Ceci’s brother stared at him for a long, hateful moment, then lowered his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Andrew held him a second more then released his grip and stepped back, standing alert and balanced on the balls of his feet as Charles slowly twitched at his clothing and gathered the shreds of his composure.

“We’re done now.” Andy turned and walked to the door. He put his hand on the knob before turning and facing his adversary. “Asshole.” He opened the door, walked through it, and closed it behind him firmly. Ceci was just coming back and she headed his way, a concerned look on her face. “Ready to see yer pictures?”

“Sure.” Cecilia glanced at the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yer brother and I just cleared the air a little,” Andy reassured her.

“C’mon.”

She tucked her hand around his arm and paced lightly at his side, watching the signs of rage slowly fade. “Andy?”

“Mmm?” His eyes blinked, then met hers.

“You didn’t break anything, did you?”

His lips quirked faintly. “No, ma’am, I did not.”

Ceci exhaled. “All right. Come on. I think they’ve got those little stuffed chicken things you like on the buffet.”

Andy relaxed, releasing the last of his anger out to the ether. No sense in holding it, anyway. He gazed fondly down at his wife. “You looking to spoil me, pretty lady?”

He got a much missed elfin smile for that. “You betcha.” Ceci steered him towards a cluster of people around a large canvas. “See what you think of this one.”

Several faces turned as they came up, staring curiously at Andrew.

“Cec? Who’s your friend?” one of the art gallery’s directors called out, too far to read the nameplate on Andy’s uniform.

“This is my husband,” Cecilia answered, enjoying the surprised looks. “Andrew Roberts.” She started introductions as the crowd closed in, chattering in question.

KERRY STOOD, SOBERLY regarding her reflection in the mirror.

She was dressed in her underwear and laid out neatly on the counter was her little leather outfit, draping saucily over the edge in a fall of slinky hide.

“Well.” She met the sea green eyes gazing back at her. “I could pretend I was going as Pocahontas.” She paused. “The blonde hair’s a little off, but I think I may have a feather around here someehere.”

With a sigh, she finally picked up the skirt and wrapped it around 202 Melissa Good her waist, adjusting the fit with the convenient Velcro closures. “What on earth did they do before Velcro, Chino? I can’t imagine it.”

“Grufw.” The Labrador was curled up on the bed, watching her with interest, tired out after a long afternoon’s run Kerry had just finished up with.

“It’s pretty, huh?” She fingered the leather belt, intricately tooled and stained in several colors, with a knotwork design. The skirt itself was a very soft rusty tan leather, so thin it draped over her hips and thighs almost like cloth. “O…kay.” Kerry picked up the top next and studied it.

“Hmm. A leather sports bra. This is going to be different.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she removed her regular bra and slipped the leather one on. She fiddled with the fastenings in back then brought the straps around to her front and adjusted them. With faint trepidation, she lifted her eyes to the reflection and chewed her lip at what she saw.

God, there was a lot of her showing. She spared a moment of intense gratitude for the months in the gym, as she twisted her body a little and watched the muscles move just under her tan. “See what she meant about needing to work out to wear this one,” she murmured. “What do you think, Chino?”

“Gorgeous.”

Kerry’s brain almost exploded, then she realized the voice was Dar’s and coming from the door. “Jesus.” She covered her eyes as a laugh escaped. “I thought the dog answered me.”

“Woof,” Dar replied, easing the rest of the way into the room, still dressed in her workout shorts and cutoff shirt. “Mmm. I like it.” She studied Kerry approvingly. “You definitely look natural in that.”

“Natural?” Kerry put her hands on her hips. “Dar, it’s a leather bikini. Don’t tell me I look natural in a leather bikini, please, because my brain will dribble out my ears just at the thought.”

“But you do,” Dar objected gently. “Stand up straight.”

With a sigh, Kerry did so, letting her hands drop to her thighs. In reflex, she lifted her head and chin as Dar adjusted the straps on her top, the feel of the light fingertips on her bare back striking a chord of faint familiarity. “I look like a fake Native American.”

“Nah.” Dar pulled her pale hair back and held it. “How ’bout we put a leather holder on this and you can put on some of that old jewelry in Aunt May’s trunk. You’ll look great, Ker. Honest.” She peeked over Kerry’s shoulder and examined the mirror’s reflection, as Kerry lifted her eyes and met her gaze in it. “What’s wrong?”

Kerry’s lips tightened, then relaxed. “Sometimes I look in this mirror and I have no idea who that person looking back at me is.” She gave a slight shake of her head and lifted her hands a trifle, then let them drop.

“I never imagined myself like this.”

“Does it bother you?” Dar asked, hesitantly. “You know, Kerry. Just because I do the gym and all that, doesn’t mean you have to.”

“No, I like it.” She gave Dar a gentle smile. “It’s just that I’ve never Eye of the Storm 203

felt good about myself before and it’s a little strange getting used to.” She tilted her head back. “You’re wonderful for my ego, you know that?”

“Glad to be of service.” Dar chuckled in relief.

“Speaking of egos, it’s your turn to get dressed.” Kerry grinned. “I’m going to finish up getting ready.”

“Okay.” Dar kissed her bare shoulder. “I’m going to grab a shower, then see if I can squeeze into that vest. Never mind those jeans you dug up from the closet.” She gave Kerry a pat on the butt and ambled out, followed by Chino.

Kerry shook her head, and turned her attention back to the mirror.

“You know something, Kerrison? For someone once voted most likely to become a republican governor, you didn’t turn out so bad.”

DAR TOUSLED HER hair semi dry, then trudged out into her bedroom wrapped in a towel. Now that it was the day of the reunion, she found herself kind of looking forward to it, in a bizarre sort of way. High school hadn’t been a great time for her. Dad had been out to sea a lot and her relationship with her mother had been going downhill.

But she’d had fun, anyway, finding the most outrageous things to wear and do possible, knowing the school was just gnashing its teeth, since expelling an honors student bucking for class valedictorian just didn’t cut the mustard.

It was—what?—eleventh grade when I’d stopped responding to my birth name and made everyone call me Dar? Yeah. She’d worn sunglasses inside and leather and ripped clothes, with chains hanging around her neck, ear cuffs. Oh, and the spurs.

And the boots.

She’d sounded like John Wayne going up in assembly that last year, to pick up not one, but four scholastic achievement awards, and she’d thoroughly enjoyed the fact that it drove every single one of the staff, and her mother, completely crazy.

Bite me. In studs, on the back of that leather jacket, too.

“What a punk.” She laughed at her reflection. “And they couldn’t say a goddamned word to me—not with that record and zero absences and zero tardies.”

Perfect attendance. Straight A student. An excellent athlete who refused to participate in team sports. Cocky. Antisocial.

Dar sighed, meeting her own eyes in the mirror. “What an asshole I was. If I’d have met myself, I’d have kicked my butt from one end of Fla-gler Street to the other.” With a wry chuckle, she shed her towel and slid into a pair of cotton briefs with little devils all over them. Then she picked up the pair of very faded, artfully ripped jeans Kerry had discovered in a bag shoved way in the back of the closet and stepped into them, tugging them up and pausing.

“Hmm.” They were snug, but she’d expected that. She fastened the worn buttons and studied the result. Well, nothing hung over and nothing 204 Melissa Good poked out. Better than she’d hoped for, actually. She picked up the vest and examined it, then shrugged it on and pulled the laces.

The leather was soft and pliable and readily fitted itself to her body as she finished the side laces and started up the front. There were sizable gaps in the hide, where her own skin showed, and the neckline was cut low with narrow shoulder straps, exposing quite a bit of her upper body.

“All right,” she murmured, tugging the last bit into place and patting the front. “An escapee from a bad Mad Max imitation movie. Nifty.”

The doorbell rang, and she blinked, then walked out into the living room and tried to imagine who on earth would be dropping by without security calling her. Clemente, probably. She unlocked the door and pulled it back, stopping in startled shock when blue eyes on a level with hers appeared.

“Oh. Hi, Dad.” Dar glanced to one side. “Mother.” A totally adolescent panic turned her guts to mush. “Uh…”

Andrew Roberts’ eyebrows hiked up and he put a hand on one hip as he studied his offspring. “What in the hell?”

“Now, that’s the daughter I remember,” Cecilia murmured softly, an ironic twist to her lips. “Sorry we surprised you, Dar. We just flew in and your father wouldn’t rest before he showed me where you lived.”

“Ah.” Yeah. Okay. Jaw closed, brain on straight, Dar, c’mon. “Sure, um, c’mon in.” She backed up and allowed them to enter. “Mother, we have a dog.”