"I didn't reject you! And I don't see how you can just instantly fall out of love with somebody you said you've loved for years." What was he doing? Was he trying to talk her into loving him?

"You're right. You can't." He felt a tiny spurt of hope, but it was quickly dashed as she went on. "Now I know that it hasn't been love. That needs to work two ways. What I've felt for you was infatuation, obsession. You've been my fatal attraction."

And now you are one boiled bunny, the Mighty Talk Show Host pointed out.

"I think you're giving up on us too easily," he heard himself saying.

"What are you talking about?"

"Our relationship."

"Ethan, we don't have a relationship."

"Yes, we do! How long have we known each other? Since-what, sixth grade?"

"I was in third grade. You were in fourth. Our classrooms were across the hall from each other."

He nodded, as if he'd known that, but the truth was, he didn't remember.

"You and Ricky Jenkins came plowing out of the door one day after school, and Ricky crashed into me." She began packing up their untouched food, her movements automatic. "I was carrying some books and a salt map of Mexico. I fell, the books went everywhere, Mexico cracked. I was so shy then. I hated for anyone to notice me, and, of course, I was mortified. Ricky ran right on, but you stopped and helped me pick everything up. When Ricky looked back and saw what you were doing, he yelled out, 'Don't touch her, Eth. You'll get cooties.' "

She looked over at him, and a small smile curled her lips. "I wanted to die when he said that, but you didn't pay any attention, even though some of the other boys had started to laugh. You took my arm and helped me get up, then you handed me my books and told me I could probably fix Mexico without too much trouble."

The clock on the screen had disappeared, and the second feature was about to begin. She folded her hands in her lap, as if that were the end of it, and he could feel her slipping away from him.

"Did you?"

"What?"

"Fix Mexico?"

She smiled. "I don't remember."

An ache filled him, a desire to make things better for the shy little girl Ricky Jenkins had knocked down. Ethan's hand seemed to have a will of its own as it slipped along the back of the seat and curved around the nape of her neck.

Her lips parted. Startled. The floodlights went out, plunging the lot into darkness.

He pushed the food sack out of the way, leaned forward, and kissed her. A pity kiss. A healing kiss. All better.

And then something inexplicable happened. As he felt those soft lips move beneath his own, the world split open and music exploded in his head, not Handel choruses or Puccini operas, but the raw shriek of dirty, sweaty, throbbing, feel-her-up, toss-her-down, come-on, come-on, Come On Baaaaby! rock 'n' roll.

His hands were all over her. Kneading her breasts, pulling at buttons, tugging at her bra clasp, delving into that sweet, plump flesh. And she wasn't resisting. Oh, no, she wasn't resisting at all. His lips found a small, puckered nipple offered up to him.

Her quick, efficient hands flew under his shirt, yanking it out of his neatly pressed jeans and playing feverish tracks on his back, while her breathy moans flamed his passion with fast, hot riffs.

He shoved his hand between her legs, cupping her through the denim. She pushed against him in a needy little bump and grind that took away his reason. He worked her zipper. She worked his.

The dirty backbeat of her tongue pulsed in his mouth, doing what he wanted to do. Had to do.

Skin. Soft, damp with perspiration. And then wetness. He sank into it with his fingers.

She had him in her hands, played a throbbing lick that pushed him to the edge of oblivion.

Where are You now? his mind screamed. Why aren't You telling me to stop? He waited for the Enforcer God, the Wise God, the Mother God, but he heard only silence.

"Stop," Kristy whispered.

His fingers were inside her body; her hand encircled him. "Stop," she said again.

But neither of them wanted to let the other go.

She shuddered, and he realized how close she was to falling over the edge. Her voice caught on a husky note. "You can't do this, Ethan."

Her dearness swept through him like a clean, cool breeze. She was worrying about him, as always. Never thinking about herself.

It had been a very long time, but he hadn't forgotten what to do. He drew her closer and moved his thumb… gentle circles. She gasped. He kissed her, and with all the tenderness in his heart, he let her fall.

Afterward, neither of them wanted to talk. They readjusted their clothes, moved apart, cleaned up his spilled Cherry Coke, pretended to watch the movie. He drove her home and wasn't surprised when she didn't ask him in, but as he opened the car door for her, he found himself inviting her to his sister-in-law's brunch the next day.

"No, thank you," she said politely.

"I'll pick you up a little before eleven."

"I won't be here."

"Yes," he replied firmly. "You will."

The phone rang as Rachel began to dry her hair from her morning shower. Gabe was in the backyard banging away at something, and Edward played on the front porch, so she wrapped the towel around her head and dashed to the kitchen to answer.

"May I speak with Rachel Snopes, please?" a woman said.

"This is Rachel Stone speaking."

A baby fussed in the background, and the woman's voice faded slightly. "It's all right, Rosie. I'm right here." Once again, she spoke directly into the receiver. "I'm sorry, Ms. Stone, but my daughter hasn't quite recovered from our car trip yesterday. We didn't get a chance to meet last night at the drive-in. I'm Jane Darlington Bonner, Cal's wife."

The woman's voice was businesslike, but not hostile. "Yes, Mrs. Bonner?"

"Please. Call me Jane. I'm having a family gathering in an hour or so. I apologize for the late notice-to be honest, I'm pretty much throwing the whole thing together at the last minute-but I'd like you and your son to come."

Rachel remembered Cal's visit to the snack shop yesterday afternoon. She'd been standing right there when he'd invited Gabe, and it would have been easy for him to include her in the invitation if he'd wanted to.

"Thank you, but it's probably not a good idea."

"You obviously met my husband yesterday." The lilt in her voice contained nothing but good humor.

"Yes."

"Come anyway."

Rachel smiled and felt herself warming to this woman she'd only seen in a magazine photograph. "It's not just your husband. Ethan's not too crazy about me, either."

"I know."

"And I very much doubt that Gabe wants me drawn any closer into his family circle. I think I'd better pass."

"I won't press, but I hope you change your mind. Cal and Ethan are two of the most pigheaded men on earth, but they mean well, and I'm dying to meet the notorious Widow Snopes."

Rachel found herself responding to the woman's gentle humor with a laugh. "Come up to the cottage anytime."

"I'll do that."

She had just hung up when Gabe walked in from the backyard. A trace of sawdust clung to his jeans, and he looked happier than he had in days.

She smiled at him. "What are you doing out there?"

"Building a little aviary. Tweety Bird's going to have to get acclimated to the outdoors before we can release him."

All this for one small, very common sparrow?

He walked over to the sink and turned on the water to wash his hands. "I asked Chip if he wanted to help, but he said no."

"Will you stop calling him that?"

"Not till he tells me to." He grabbed a paper towel and came over to give her a good-morning kiss. It was fleeting, but the casual intimacy made her remember last night's lovemaking. Now she laid her cheek against his chest and tried not to think about how soon this had to end.

His fingers captured a lock of her hair and looped it behind her ear. He kissed the place it had been, then stepped back. "We have to be at Cal and Jane's soon, and I still need to shower, so stop distracting me."

"We?"

"You know that I don't want you here alone."

Disappointment settled over her as she realized there was nothing personal in his invitation. He didn't want her drawn into his family; he was merely doing guard-dog duty. The bedroom was the only private place she occupied in Gabe's life, and he'd never promised her anything more.

"I don't think that's a good idea. I'd have a hard time eating with both your brothers shooting daggers at me."

"I haven't seen you run from a fight yet."

"Gabe, they hate my guts!"

"That's their problem. I have to go, and you're not staying here by yourself."

She concealed her hurt behind a smile. "All right. It might be fun to torture your odious brothers."

19

An hour later, they passed through black wrought-iron gates embellished with gold praying hands. Edward, who sat between Gabe and Rachel in the front seat of the truck, was subdued as he caught sight of the large white mansion. "Did I really live here, Mom?"

"You really did."

"It's big."

She started to say that it was ugly, too, but restrained herself. She tried not to make negative remarks to Edward about Dwayne and their life together.

Dr. Jane Darlington Bonner greeted them at the door, the baby in her arms and the spot of flour on her cheek making her look more like a Pillsbury Bake-off contestant than a world-renowned physicist. She had the classic good looks of someone who came from old money, but from a passing reference Gabe had made, Rachel knew her background was firmly middle-class. Her blond hair was pulled into a loose French braid, and she wore matching peach-colored shorts and top. Her stylish outfit made Rachel uncomfortably conscious of her own faded green-and-white-checked housedress and clunky black oxfords.