"Do you think Kevin heard us?" she asked just above a whisper.

Joe walked to the metal railing and looked over. "No. He sounded pretty busy." He straightened and moved to the left corner of the deck. "We can jump from here."

"Jump?" Gabrielle moved to stand beside Joe and looked over the side. The back half of Kevin's house and the whole deck hung from the side of a mountain and were supported by several substantial stilts. The earth below was corrugated with a succession of three-foot-wide terraces and braced with concrete to prevent erosion. "When I signed the confidential agreement, it didn't say anything about jumping off Kevin's deck and breaking my neck."

"You won't break your neck. It's only about ten or twelve feet from over here. All we have to do is climb over the rail, hang from the bottom of the deck, and let go. It'll only be about a four-foot drop."

Her shoulder brushed his as she leaned out a little further. He made it sound so easy. "Unless you miss the terrace you're aiming for, then it's about four more feet." She turned and looked at his profile, bathed in the first shadows of night. "There has to be some other way."

"Sure. We could always go back inside and interrupt Kevin. I imagine things are getting really interesting just about now." He looked across his shoulder at her.

"Maybe we could just wait a bit and then go through the house."

"And what are you going to tell Kevin took us so long to get your purse? He’ll think we were knocking boots in the bathroom the whole time."

"He might not think that," she said but didn't really believe it.

"Yes he would, and I'd have to give you a big sucker bite on your neck and mess up your hair just to make sure that's exactly what he'd think." He leaned way over the railing. "It's up to you, though. But if we're jumping, we better do it before it gets any darker out here. I don't want to miss that terrace." He straightened, looked at her, and grinned like he was having a really good time. "You ready?" he asked as if he hadn't just given her a choice between a hickey and jumping to her death.

"No!"

"You're not scared, are you?"

"Yes! Any person with half a brain would be terrified."

He shook his head and swung one leg, then the other, over the rail. "Don't tell me you're afraid of heights?" He stood on the outside edge of the deck, facing her, his hands gripping the metal bar.

"No. I'm afraid of falling to my death."

"You probably wouldn't die." He glanced at the ground below him, then back at her. "Probably could break a leg, though."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

His smile grew. "I was just kidding about that last part."

She leaned forward a fraction and looked down. "This isn't a real good time for jokes."

"You're probably right." He placed a hand beneath her chin and brought her gaze back up to his. "I won't let anything happen to you, Gabrielle. I won't let you get hurt."

They both knew he couldn't promise such a thing, but staring into his intense brown eyes, she almost believed he had the power to keep her safe.

"Trust me."

Trust him? She couldn't think of one good reason why she should trust him, but as she stood there perched above the city, contemplating a leap off the balcony, she discovered that she did trust him. "Okay."

"That's my girl," he said with a grin. Then he slid his hands to the bottom rail, lowering himself until all she could see of him was his big hands. Then they were gone too, followed by a heavy thud.

Gabrielle looked down at the top of his head, and he lifted his face up to her. "Your turn," he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard.

She took a deep breath. She could do this. She could climb on the outside of a flimsy rail and dangle ten or twelve feet in the air, then drop and hope she landed on a three-foot-wide terrace. No problem. She slid the strap of her purse over her head and shoulder, then shoved the big bag around to the small of her back. She tried not to think about falling to her death. "I can do this," she whispered and stepped onto the bottom rung of the railing.

"I am calm." She managed to keep her panic at bay as she swung one leg, then the other, over the rail. Another blast of cool air blew up her skirt as she balanced on the edge of the deck, her heels hanging over. The metal bar was cold within her tight grasp.

"That's it," Joe encouraged her from the ground.

She knew better than to glance over her shoulder, but she couldn't stop herself. She looked out at the city lights below, and she froze.

"Come on, Gabrielle. Come on, baby."

"Joe?"

"I'm right here."

She closed her eyes. "I'm scared. I don't think I can do this."

"Sure you can. You're the same woman who knocked me on my ass in the park. You can do anything."

She opened her eyes and looked down toward him, but it was dark and he was hidden in the shadows of the house, and she couldn't see anything but a gray outline.

"Just bend down a little and grab the bottom of the rail."

Slowly she slid her hands down the metal bars until she crouched on the edge, her behind hanging out over the city. She didn't think she'd ever been so terrified in her life. "I can do this," she whispered on a cleansing breath. "I am calm."

"Hurry up before your palms sweat."

Geez, she hadn't thought of sweaty palms, but now she did. "I can't see you. Can you see me?"

His soft, low chuckle rose to her "as she crouched with a death grip on the rail. "I have a real nice view of your white panties."

At the moment, Joe Shanahan looking up her skirt was the least of her problems. She slid one foot from the wooden deck.

"Come on, honey," he coaxed from below.

"What if I fall?"

"I'll catch you. I promise, only you have to let go now, before it gets too dark to see those panties."

She slowly slid her other foot from the deck and dangled above the dark ground below. "Joe," she called out just as her foot contacted with something solid.

"Fuck!"

"What was that?"

"The side of my head."

"Oh, sorry." His strong hands grabbed her ankles, then slid up the backs of her calves to her knees.

"I have you."

"Are you sure?"

"Let go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, let go."

She took a deep breath, counted to three, then released the railing. And she fell, sliding downward within the circle of his big arms. He clasped her to him, and her jumper bunched up around her waist as she slipped down his chest. His hands slid up the backs of her legs, and he held her bare thighs in his grasp. She looked down into his dark face just below hers.

"I did it."

"I know."

"My skirt's up around my waist," she said.

His teeth looked very white when he smiled. "I know." He slowly lowered her until her feet touched the ground, and his palms settled on her behind. "You're not only beautiful, you've got big cojones. I like that in a woman."

Gabrielle could honestly say that no man had ever chosen those exact words to compliment her before. Usually they stuck with more common flattery and commented on her eyes or legs.

"You were afraid, but you went over that railing anyway." His hot hands warmed her flesh through the lace of her underwear. "Do you remember last night when you said I couldn't kiss you anymore?"

"I remember."

"Did you mean on the lips?"

"Of course."

He lowered his mouth and kissed the side of her throat. "That leaves a lot of really interesting spots free," he said as his hands squeezed her bottom.

Gabrielle opened her mouth, then closed it again. What could she possibly say to that?

"Do you want me to find them now or later?"

"Ahh____________________later would probably be better." She tugged at the bottom of her skirt, but Joe's grasp tightened on her behind.

His voice was low and husky when he asked, "You sure?"

Not really. She stood on a terraced mountain-side, her butt hanging out of her dress, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be any other place than exactly where she stood. Wrapped in darkness, shoved against Joe's solid chest. "Yes."

He yanked the hem of her jumper and smoothed it over the curve of her bottom. "Let me know."

"I will." She stepped away from the lure of his voice and the warmth of his embrace. "How's your head?"

"I'll live." He turned and hauled himself up to the next level of the terraced retaining wall. She looked up at his outline, and he reached for her hand and pulled her up after him. He hauled her up three more times and made it all seem so easy.

The night had taken on a discernable chill by the time they made it to his old Chevy, and Gabrielle was looking forward to taking a nice warm soak in the tub when she got home. But fifteen minutes later, she found herself sitting on Joe's beige-and-brown sofa, the beady yellow-and-black eyes of his parrot pinning her to the couch. Across the living room Joe stood with his back to her, the cradle of a telephone dangling from one hand, the receiver in the other. He spoke just low enough not to be heard, then walked into the dining room, the long cord trailing after him.

"You've got to ask yourself one question. Do I feel lucky? Well do ya-punk?"

Gabrielle jumped and turned her full attention to Sam. "Excuse me?"

The parrot flapped his wings twice, then flew to the arm of the couch. He rocked from one foot to the other, then tilted his head to the side and studied her.

"Ahh… Polly want a cracker?"

"Go ahead, make my day,"

She supposed it made perfect sense that Joe's bird would quote Dirty Harry. She sat perfectly still as the bird walked along the back of the couch, a blue metal band around one scaly leg. "Nice parrot" she said softly and glanced in Joe's direction. He still stood in the dining room, his back to her, his weight resting on one foot. He cradled the receiver between his shoulder and ear and massaged his other shoulder with his opposite hand. For a brief second, she wondered if he'd hurt himself helping her over the retaining walls, but then Sam let out a shrill whistle, and she forgot about Joe. The bird swayed back and forth, then hopped on her shoulder.