"No." Still gripping the chair, she shifted, lowered herself before her legs buckled. "Finn didn't — no one told me." She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the kick of nerves in her stomach. When she opened them again, they were dark as pitch and burning dry. "But you will. I want to know what happened. Exactly what happened."

There was going to be more than a little tiff when Finn Riley returned, Jenner decided. As he related the facts, he watched her take them in. She winced once, as though the words were darts, then went very still. Her eyes remained level, and curiously blank until he had finished.

She said nothing for a moment, leaning forward to pour more tea. Her hand was steady. Jenner admired her poise and control, particularly since he'd seen the ripple of horror cross her face.

"You think that whoever's been sending the notes, whoever broke into my office and my home, killed Angela."

It was a reporter's voice, Jenner noted. Cool and calm and without inflection. But her eyes weren't blank any longer. They were terrified. For some reason he remembered a report she'd done years before, a woman in the suburbs who'd been shot to death by her husband. Her eyes hadn't been blank then, either.

"It's a theory," he said at length. "It makes more sense for only one person to be involved." "Then why not me?" Her voice broke, and she shook her head impatiently. "Why Angela and not me? If he was so angry, so violently angry with me, why did he kill her and leave me alive?"

"She was in your way," Jenner said briskly, and watched as the full impact struck Deanna like a blow.

"He killed her for me? Oh Jesus, he did it for me."

"We can't be sure of that." Jenner began, but Deanna was already shoving out of her chair.

"Finn. Good God, he could come after Finn. He broke into the house. If Finn had been there, he would have…" She pressed a hand to her stomach. "You have to do something."

"Miss Reynolds—"

But she heard the sound of tires on gravel. She whirled, racing the dog to the door, shouting for him.

Finn was already cursing the other car in the drive when he heard her call his name. His annoyance at the intrusion faded as he saw her sprint out of the house. She leaped trembling into his arms, choking back sobs.

Finn gathered her close, his eyes hot and lethal as they skimmed over her shoulder to where Jenner stood on the porch. "What the hell have you done?"


"I'm sorry." It was the best Finn could think of to say as he faced Deanna across the living room. Jenner had left them alone. After, Finn thought bitterly, he'd dropped his bomb.

"What for? Because I found out from Jenner? Or because you didn't trust me enough to tell me in the first place?"

"That it happened at all," he said carefully. "And it wasn't a matter of trust, Deanna. You're barely out of the hospital."

"And you didn't want to upset my delicate mental balance. That's why the television is conveniently on the blink. That's why you wanted to go to the store alone, and didn't bring back the paper. We wouldn't want poor little Deanna to hear any news that might upset her."

"Close enough." He plunged his hands into his pockets. "I thought you needed some time."

"You thought. Well, you thought wrong." She spun around, headed for the stairs. "You had no right to keep this from me."

"I did keep it from you. Damn it, if we're going to fight, at least do it face to face." He stopped her on the landing, grabbing her arm, turning her around.

"I can fight when I'm packing." She shook him off and stalked into the bedroom.

"You want to go back, fine. We'll go back after we've settled this."

She dragged an overnight case out of the closet. "We don't have to go anywhere. I'm going." She tossed the case onto the bed, threw open the lid. "Alone." In quick, jerky moves, she plucked bottles and jars from the dresser. "I'm going hack to my apartment. I can get whatever I've left at your house later."

"No," he said, very calmly, "you're not." She heaved a perfume bottle toward the open case. It bounced merrily on the bed.

"That's exactly what I'm doing." With her eyes on his, she pried his fingers loose. "You lied to me, Finn. If Jenner hadn't come out here for some follow-up questions, I wouldn't have known about the break-in, or that you'd interviewed Dan Gardner and that hotel maid. I wouldn't have known anything."

"No, and you might have gotten a few nights' sleep."

"You lied," she repeated, refusing to see past that. "And don't tell me keeping the truth from me is different than lying. It's the same. I won't continue in a relationship that isn't honest."

"You want honest. That's fine." He turned, shut the door with a quiet click. A final click. "I'll do anything and everything in my power to protect you. That's a fact." Eyes steady, he walked back to her. "You're not walking out on me, Deanna. That's a fact. And you're not using some bullshit about rights and trust as your escape hatch. If you want out, then at least be honest."

"All right." She shifted so that he couldn't see the way her hands shook as she packed. "I made a mistake when I agreed to marry you, and I've had time to think it through. I need to concentrate on my career, on my own life. I can't do that if I'm trying to make a marriage work, if I'm starting a family. I talked myself into thinking I could do it all, but I was wrong." The diamonds on her finger winked mockingly at her. She couldn't quite bring herself to take the ring off. Not yet. "I don't want to marry you, Finn, and it's not fair to either of us to continue this way. My priority right now is my work, and getting it back on track."

"Look at me, Deanna. I said look at me." With his hands firm on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. The sensation of panic faded into steely confidence. "You're lying."

"I know you don't want to believe—" "Jesus Christ, Deanna, don't you know that I can see it in your face. You could never lie worth a damn. Why are you doing this?"

"I don't want to hurt you any more than necessary, Finn." She held herself rigid in his arms, stared over his shoulder. "Let me go."

"Not a chance in hell."

"I don't want you." Her voice cracked. "I don't want this. Is that clear enough?"

"No." He jerked her forward, covered her mouth with his. She trembled immediately, her body shuddering against his, her lips heating. "But that is."

"It's not the answer." But her body yearned for his, for the warmth, the strength.

"You want me to apologize again?" Gently now, he stroked a hand over her hair. "Fine. I'm sorry, and I'd do exactly the same thing. If you want to call it lying to you, then I'd lie. I'd do whatever I had to do to keep you safe."

"I don't want to be protected." She broke away, curled her hands into impotent fists. "I don't need to be protected. Can't you see? Don't you understand? He used me to kill her. He used me. He isn't going to hurt me; I don't need to be protected. But God knows who else he might hurt because of me."

"Me," he said quietly, furiously. "That's what this is all about. You think he might try for me. The best way to prevent that is to dump me, right? To make sure everyone knows you've broken it off."

Her lips trembled before she pressed them together. "I'm not going to argue with you, Finn."

"You're absolutely right about that." He picked up her case and upended the contents. "Don't ever try that with me again. Don't ever use my feelings on me like that again." "He'll try to kill you," she said dully. "I know he will."

"So you lied, to try to protect me." When she opened her mouth, shut it again, he smiled. "Quid pro quo, Deanna. We'll call it even. So you don't want to be protected — neither do I. What do you want?"

She lifted her fisted hands to her cheeks, then let them fall. "I want you to stop watching me as though I were going to fall apart."

"Done. What else?"

"I want you to swear you won't keep anything from me, no matter how much you think it'll upset me."

"Deal, and same goes."

She nodded slowly, watching him. "You're still angry."

"Yeah, I'm still angry. It's a residual effect when the woman I love cuts me in half."

"You still want me."

"God, yes, I still want you."

"You haven't made love with me since this happened. Whenever I'd turn to you, you'd soothe and you'd cuddle, but you haven't touched me."

"No, I haven't." He felt the blood begin to swim in his veins. "I wanted to give you time."

"I don't want time!" she shouted at him, felt the first sweet snap of release. "I'm not fragile or weak or delicate. I want you to stop looking at me as though I were, as though I'd crumble. I'm alive. I want to feel alive. Make me feel alive."

He reached out, brushed his knuckle down her cheek. "You should have asked for something more difficult."

He kissed her. She could feel the sparks of fury he was struggling to bank, taste the hot frustration, the searing need.

"Don't," she murmured. "Don't be gentle. Not now."

He wanted to be. But she was pulling him down on the bed, her hands already frantic as they tugged at his clothes. He couldn't be gentle, couldn't tap the well of tenderness when her mouth was driving him beyond caution into madness.

Her body vibrated against his as she arched and strained and writhed. More was all she could think. More of him. More of that simmering violence she had watched him fight to chain for days. She wanted him to release it now, inside her.