldn’t be moving back home. What happened?”

“I thought Charlie told you.” She moved away, unable to bear his scrutiny for long, and tucked the bowl into a box.

“He said you were beaten. Two weeks ago. By a couple of punks at your school.” The words came out flat, staccato. “And you’ve quit your job because of it and plan to move back to Highpoint.”

The attack wasn’t the only reason she’d decided to move home, but it had clarified some things for her. “That’s pretty much what happened, though the attack wasn’t the only reason I quit. I haven’t been happy here.”

“I know you haven’t been crazy about the large classes and all the paperwork, but I hate to see you chuck it all in. After all the years you worked to get your teaching certificate, it doesn’t make sense!”

“I’m not planning to give up teaching. I just don’t want to do it here. Not anymore.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still homesick.” He shook his head. “You’ve been away from that stupid town for years now, what with college and then your job here. You can’t still be pining for Highpoint.”

She felt a familiar pang. Jack would never understand how deep her roots went in the small town where she’d grown up, the town he’d been only too happy to leave after high school. He didn’t understand roots. “That’s part of it, too. But only part. I don’t like the big city, Jack. You know that. And…” She hesitated. But he was her friend. He would understand. “I just don’t feel safe here anymore.”

“I hate what happened to you. I really hate that it happened while I was gone. If I’d been here—”

“It still would have happened. But I’m okay now. A little sore still, but everything is mending. Only…you know how news reports always say, ‘the victim was treated and released from the hospital’? That’s what happened. Nothing broken, just a cracked rib and a lot of bruises. But I always thought that ‘treated and released’ made it sound as if no one was really hurt.” She tried to smile. “Wrong!”

He frowned. “Would you quit trying to be brave and plucky? It’s annoying the hell out of me.”

That surprised a laugh out of her—which she suspected was what he’d intended. They looked at each other for a moment in silence before he spoke again, his voice carefully level.

“Charlie said that the attack wasn’t sexual.”

“I wasn’t raped. I—oh, good grief.” Her eyes irritated her by filling with tears. For days after the attack she’d wanted nothing more than to have Jack there, holding her. But he’d been in Paraguay. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The doctor said it could have been a lot worse. He said I was l-lucky.”

“The doctor’s an idiot. No one needs that sort of luck. Come here.” He put his arm around her and urged her over to the couch, which was covered with neat piles of clothing she had yet to pack. He dumped one of piles on the floor.

“Jack! My clothes—”

“Never mind your clothes.” He tugged her down onto the couch beside him. “Annie, I’m so sorry. So terribly sorry.”

He just held her then, unspeaking, his body warm and hard and comforting. She rested her head on his shoulder and let his warmth soothe her, let herself cherish this moment. She’d needed this, needed it badly. Too badly. That—although she would never tell anyone—was the main reason she’d decided to leave Denver. She couldn’t afford to need Jack Merriman.

After a moment she made herself straighten. She didn’t pull away entirely, though. He still had one arm around her. His body was still warm and solid along her side. “I really am all right. I had no idea I was such a wimp until this happened.”

“You’re not a wimp.” There was a strange look in his eyes, one she didn’t recognize. “Can you tell me how it happened? What were you doing at the school in the summer?”

“Teaching summer school, of course. I’d stayed late grading papers, but it should have been okay. I mean, I’d done everything right.” That was what kept eating at her. She’d done everything right, and still she hadn’t been safe. “I was parked near the door in a well-lit area, and there were people around. Not a lot, but the kids in the theater group had been rehearsing and were leaving at the same time. The security guard was there. I thought I was okay. Even when the two of them came up to me, I thought I was safe enough.”

His mouth tightened. “There were two of them?”

She nodded. “One grabbed at my purse. I yelled at him. I was so mad…I should have just let him have the purse, but I was mad, not scared. I—I knew him. He was one of my students.”

Jack stroked her hair. “That made it worse, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” She blinked the sting out of her eyes. “He yelled back at me, called me filthy names. Then h-his friend slapped me. I wasn’t expecting that, but I still wasn’t scared, not really. I hit him back. I didn’t think. I just hit him, punched him right in the stomach. I hit him hard, too. But he was high on something. He didn’t feel it. It just made him more angry. And then they…they both started hitting me, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

“Where was the guard?” Jack’s voice was tight. “Where was the damned security guard while all this was happening?”

“He got there as fast as he could. He’d been walking some girls to their cars, but when I yelled he came running. The two of them—my assailants, to put it in police jargon—ran away before he got there. And then it was all over.” Except for the police reports, and the ‘treated and released’ part, and the bad dreams. She shivered, and Jack rubbed her shoulder.

He meant to comfort her. She knew that, but the slow, insidious warmth seeping into her had little to do with comfort, and everything to do with her reasons for leaving. She pulled back. “I really wasn’t badly hurt. I was sore all over and shook up, but that’s all.”

“You were beaten,” he said flatly, “and scared half out of your mind. You’re still scared, or you wouldn’t be running away like this.”

That stung. “I’m not running away. If I had been happy here in Denver, satisfied with my job, I wouldn’t let one unpleasant incident chase me off.”

He looked away. “The thing is, Annie, I’m going to miss you. It’s been nice, knowing you would be around when I was between jobs.”

Nice? She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.

Jack worked for a private, nonprofit organization headquartered in Denver. International Construction Aid built schools and clinics in developing nations all over the world. When Jack was between assignments he was in Denver, too. Though Annie was amazed now at her foolishness, that had actually been one of the reasons she’d chosen to live in the Mile-High City after getting her certification. She had thought it would ease her homesickness to have an old friend around part of the time.

And at first it had helped. Whenever she and Jack had gotten together to eat pizza and argue over what movie to rent, or to drive into the mountains for a day’s hiking, she hadn’t been homesick. But she’d begun to depend on those flying visits too much. Instead of easing her homesickness, the times she’d spent with him had left her feeling more alone than ever after he left.

And, of course, he’d been gone most of the time.

“Listen,” Jack said. “I can see why you want to leave Denver. But why go back to Highpoint, for God’s sake?” He gave her his most beguiling smile.

That smile put her on her guard. “I miss Highpoint.”

“But there are lots of small towns close to Denver where you could feel safe—Shawnee, Longmont, Boulder, Bennett—half a dozen others. I’ll bet some of them are crying out for teachers with your qualifications. If you lived nearby, it would still be easy for us to get together when I’m in the country.”

“Highpoint isn’t that far from Denver. We can get together if you’re willing to drive a little farther.” He wouldn’t do it, of course. Not often, anyway. Jack hated Highpoint as much as Annie loved it.

Abruptly he stood and started to pace. “You could try compromising a little. What about Colorado Springs? If you lived there you’d be able to see your brothers every weekend if you wanted, and it still would be simple for me to drive down for a visit.”

She watched him pace, exasperated. “Are you suggesting I should shape my life and my career around your dislike for our hometown?”

He stopped. That odd look was back in his eyes when they met hers, a strange hardness she wasn’t used to seeing on her old friend’s face. “No, I’m suggesting you shouldn’t shape your life around fear.”

Her heart jerked in her chest. “You think I’m running away. That I’m a silly, scared fool.”

“I don’t blame you for being frightened by what happened. Hell, my hands shook for half an hour after I heard. But running home isn’t the answer.”

“I’m not ‘running home.’ I like it in Highpoint, Jack. I like it better there than anywhere else I’ve been. Why wouldn’t I want to live there?”

“You’ve never really been anywhere, Annie. You’ve never cut the ties. You keep the past knotted up around you like a rope. It’s familiar, it’s comforting, and it’s keeping you from following your dreams.”

She shook her head. “I’m not giving up my dreams. I’ll still teach—”

“Forget about teaching. I’m not talking about that. What about travel? What about all those places you always wanted to see someday?”

“Travel is your dream, not mine.”

“You teach English as a Second Language because you’re fascinated by other places, other peoples.”

“I—you’re wrong. There’s a great demand for ESL teachers—it made sense to go where I’d be needed, that’s all.”

His lips thinned. He paced over to the box she’d just finished filling and started digging around in it.

She came to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I know they’re here somewhere.” He moved to another box, one she’d already sealed, and pulled the tape off.

“Stop that.” She moved over to him, shoving at his hand.

He ignored her, ripping open the box and grabbing a handful of the contents—her collection of old National Geographic magazines. “How many back issues do you have, Annie? How long have you been dreaming about faraway places?”

“Oh, good grief! Millions of people read National Geographic who don’t have some secret yen to take off for Tunisia!”

“But most of them weren’t abandoned by parents who preferred those faraway places to staying home and raising their kids. Parents who died in one of those faraway places.”

She froze. How could he? How could he throw that in her face? “My mother didn’t abandon us. And my father had to work.”

“You mother was gone almost as much as your father, from what Charlie has told me.”

“She felt that her place was with her husband, whenever possible,” she said stiffly. “She knew we’d be fine with Nana.” Hurt throbbed through her. She turned away. “I had no idea you were building some kind of a fantasy based on my reading material. There’s no deep, dark secret here, Jack. I like to read about distant places. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” He shook his head. “Maybe I’ve got some selfish reasons for not wanting you to move back to Highpoint, Annie. But not all of my reasons are selfish. I don’t want to see you bury yourself there.”

She turned around. He was close. Too close. He stood only a hand’s breadth away now, his bitter-chocolate eyes intent on her face, his long, perfect body near enough that she could feel the heat from it. Her heart began to pound out a strange, erratic beat. “You’re seeing me through the lens of your own compulsions, Jack. I’m not the one who feels trapped if I stay in one place for too long.”

“No, unfortunately you don’t feel trapped in Highpoint. You feel safe.”

“What’s wrong with feeling safe? What’s wrong with wanting to be around people who know me, people I’ve known all my life?”

“I hope there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be around people who know you.” His crooked grin was familiar. The look in his eyes wasn’t. “Since that’s one of the things I like best about you. You know me better than just about anyone. Annie, don’t go back to Highpoint. Come away with me, instead.”

“What? What did you say?”

“Come with me when I leave on my next job. You can teach. There will be plenty of people who want to learn, believe me, and I’ll take care of you. I can make you feel safe, Annie.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” Jack had never been overprotective the way her brothers were. He’d been the one who taught her rock climbing—he had insisted on it, in fact, showing her how planning and knowledge minimized the risks. Annie could handle almost anything if she knew what the risks were and could plan for them.

But you couldn’t control some risks. She licked her lips nervously. “You’re looking at me funny. I wish you’d quit it.”

His eyes drifted to her mouth. “Funny?” he said absently. “I guess so. I’ve always liked your mouth, Annie.”

“What?” Alarm had her heart jumping into her throat. She raised one hand to where her pulse throbbed, as if she could force her heart back where it belonged. “What are you talking about?”

“Your mouth. Maybe…” he murmured, and she had the feeling he was talking to himself, not her. “Maybe it’s time.” He started to lower his head.

She jerked hers back. “What are you doing?”

His grin flashed. “Isn’t it obvious? Here. I’ll show you.” And his mouth came down on hers.

The shock of it held her still for a moment too long. Long enough for the pleasure to catch her, a shimmering loop of pleasure that settled over her in one quick shiver. Long enough for a thrill to chase itself up and down her spine as his lips moved on hers…oh, such smooth and clever lips. She had wondered. For years she’d wondered about Jack’s kisses as much as she’d feared them, fighting the need and the curiosity with her too-complete knowledge of the man. One taste, and wonder overtook fear in a burst of heat. His hand was at her nape and his fingers were as clever as his mouth, drawing chills across her flesh, making her ache. It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

That thought made her turn her head away from his lazy, maddening mouth. “Jack, this is stupid. You don’t think of me this way—you know you don’t!”

Turning her head hadn’t saved her. It only left other places available to him. When his mouth skimmed along her cheek to the sensitive skin just under her jaw, she shivered. He chuckled, damn him. “Of course I’ve thought of you ‘this way’ from time to time. I’m a man.” He nibbled at her earlobe. “I just never let myself do anything about it before, because we’re friends.”

“Then why—oh, stop that!” She got herself together enough to push away the hand that had wandered up her side, nearly reaching her breast.

He obeyed, straightening to look at her. “You’re trying to leave me, Annie. I don’t want you to go.” His eyes were dark and unreadable—magician’s eyes, capable of raising both heat and hope in a woman who welcomed neither.

The hope was impossible. She knew that. The heat was all but irresistible. And why not? she thought suddenly. Why not let herself have this one time, this one memory? Surely being with Jack one time wouldn’t make the hurt that much worse later, when he was gone.

He raised one hand and deliberately cupped her breast, those magical eyes fixed on hers. Her breath caught and her eyes closed and she knew she was losing her mind. Giving herself to Jack would only make the pain worse. Much worse.

But maybe it would be worth it. Maybe…

When his mouth caught hers again, she wasn’t ready. How could she have been ready for the need in him, the hunger? It amazed her, swept her under, taking her to a dark, private place where sensation ruled and no hope seemed truly impossible. He wrapped himself around her—his arms, his scent, his hunger—and when he pulled her down with him, she went.

When she finally broke the kiss, they were tangled together on the floor. He’d kept most of his weight off of her, but her ribs ached dully. The pain was an insufficient distraction when Jack’s hand was beneath her sweater, hot and demanding on her breast.

“Don’t leave, Annie,” he murmured against her neck.

“Jack,” she gasped. “Jack, I’m not the one who will leave. You will. In a few weeks you’ll be off again, building something on the other side of the world.”

“So come with me.” He lifted his head. His eyes were bright with impulse and delight. “Why not? The timing is perfect, Annie. You’re at loose ends right now. You want to feel safe, and I want to make you safe. Why not come with me on my next job?”

“Why not?” The question was so foolish that her mind went blank for a moment. “Why not? Are you crazy? Do you really think I’m going to travel halfway around the world with no ring on my finger, no promises, nothing but a casual ‘why not?”’

“All right.” He sat up suddenly. He was grinning. “All right, that’s fair. We’ll get married first.”

Chapter 3

She had crumbled, Annie thought, giving the porch swing another desultory push. As humiliating as it might be, that was the truth. One hint that Jack needed her—one more long, passionate kiss—and all her good sense had been burned away. She had agreed to fly to Las Vegas with him that same night.

Another creak joined the one from the porch swing as the front door opened, spilling light across the darkness for a moment. The door closed again, renewing the darkness.

“You hiding out here, or holding a one-woman pity party?” Her next-oldest brother’s voice was deep, but not the bass rumble of Ben’s; Charlie was lighter than their oldest brother in every way.

“Neither one. I’m brooding over my sins.”

“Ben wants to know if you’ve got your jacket on. The wind’s starting to pick up again.”

She sighed. Ben might not be speaking to her, but he was still looking out for her in his own overbearing way. “Yes, I’m wearing a jacket. Have you come out here to yell at me some more?”

“Maybe.” He moved toward her, a lean, rangy shape in the darkness. “Scoot over.”

“It’s wet,” she warned him, sliding to one side.

“I’m tough. I can take it.” His weight added another creak to the quiet night as the wooden swing settled under him. “That was quite a bombshell Jack dropped.”

“Wasn’t it, though.” Jack hadn’t hung around to deal with the aftermath of his revelation. He’d given Annie one more quick kiss and announced that he’d be seeing her soon. Ben, who’d had that “pound now, talk later” look showing in his eyes, had grabbed Jack. Fortunately, Charlie had shown up then and had stepped between the other two men.

Jack had told Charlie to keep an eye on her, and left.

“So,” Charlie said. “Which of your sins are you brooding over?”

“The sin of silence.”

“Ah. You know, I think I understand why you didn’t tell us you’d married Jack. It’s a stupid reason, mind you, and I’m still mad. But I can understand.”

“Really?” Annie gave a small, mirthless laugh. “Tell me, then, because I don’t understand myself anymore.”

“You hate to make mistakes. Either marrying Jack was a mistake, in which case you didn’t want to tell anyone until you fixed it by getting divorced. Or letting him go was the mistake, and you didn’t know how to fix that.” He pushed off with his foot, and they swayed gently. “Which was it?”

“Both. Neither.”

“You still don’t know, huh? Okay. How about telling me how you ended up marrying Jack Merriman in the first place, then?” He slanted her a glance. “According to that lame excuse for an explanation you gave us, Jack showed up unexpectedly at your Denver apartment one afternoon, and that night the two of you flew to Vegas and got married. He got a call from his boss about an emergency with some project of his, you panicked, the two of you argued, and the next day he flew to some godforsaken corner of the world and you flew back to Denver, where you finished packing and then came home to Highpoint.”

“That about sums it up.”

“I think you’re leaving a few things out,” he said dryly. “I can picture Jack deciding to get married at five o’clock and tying the knot at midnight, but you aren’t exactly the impetuous type.”

“If you think that’s funny, try this—it was more or less my idea.”

He dragged his foot on the porch, stopping the swing. “You’re kidding.”

She shrugged. “I was the one who mentioned rings. I just didn’t expect him to jump on the idea.” Annie had always found it easier to talk to Charlie than to Ben, but she couldn’t imagine explaining exactly how the subject of marriage had come up—with Jack’s hand on her breast and her mouth wet from his. “I wasn’t myself. I was still shaken from the assault, I’d just turned in my resignation, and when Jack showed up I was packing.”

“That’s another thing I don’t understand. Why aren’t you teaching?”

How could she explain what she didn’t understand herself? “I am teaching. The evening classes at the community college are enough while I figure out what I want to do. I don’t want to make another mistake.”

“So…you were confused when Jack showed up, and being confused naturally made you propose?”

She had to smile. “Not exactly. I indulged myself with the idea of fate. The timing seemed so…I mean, Jack wasn’t supposed to be back in the country for another two or three weeks, but suddenly, on almost my last day in the city, there he was. And there I was, newly unemployed.” She shook her head. “Fate seemed like a reasonable explanation at the time.”

“Seems like you’re still leaving out something pretty important. Like your feelings, and why you would jump to the conclusion that Jack Merriman was your fate.”

“Sheer, unadulterated stupidity?”

“You were infatuated with him when you were fifteen.”

“I’m not fifteen anymore.”

“No, you’re old enough to know the difference between infatuation and love. Which is it you feel for Jack?”

She didn’t want to say it. Not to Charlie, not to herself. So she pushed against the wooden floor of the porch with her toes, getting the swing moving again, and didn’t answer directly. “Did I mention that we were married by an Elvis impersonator?”

Charlie gave a bark of laughter. “An Elvis impersonator? Was he wearing one of those glittery costumes?”

“Complete with a cape and jet-black hair falling in a little curl on his forehead. And a potbelly.”

“How did you wind up getting married by Elvis?”

“It was Jack’s idea, of course. We landed in Vegas about nine, and it took a while to get the license.” Long enough for Annie’s common sense to wake from the sensual daze caused by Jack’s kisses, but every time she’d been about to change her mind, he’d kissed her again. Jack had swept her to the altar—or in front of a caped Elvis—on a tide of hormones, humor and muddled misgivings. “We drove around a long time, arguing about where to do the deed. It was nearly midnight when he spotted the Elvis chapel and that was it for him—the perfect place to tie the knot.”

It had been so tacky. And so much fun. In spite of the nerves that had made her half-sick by the time they spoke their vows, she’d giggled when the King’s look-alike had drawled out the ceremony. “My favorite part was when ‘Elvis’ crooned, ‘Do you promise to love this man tender, love him true, in sickness and in health…”’ She grinned, remembering.

“But you stopped laughing at some point.”

Not long after the promises she’d made that midnight, in fact. Annie looked away, turning her face into the wind. The cold air made her eyes sting. “We were in the hotel elevator on our way up to the honeymoon suite when I found the courage to ask what I should have asked before we left Denver.”

“What was that?”

“I asked him if he loved me.” She closed her eyes. She could see the expression on his face as clearly as if it had happened only seconds ago. “He looked at me as if I’d suddenly started speaking Martian. Then he gave me one of those lopsided grins and said, ‘Sure. Of course I do.”’

That’s when Annie had known herself for a fool. It would have hurt less if he had been upset or angry, because then she would have known that the words meant something to him. Instead, it had been painfully obvious that he’d said what he thought she wanted to hear.

Charlie spoke quietly. “A man couldn’t ask for a better friend than Jack. But for a woman…well, he doesn’t mean to be hard on the women in his life, but he often is.” He paused. “Do you remember his senior prom? He had three dates that year.”

She sighed. “He ended up going with Ellen Baxter.”

“The weird thing is that none of them hated him afterward.”

“Weird, but not surprising.” Part of Jack’s charm was his kindness. He could be impulsive, thickheaded, careless enough to end up with three dates to the senior prom—yet he hated to 1 hurt a woman’s feelings. He’d taken Ellen because he’d known that the other two girls would be able to replace him easily—and they had. But Ellen had been new in town, and shy. Jack had worried aloud to Annie that Ellen would end up staying home if he didn’t take her. That was why he’d asked her, in spite of the fact that he was slightly overbooked for the occasion. He hadn’t treated Ellen like a pity date that night, either. He’d done everything he could to make her feel special.

Then he’d never asked her out again.

Annie doubted that Jack had any idea how much poor Ellen had hoped that he would want to see her again. And because she knew Jack, she couldn’t help wondering…had he had married Annie because he’d guessed how she felt about him? Because he’d felt sorry for her?

It was possible. Oh, yes, it was only too possible. You want to feel safe, he had said, and I want to make you safe.

Charlie stood. The swing groaned, swaying from the sudden loss of his weight. “You’ve gotten yourself in one hell of a mess, half pint. I don’t think you’ll be able to straighten it out until you figure out what you want.” His footsteps were quiet as he headed for the door.

“I know what I want. I just don’t think I can have it.”

Charlie’s voice was gentle. “What, then?”

“I want to have Jack back.” She swallowed the quick stab of pain. “I want things to be easy and comfortable between us the way they used to be. I want us to be friends again.”

“Then why are you still married to him? Seems like you would have changed that at some point in the last two months if you really wanted to just be friends.” Her brother opened the door without waiting for an answer. Light spilled onto the porch, then was swallowed up by the night once more as the door closed behind him.

It was the third thud that did it.

Normally Jack could sleep anywhere. He’d slept in shacks, sheds, hotels, tents and palaces; on feather beds, cots, couches and a pile of smelly hides tossed on the earthen floor of a herder’s hut. But he’d had trouble falling asleep last night.

Seeing Annie again had been part of the problem. Being in his aunt’s house was the rest of it. Memories that were gentled by daylight often came out to prowl at night, and he had felt trapped from the moment he’d lain down on the bed he’d slept in as a teenager. After tossing and turning, even getting up to pace a couple of times, he’d abandoned his old bedroom and gone downstairs with a pillow and a blanket.

Jack had never been allowed to lie down on the long sofa in the parlor; it was for sitting, his aunt had always said, and for company. He liked to think it was the novelty of stretching out there that had made it possible for him to finally fall asleep, rather than some lingering trace of adolescent rebellion.

Once he had dozed off, though, he’d slept like the dead. So the first series of knocks didn’t rouse him. He just worked the sound into his dream.

Whoever was there knocked again. This time he managed to get his eyes open and glance at the clock on the wall. Good God. It was barely 6:00 a.m. Who could be so blasted eager to see him at this hour?

But he didn’t respond until a single loud, forceful thud landed on the front door.

He flung back the blanket, dragged himself upright and limped to the entry hall.

There he zipped up his jeans, opened the door and frowned at the man who had been his friend since the sixth grade. “I figured it had to be either you or Ben. I hope you haven’t come here to beat me up. I’m not awake yet.”

“I haven’t decided if you need beating up or not. Here.” Charlie handed him a foam cup.

Belatedly Jack’s nose caught the scent of freshly brewed coffee. He took the cup, pulled off the plastic lid and stepped back, inhaling the aroma and watching warily as Charlie came inside. “You’re not going to punch me while I’m distracted by caffeine, are you?”

“Spoken like a man with a guilty conscience.” Charlie hadn’t been here as often as Jack had been at his house when they were younger, but he knew his way around. He headed for the living room, flipped on the light and glanced at the couch. “Camping out?”

“Something like that.” Jack sipped at his coffee and watched his friend.

Charlie had been a tall, lanky teen, a forward on the basketball team in high school. He’d added muscle to his inches as he got older, but he was still long and lean, standing three inches over Jack’s six feet. He didn’t look much like his sister. His hair was redder, and he had a craggy face with a nose that would have done a Roman emperor proud. “I’ve got some questions to ask you.”

“Figures.” Jack took another sip of coffee. It was hot and bitter and just might be strong enough to jump-start his brain. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any doughnuts to go with this coffee?”

“I ate them on the way here.”

Jack grimaced. “That figures, too.” He took another sip. He needed to be alert in case Charlie changed his mind about pounding him. “You might as well go ahead and ask whatever you came here to ask.”

“Did you marry Annie because she’s pregnant?”

Jack choked, coughed and managed to clear the coffee from his windpipe. “What kind of question is that?”

“A pretty obvious one, I’d say.” Charlie set his cup down on the coffee table and moved restlessly over to the window. “This marriage happened awfully damned quick.”

Jack sipped his coffee and watched Charlie pace as if the floor were covered in hot coals instead of bland beige carpet. Charlie was certainly uncomfortable with the idea of his little sister having had sex. “I don’t know why you woke me up to ask such a stupid question. Even you aren’t dumb enough to believe Annie would lie to you about something like that.”

“I, uh…I didn’t ask her.”

“You didn’t ask her. You thought your sister might be pregnant and had somehow forgotten to mention it, and you didn’t ask her.” Jack shook his head. “You’re an idiot, you know that? I hate to be the one to break this to you, Charlie, but Annie is twenty-six years old. I don’t think she’s a virgin anymore.”

Charlie stopped moving. “No, she’s married. To you. And if I find out that she had to get married—”

“Calm down. I didn’t touch her. Well, no, I did touch her, but not enough to get her pregnant.”

Charlie glowered at him. “And just when did this touching take place—before the wedding, or afterward?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said we’ve never been to bed together?”

“No. That would be downright weird. You are married.”

Jack took a healthy swallow of coffee. Obviously he needed more caffeine, or he was going to say something stupid and mess up an important friendship. Jack didn’t fool himself that he came first with Charlie—or anyone else, for that matter. Including Annie. With the McClains, family came first. Always. And however many hours Jack might have spent in the McClain kitchen when he was younger, he wasn’t really family.

Though he was Charlie’s brother-in-law now. Funny. That hadn’t occurred to him before. He liked the idea.

“Okay, so I’m acting like an idiot.” Charlie scraped his hair back from his face. “I didn’t really think you’d gotten her pregnant. You’ve got your flaws, but you wouldn’t have left her to handle things alone if she’d been carrying your child, no matter what kind of emergency came up with your job.”

“Thanks for that much.”

“She might have gotten pregnant by someone else, though. Someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t marry her. I thought maybe she told you about it, and you married her to give her child a father.”

A peculiar feeling stole over Jack when he thought about Annie being pregnant by another man. It wasn’t jealousy. At least, he didn’t think it was, since it was nothing like the nasty twist of anger he’d felt when he’d heard that Annie might be interested in Toby Randall. No, this was a quiet feeling—quiet, but not gentle. Not soft. A stinging gray feeling, like an acid fog. “Have you taken to watching soap operas? That’s the screwiest idea you’ve come up with yet.”

“But it’s just the sort of thing you would do, Jack. Or are you going to tell me that if Annie were pregnant and unmarried you wouldn’t offer to marry her?”

“Well…” Jack rubbed a hand over his face. Charlie was right. He’d do just about anything for Annie. “That wasn’t how it happened, though. Annie wasn’t—isn’t—pregnant.” And his reasons for marrying her had been wholly selfish.

“Yeah? So why did you two get married, then?”

Jack didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to lie to Charlie. He’d already lied to Charlie’s sister, and that had felt bad enough.

When the inspiration to get married had first hit Jack, it hadn’t occurred to him that Annie might want the empty trappings of romance slicked over the very real friendship they shared and the passion they’d just discovered. He’d thought she was too sensible to buy into all those pleasant lies about love that so many women wasted their lives on. On their wedding night he’d found out he’d been wrong.

They had been alone in the elevator, on their way up to the honeymoon suite, and Jack had been skimming his mouth across hers, teasing himself with a taste of the feast waiting for them. All of a sudden she’d pulled back, her eyes serious and scared. She’d asked him if he loved her.

Jack had felt sucker punched. He’d taken a couple of seconds too long to answer. Oh, he’d managed to smile and say what she wanted to hear, but his hesitation had hurt her. He hated that as much as he’d hated lying to her.

“Well?” Charlie demanded. “Is it that hard to come up with a reason?”

“I was hoping to think of a way to phrase it that wouldn’t make you want to punch me.” Jack rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. It felt odd. He was used to having hair there. Annie had accused him of having let the barber scalp him. He smiled. At least she noticed him. She didn’t want to admit it, and she would have liked to push him back into his not-quite-a-brother place in her life, but she did notice him. And not as a brother.

Charlie eyed him for a moment, then shook his head. “Maybe I don’t want to know. If it has something to do with sex—”

“You don’t want to know.”

Charlie scowled and moved over to where he’d left his coffee. He took a sip, grimaced and set it down. “Damned stuff is cold.”

“Serves you right for eating all the doughnuts. Why did you come hassle me so early, anyway?”

“I’ve got a load of pipe that’s supposed to be in California tomorrow and I wanted to talk to you before I hit the road. Which reminds me—why did you tell me to keep an eye on Annie until I talked to you?”

Jack frowned. “Damn. I wish you didn’t have to leave town right now.”

“Curiouser and curiouser. If you’re looking for me to play matchmaker—”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Jack ran a hand over the top of his head. No way to lead into this gradually, he decided. “I think someone tried to kill me. There’s a chance that Annie is in danger, too.”

The sun was up, but Annie wasn’t. Normally she was out of bed as soon as she was awake, which was always early. But today she didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to sing with the radio or talk to her brothers. She didn’t want to face the decisions this day was likely to bring. Most of all, she didn’t want to face Jack.

Pulling the covers over her head and staying in bed for the next few weeks sounded like a great plan, she thought wistfully as she watched dawn chase the shadows from her room. But she’d played the coward too long already. With a sigh, she threw back the covers and left the warmth of her bed.

Charlie’s car was gone, she noticed when she glanced out the window, but Ben’s pickup was still in the driveway. No doubt she had an uncomfortable discussion waiting for her.

Annie showered quickly and dressed in jeans and an old beige sweatshirt. To bolster her spirits she pulled on yellow socks—yellow turned up on high, a blindingly cheerful color she hoped would give her a visual punch of optimism whenever she glanced at her feet. Then she gritted her teeth and went downstairs.

Her big brother sat at the kitchen table, scowling at his coffee.

Ben was the oldest, the largest and the darkest of her brothers, both in appearance and outlook. He was a seriously stubborn man with a passion for the outdoors, a quick temper and a huge heart. Some people were intimidated by him. Many underestimated him, thinking a man as big and gruff as he was had to be all brawn and no brain.

Annie knew better. She mentally girded up her loins for battle and stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said brightly, heading for the coffeepot. “Why aren’t you down at the yard making your secretary’s life miserable, or out browbeating a flunky or two at one of the sites? It’s nearly eight o’clock.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Maybe you could yell at me instead. It usually makes you feel better.” Ben’s temper didn’t bother her. His brooding did. It meant he was blaming himself for something.

“You’re not having breakfast?” he said when she sat down across from him.

She shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”

He studied her over the rim of his cup as he sipped his coffee. “One of my crew on the Baker job called in sick. If you’re not already booked up, I could use you. I want to get the drywall finished today.”

Was that all he’d wanted to talk about? “Sure,” she said, relieved, though hanging Sheetrock was one of her least favorite construction jobs. The only one she liked less was laying insulation. She always itched for days after handling that, no matter how careful she was. With Sheetrock she just sneezed a lot from the dust.

“All right, then.” He set his cup down, squaring his shoulders as if he were about to heft some unpleasant burden. “Annie, I think you should move out.”

Hurt jolted through her. Her hand jerked, and coffee spilled. “I—I thought things were working out okay, but if there’s a problem…” Her voice twisted into silence before she could get control of it. “If that’s what you want, then, sure. I’ll move out. It may take me a little while to find a place…you know what that’s like around here, especially with skiing season coming up, but—”

“Hold on. I didn’t mean it that way. The house is yours as much as it’s mine. Hell, I’m not doing this right.” He scowled. It was the expression Ben used for almost any strong emotion. “I’ve been selfish. I like having you around, but it isn’t right. You should be living your own life.”

“But I am! Maybe you try to interfere with that from time to time, but I don’t let you. So there’s no problem.”

He shook his head. “You’re married, but you’re living at home with your brothers. That doesn’t sound to me like living your own life.”

Uh-oh. She’d bumped into one of Ben’s walls. He was usually fairly reasonable in a pigheaded sort of way, but there were a few subjects on which he was stone-hard, granite-solid. Rigid, in other words.

Marriage was one of them. “I realize my situation is unusual, Ben, but this marriage isn’t—” Real, she almost said, but she remembered the way Jack had reacted when she’d said that yesterday. “This isn’t exactly a normal marriage. We haven’t lived together. We haven’t…” No, she didn’t want to tell him what else she and Jack hadn’t done. “It’s complicated.”

“Either you’re married or you aren’t. If you are, your place is with your husband.”

That had certainly been what their mother had believed. She’d followed her husband all over the world, leaving her children with their grandmother—until she’d left them in the most permanent way possible. Annie’s mouth tightened. “This isn’t the nineteenth century, and even you aren’t that black-and-white. There are all sorts of reasons that a woman might not stay with her husband…infidelity, cruelty, abandonment—”

Ben’s hand fisted on the table. “If he’s hit you—”

“No. Oh, no! I didn’t mean that! Good grief, Ben, you know Jack. You might not like him, but you know he would never hit me. Or any other woman.”

“Was he unfaithful?”

She opened her mouth—then closed it again. She had no idea. It was something she’d tried not to think about. Logically she knew that if Jack hadn’t been faithful to their hasty, unconsummated marriage, she couldn’t blame him. All they had really shared was a few kisses and some impulsive promises spoken in front of an Elvis impersonator. But she felt absolutely wild at the thought of Jack being with another woman.

Annie licked her lips and answered with careful honesty. “Not as far as I know.”

“Then you should be with him. Not here.” He leaned back in his chair. “And I don’t dislike Jack. It may take me a while to get used to the idea of having him as a brother-in-law, but I don’t dislike him.”

“You hit the ceiling yesterday when you heard he was in town.”

“That was a knee-jerk reaction. I thought you were keeping something from me the way you used to when you and Jack and Charlie were up to something.” His eyebrows drew down. “As it turned out, I was right.”

The ringing of the doorbell was a welcome interruption. “I’ll get it,” she said quickly, pushing her chair back and standing.

“Wait a minute.” Ben’s hand clamped around her wrist. “You should know that I’m going to send a notice to the paper today, announcing your marriage.”

“You’re what?”

“You heard me.”

“It isn’t up to you to make a decision like that!”

“Now that I know that you’re married, it would be lying for me to pretend otherwise. I don’t like lies. A notice to the paper is the simplest way to handle things.”

“It must be nice to be so perfect,” she said bitterly. “So sure of yourself and what’s right.”

“I’m not sure of much this morning. Obviously I made some major mistakes when you were younger, if you didn’t think you could tell me that you’d gotten married.”

More than lectures, more than scowls or yelling, she hated it when Ben started blaming himself for her mistakes. That was one of the reasons she hated making mistakes so much.

The doorbell rang again. She jerked her hand free, hurried through the living room to the front door, flung it open…and groaned.

Jack’s grin came slow and packed with wicked suggestions. “Good morning.”

She slammed the door shut.

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