She told the reporters, regretfully, that her mother, her only living relative, was too ill to attend. In reality she was tucked in a private clinic, drying out.

Kate Lowell, looking young and fresh in a billowing sundress, kissed Angela's cheek for the benefit of the cameras. Her long red-gold hair flowed down her bare back, melted copper over sun-kissed peaches. She had a face the camera worshiped, ice-edged cheekbones, full lips, huge gold eyes. The image was completed by a sinuous body, killer legs and a rich infectious giggle.

Kate Lowell could have become a star on the sole basis of her glorious physical attributes. She certainly had done her share of commercial endorsements. But she had something more: talent and charm that burned every bit as hot as her box-office appeal. And ambition that seared through both.

She enchanted the photographer by shooting him a dazzling smile, then turned the other cheek for Angela. "I hate your guts," she said softly.

"I know, darling." Beaming, Angela slipped her arm around Kate's waist, fingers digging ruthlessly into flesh as she turned her best side to the camera. "Smile pretty now, show why you're the number-one female box-office draw."

Kate did, with a smile that could have melted steel at five paces. "I wish you were dead."

"You and so many others." She hooked her arm through Kate's and strolled off, two bosom friends stealing a private moment. "Now, is it true that you and Rob Winters are considering scripts for a TV movie?"

"No comment."

"Now, now, darling." Angela's voice was a purr, deadly feline. "Didn't we agree to scratch each other's backs?"

"I'd like to scratch your eyes." But she knew she couldn't. There was much too much at stake for her to indulge herself quite that blatantly. Still, there were other weapons. Tilting her head, Kate studied Angela's face. "That's an excellent tuck, by the way. Barely noticeable." Her smile was quick and sincere when Angela bristled. "Don't worry, darling, it'll be our secret. After all, a girl's got to do everything necessary to maintain the illusion of youth. Especially when she's married to a younger man."

Behind the flirty little veil, Angela's eyes were as hard as marbles. It was her day, by God. Hers. And nothing and no one would spoil it. "A script's come my way, Katie dear. I think you'll find it fascinating. And I think you'll be able to pique Rob's interest as well. The two of you have been pals for years, and it would be a friendly boost if you persuaded him to do it. After all, he doesn't have a great deal of time left to pick and choose, does he?"

"You bitch."

Angela gave a trilling laugh. Nothing could have pleased her more than seeing Kate's smug smile fade. "The trouble with actors is they need someone to write that clever dialogue. You'll have the script by Monday, darling. I really would consider it a favor if you'd read it quickly." "I'm getting tired of your favors, Angela. Other people might call it blackmail."

"I'm not other people. It's simply a matter of my having certain information that I'm more than happy to keep to myself. A favor to you, dear. In return, you do one for me. That's called cooperation."

"One day you're going to cooperate yourself right into hell."

"It's just business." With a sigh, Angela patted Kate's flushed cheeks. "You've been around long enough to know better than to take everything so personally. We'll discuss terms when I get back from my honeymoon. Now, you'll have to excuse me. I can't ignore my guests."

Although Kate's imagination didn't run to dialogue, she had no trouble with visuals. As Angela glided away, Kate saw the frothy silk splattered with blood.

"One day," she whispered, yanking a rose from a bush and crushing it in her hand. "One day, someone's finally going to get the guts and do it."


"She looks wonderful." Lolling on the couch in the cabin, Deanna studied the front cover of P. "Radiant."

Finn drummed up the energy to glance over. They had finally been able to synchronize a full three days off, together. If the phone didn't ring, the fax didn't shrill and the world didn't collapse within the next twenty-four hours, they would have made it through.

"She looks like one of those prop wedding cakes. All fancy fake icing over the inedible."

"Your vision's skewed by malice." "Yours should be, too."

She only sighed and flipped through to the cover story. "I don't have to like her to admit she's lovely. And she looks happy, really happy. Maybe marriage will mellow her."

He only snorted. "Since this is her third time at bat, that's doubtful."

"Not if this is the right one. I don't wish her bad luck, personally or professionally." She peered over the top of the magazine. "I want to whip her butt on merit."

"You are whipping her butt."

"In Chicago, and a few other markets. But this wedding's bound to shift the tide at least for a time."

He stretched his arms over his head, muscles rippling. Deanna could see the faint scar where the bullet had sliced through.

"Why do you think she did it?"

"Oh come on, Finn, give her some credit. A woman doesn't get married so that she can get her picture on a few covers."

"Kansas." Amazed that she could still be so naive, he took the magazine from her. "When you're slipping down the ladder, you grab hold of any handy rope."

"I think that's a mixed metaphor." "You think this is for love?" Laughing, he sent the magazine sailing. Angela, the happy bride, landed facedown. "She's had six weeks of free publicity since the day her secret engagement mysteriously leaked."

"It could have leaked." She gave him a friendly shove with her stockinged foot. "And even if she planted it, it doesn't change the bottom line. She's a beautiful, vibrant woman who fell for a gorgeous, magnetic man."

"Gorgeous?" Finn snagged her foot by the ankle. "You think he's gorgeous?"

"Yes, he's—" She shrieked, twisting as he tickled her foot. "Stop that."

"And magnetic?"

"Sexy." Giggling helplessly, she reared up to try to free herself. "Sinfully attractive." She tried biting when he wrestled her down.

"You fight like a girl."

She blew her hair out of her eyes and tried to buck him off. "So what?"

"I like it. And I'm now honor-bound to erase Dan What's-his-name from your mind."

"Dan Gardner," she said primly. "And I don't know if you can. I mean, he's so elegant, so polished, so…" She gave a mock shiver. "So romantic."

"We'll shoot for a contrast."

With one swipe, he dragged his hand down her breezy cotton blouse and sent buttons flying.

"Finn!" Caught between shock and amusement, she started to shove him back. The laughing protest ended on a strangled gasp as he fastened his mouth to her breast.

Instant heat. Instant need. It burst through her like light, blindingly bright. The hands that had playfully pressed against his shoulders tightened like vises, short, neat nails digging crescents into his flesh. Her heart stuttered beneath his greedy mouth, losing its pace, then racing ahead in a wild sprint.

His hands were already tugging aside the remains of her blouse, then streaking over bared skin to arouse and demand. The strong summer sun streamed through the windows, fell over her in hot white light. Her skin was moist from it, from his rough, impatient touch. With his mouth still feasting on her, he slid his hand under the baggy leg of her shorts and drove her ruthlessly to a fast, violent climax.

"Again." Driven himself, he fixed his mouth on hers, swallowing her cry as he pushed her higher.

He wanted her like this. So often he was content to let them take each other slowly, savoring each touch, each taste on the long, lazy journey toward fulfillment. He loved the way her body grew sinuous and soft, the way his own pleasures built layer by layer.

But now he wanted only the fast, molten ride, the mindlessness of hurried, urgent sex. He wanted to possess her, to brand her, to feel her body rock fitfully under his, until he was sunk deep.

He tore at her clothes even as she tugged and yanked at his. Her breath was hot on his flesh, her mouth streaking hungrily over him, sounds of desperate excitement humming in her throat.

He shifted, gripping her hips and lifting her up so that the muscles in his arms quivered. Then he was sheathed in her. Their twin cries of triumph shivered on the sultry air.

With her head thrown back, her long, slim body glistening with sweat, she took him deeper, drove him as he had driven her. Ruthlessly, relentlessly. She gripped his hands, guiding them over her damp body, urging him to claim more while her heart galloped in a mad race of its own.

The orgasm struck, a sweaty fist that pummeled and pummeled and left her body a mass of indescribably exquisite aches. The air was clogged and burning in her lungs. She sobbed to release it, sobbed to gulp it back in.

She felt his body lunge, vaulting her over that final, keen edge. Like wax melted in the sun, she slid down to him and lay limp.

His own mind cleared gradually, the static from the storm dying to a steady quiet that was her breathing. The dark haze that had covered his vision lifted so that he closed his eyes against the hard sunlight.

"I guess I protected my honor," he murmured. She gave a strangled laugh.

"I didn't know — God, I can't breathe." She tried again. "I didn't know tweaking your ego would be so… rewarding."

"Relaxed?"

She sighed. "V."