Defending His Own

"Ashe, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the ladies' room and then check my wrap." Forcing a smile, Deborah nodded toward the rest room.

"I'll be waiting right outside." Ashe followed her down the corridor, Peanut right behind him keeping up a steady stream of conversation.

From where he stood, Ashe could see the entrance to the ballroom. He spotted Whitney immediately. Her loud laughter echoed out into the hallway. She had her arm draped around a young man who seemed utterly fascinated by her.

"Who'd ever thought Deborah Vaughn would turn into such a looker, huh?" Peanut jabbed Ashe in the ribs. "You two were always friends, weren't you? Rumor was her daddy had you run out of town."

"Rumors aren't always reliable," Ashe said.

"Well, Ms. Vaughn sure got herself into a mess with ol' Buck and his bunch of roughnecks. It's too bad she come up on Lon Sparks shooting Looney. Neither one of those boys was worth a cuss."

"Do you think Buck would kill to protect Sparks or seek revenge if he goes to the pen?"

"I'd say Buck would be more likely to have Lon Sparks killed to keep him from talking than he would to kill Ms. Vaughn. Sparks is a liability to them now. Me and some of the boys at work have got us a theory." Peanut stretched his five feet nine inches and placed his hand atop the gun holster resting on his hip.

"What's your theory?"

"We think Buck is putting on an act of trying to scare Ms. Vaughn, trying to make Lon Sparks think he's protecting him. You get my drift?"

"Yeah, I get it. Buck always was one for playing games." Ashe knew he should be comforted at the thought that it was possible Buck Stansell had no intention of killing Deborah, but Ashe's gut instincts told him that he should take nothing for granted. No matter what Buck's intentions were, the man was dangerous, a highly explosive bad boy, who was capable of anything.

Ashe caught a glimpse of Whitney coming his way. She swayed her narrow hips, encased in silver lamé, as she sauntered out of the ballroom.

"Now there's a real piece of work," Peanut said. "Sexy as hell and so gorgeous she gives a man ideas. But not worth the cost of the lead it'd take to shoot her."

"You seem to know an awful lot about Whitney Jamison." Ashe watched his old lover flirting outrageously with every man in her path as she made her way through the influx of late arrivals congested in the hallway.

"Hey, I've been moonlighting on this job for a good many years and I've seen quite a bit of Mrs. Jamison. She really works these social occasions, and I've rarely seen her leave with her husband, if you know what I mean."

Ashe grinned. "Not the faithful type?"

"Can't say I blame her, married to a loser like George Jamison. The man hasn't held a job in years. They live off her inheritance, you know. Her shares in that real estate firm Ms. Vaughn runs. And Georgie Porgie likes to gamble. They're always flying off to Vegas and Atlantic City and down to Biloxi."

Whitney walked up to Ashe, slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the mouth. Still draped around him, she smiled. "Come dance with me, darling. If I remember correctly, you were a marvelous dancer."

"You were the marvelous dancer," Ashe said. "I just followed your lead."

Whitney's throaty laughter rumbled from her chest. Her almost naked chest, Ashe noted. Her strapless silver lamé dress crisscrossed over her full breasts, just covering her tight nipples. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Whitney sighed. "Come on, let's see if we're still good together." She rubbed herself intimately against Ashe.

Peanut cleared his throat. Ashe stared at him. The guard gave his head a few sharp jerks in the direction of the ladies' room. Glancing over his shoulder, Ashe saw Deborah watching him.

Grasping Whitney's arms, he pulled them from around his neck and stepped backward, putting some distance between them. Whitney's gaze followed Ashe's. She laughed again, an almost hysterical giggle.

"You'll have to find yourself another partner," Ashe said. "I'm afraid my dance card is filled."

Whitney leaned over and whispered in Ashe's ear, "If you think my little cousin is going to give you what you need, then you'd better think again. She doesn't know the first thing about men, and most certainly nothing about a man like you."

"That's where you're wrong, Mrs. Jamison." Ashe walked over to Deborah, slipped his arm around her rigid body and pulled her up against his side. "Would you like to dance, honey?" he asked Deborah.

Unsmiling, every nerve in her body tense, Deborah glared at Ashe. "Perhaps, after I've wished George a happy birthday and given him his present." She held up the shiny golden gift.

When Ashe guided Deborah past Whitney, Deborah paused. "You look lovely tonight, Whitney. But then I'm sure you already know that. No doubt every man at the party has told you at least once."

Whitney grinned, a rather shaky grin, one that didn't reach her eyes, one that didn't begin to compare with the smile spreading across Deborah's face.

"And you look adorable," Whitney said, giving Deborah a quick hug. "And aren't you the lucky one, having Ashe McLaughlin as your escort. But then, I suppose Aunt Carol is paying him extra, isn't she?"

"And he's worth every cent." Deborah tugged on Ashe's arm. She led him away from her cousin, down the hallway and into the ballroom.

Ashe and Deborah heard Peanut Haygood's hardy chuckle, but neither turned around to see Whitney's reaction.

"When did you learn to play hardball?" Ashe asked.

"When my father died and I had to take responsibility for his business as well as my mother and Allen."

"Let's find George and give him his present." Ashe ran his hand up and down Deborah's arm. "I want to dance with you."

Deborah wasn't quite sure what she thought or how she felt. A mixture of anger and exhilaration rioted along her nerve endings. All the old jealousies she'd felt for her cousin had come racing to the forefront when she'd walked out of the ladies' room and seen Whitney wrapped around Ashe. But when she had won their verbal sparring match, she'd felt as if she were walking on air.

She couldn't help wondering what would happen if she spent the night in Ashe's arms, dancing with him here at the country club? Perhaps the safest course of action would be to give George his present, stay long enough to appease her social set's curiosity and make a quiet, discreet exit. If Whitney indulged in her usual weakness for champagne, there was a chance she might make a scene later on. And Deborah wanted to avoid a real confrontation that would put her in the spotlight.

The whole town knew she was the prosecution's star witness, and that her life was in danger. And she had no doubt that Ashe McLaughlin's constant presence at her side had set tongues wagging. What would they say once Ashe had shown everyone that their relationship was intimate?

She didn't give a damn what they would say. She never had. She'd always been a lot like her mother. Carol Allen Vaughn had known who she was—an Allen—and had never considered herself subject to the rules and regulations of the society biddies. And no one had ever dared question Carol's judgment or suggest her actions were inappropriate. In that respect, Deborah was her mother's daughter.

But Carol had given in to Wallace Vaughn's authority, always the dutiful wife. If only her mother had gone against her father's wishes. If only—

"Deborah, such a smashing dress!" George Jamison III smiled his wide-mouthed, white-toothed smile and gave his cousin-in-law a peck on the cheek. "For me?" George eyed the gold foil-wrapped gift.

"Oh, yes. This is for you." Deborah hadn't realized that while she'd been thinking, Ashe had led her straight to the birthday boy. Although boy was hardly the appropriate word for a balding man of forty. Then again, perhaps boy was the correct word to describe George, who, in many ways, was far more immature than Allen.

"I'll just put it here with my other goodies." George laid the gift on top of a stack of presents arranged on the table behind him. "I suppose Whitney greeted y'all at the door. She's such a marvelous hostess. And she does love a good party."

"Yes, she met us in the hallway, actually," Deborah said.

Ashe tightened his hold around Deborah's waist. "Happy birthday, George."

George glanced at Ashe, his long, thin nose slightly tilted upward. He made no move to offer Ashe his hand. "McLaughlin." George's pale gray eyes met Ashe's vibrant hazel glare. "I was surprised to hear you'd come back to Sheffield to act as Deborah's bodyguard. Of course, we're all pleased that someone is looking out for her. I understand that you're highly qualified to handle brutes like Buck Stansell. Then, of course, it must be a help that you've had ties to those people all your life."

"Yes, it is a help." Ashe lifted the corners of his mouth just enough to hint at a smile, but he knew George Jamison would recognize the look in his eyes for what it was. Contempt. Dislike. Disgust.

"We can't stay too long," Deborah said. "I don't like to leave Mother alone."

"I quite understand." Glancing across the room, George waved at someone. "Do enjoy yourselves. I'm sure this is a bit of a treat for you, McLaughlin. Finally getting to come to the country club through the front door. Rather different from the last time you were here, isn't it?"

"George, you're being—" Deborah said.

"You're right." Catching sight of Whitney dancing with the young man she had cornered earlier, Ashe nodded in her direction. "Eleven years ago you and I were the only two guys Whitney was seeing."

"How dare you!" George's thin, white cheeks flushed pink.

Ashe led Deborah away from George, quickly ushering her through the crowd and onto the dance floor.

"That was a horrible thing to say to George," Deborah said.

"I was justified, don't you think?" Ashe pulled her close, leaning over to nuzzle her neck with his nose.

She gulped in a deep breath of air. "Yes, you were most definitely justified. George always has been a little snot! He's so immature."

"A little snot?" Ashe chuckled. "I guess that does aptly describe George, doesn't it?"

Deborah loved the feel of Ashe's arms around her, the security of his strength, the sensuality of his nearness. She didn't know what she had expected to happen tonight. Between Ashe and Whitney. Between Ashe and George. But she certainly hadn't expected to feel so light and free and thoroughly amused.

It suddenly hit her that neither she nor Ashe were the same two people who had left this country club eleven years ago. They had both grown up.

Ashe was no longer in awe of the wealthy social set that ruled the county. His dreams weren't wrapped up in a sexy package called Whitney Vaughn. He wasn't an angry, outraged, spurned lover.

And Deborah no longer saw herself as a wallflower beside her exquisite cousin. Any residue of leftover jealousy she might have once felt disappeared completely. She was strong. She was successful. She was attractive.

And Ashe McLaughlin wanted her!

They moved to the music, giving themselves over to the bluesy rendition of an old Glenn Miller song. They spent nearly an hour on the dance floor, wrapped in each other's arms. Occasionally Deborah noticed some curious stares and heard a few whispered innuendoes. None of it mattered, she told herself. She and Ashe were presenting themselves to the world as lovers. She could not allow herself to think otherwise. When the danger to her life ended, Ashe would be gone.

But during the duration of his stay, they could become lovers. She didn't doubt for one minute that Ashe wanted her. He had made that abundantly clear. The question was did she dare risk giving herself to him? Did she dare risk falling in love with him all over again? How could she become his lover and continue lying to him about Allen?

"Are you about ready to leave?" Ashe whispered, then kissed her ear.

Deborah shivered. "Yes. I think everyone has seen us and drawn their own conclusions."

"We don't have to go back to your house." Ashe ran his hand up and down her back. "We could find some place to be alone."

"No. I'm not… Just take me home. I can't handle a repeat performance of that night eleven years ago when we left the country club together."

"It wouldn't be the same. We aren't the same," he said. "We'd both know what we were getting into this time."

"That's the problem, isn't it? At least for me."

The music came to an end. Couples left the dance floor, while others waited for the next set to begin. Deborah pulled away from Ashe, intending to make a quick exit. Ashe jerked her into his arms, grasped the back of her head with his hand and kissed her, long, hard and devouring. Every rational thought went out of her head.

When she was weak and breathless, he ended the kiss, draped his arm around her shoulders and escorted her off the dance floor, past a glaring Whitney and her openmouthed guests.

"Every person in this room knows you're mine," he whispered as they walked out into the hall. "And since they're aware of my reputation, no one will doubt that I'm the kind of man who'd kill to defend his own."

Chapter 7

« ^ »

Deborah folded the blueprints and laid them aside. She couldn't seem to concentrate on the plans for Cotton Lane Estates, although she had promised Vaughn & Posey's backers a detailed report on their present subdivision project.

She lifted the cup of warm coffee to her lips and downed the sweet liquid. Clutching the coffee mug in her hands, she closed her eyes. In a few days, Lon Sparks's trial would begin and she'd be called on to testify. The waiting had been almost unbearable, not knowing what might or might not happen. She couldn't give in to her fears and allow the likes of Buck Stansell to frighten her into backing down from doing what she knew was right. But sometimes she wondered what her mother and Allen would do if anything happened to her. Her mother's health was so precarious, and Allen was still so young. What if he lost both her and her mother?

Ashe McLaughlin had a right to know he had a son. That's what her mother had told Deborah's father years ago and that's what she kept telling Deborah now. If anything were to happen to the two women in Allen's life, he would still have his father.

But how could she tell Ashe the truth? She and her mother had kept the true circumstances of Allen's birth a secret for ten years. What would Allen do if he suddenly discovered that the two people he loved and trusted most in the world had been lying to him his whole life?

No, she didn't dare risk losing Allen's love by telling Ashe the truth. She had no way of knowing how Ashe would react and whether or not he'd tell Allen everything.

Her mother had warned her that sooner or later Ashe would have to be told. Deborah had decided that it must be later, much later. She had to be strong. Just a little while longer. Ashe wouldn't stay in Sheffield if she wasn't in danger. He would walk out of their lives and never look back, the way he'd done eleven years ago. She could trust him with her life, but not with her heart—and not with Allen's future.

When she heard a soft knock at the door, Deborah opened her eyes. "Yes?"

Annie Laurie eased the door open. "Mr. Shipman's on the phone. He says it's urgent he speak to you."

"Mr. Shipman? The principal at Allen's school?"

"Yes, that Mr. Shipman."

"Okay. Thanks, Annie Laurie." Deborah picked up the telephone and punched the Incoming Call button. "Hello, Mr. Shipman, this is Deborah Vaughn. Is something wrong?"

Ashe slipped by Annie Laurie and into Deborah's private office, closing the door behind him. Deborah glanced at him.

"Ms. Vaughn, you need to come to school and pick up Allen," Mr. Shipman said. "I'm afraid there's been a problem on the playground during PE class."

"Has Allen been in a fight?" Deborah asked.

Ashe lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as if saying "Boys will be boys."

"Oh, no Ms. Vaughn, I didn't mean to imply that Allen had gotten himself into any trouble. Quite the contrary. It seems that when the fifth graders were playing softball during PE, a stranger approached Allen. Your brother won't tell us what the man said to him, but Allen seems terribly upset. I thought it best to phone you immediately."

"Yes, yes, you did the right thing, Mr. Shipman. I'll be right over." Deborah's heartbeat throbbed loudly in her ears, obliterating every other sound, even Ashe's voice. "Please, don't leave Allen alone. Make sure someone is with him until I pick him up." Deborah returned the phone to its cradle.

When Deborah didn't respond to his questions, Ashe grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her gently. "What's going on? Has something happened to Allen?"

"A strange man approached Allen on the playground during PE. Mr. Shipman said the man upset Allen." Deborah clutched the lapels of Ashe's jacket. "What if— Oh, God, Ashe, what if Buck Stansell sent someone to hurt Allen?"

"Did anyone besides Allen get a good look at this man? Did they see whether he was on foot or driving?"

"I didn't think to ask, dammit." Releasing her hold on Ashe, Deborah walked around to the front of her desk. Yanking open the bottom drawer, she lifted out her leather bag and threw the straps over her shoulder. "I have to pick up Allen and take him home. I have to make sure he's all right. If anyone dares harm him, I'll—"

"I'll take care of anyone who threatens Allen, in the same way I'll handle anyone who threatens you." Ashe held out his hand. "Give me the keys to your Caddy. I'll drive. On the way over to the school, pull yourself together. Allen doesn't need to see how upset you are."

Deborah took a deep breath. "You're right. It's just that, in the back of my mind, I kept wondering if and when Buck Stansell would target Mother or Allen. Oh, Ashe, I can't let anything happen to Allen."

"Nothing is going to happen to Allen." He took her hand in his. "I promise."

Within five minutes they marched side by side into Richard Shipman' s office where Allen sat, silent and unmoving, in a corner chair. The minute he saw Deborah, he ran into her open arms.

"Give us a few minutes alone with Allen," Ashe said to the principal, who immediately nodded agreement and exited his office.

"What happened, sweetheart?" Deborah asked, bending on her knees, hugging her child close, stroking his thick blond hair. "Tell us everything."

Allen clung to Deborah for several moments, then glanced over at Ashe. "You can't let them do anything to hurt her."

"Allen, will you tell me what happened?" Ashe reached down and patted Allen on the back.

Allen shook his head, released his tenacious hold on Deborah, but still clung to her hand as she stood. "He walked up to me on the playground. I was waiting my turn at bat. He said he knew my sister and that he wanted me to give her a message."

"Oh, Ashe!" Deborah clenched her teeth tightly together in an effort not to cry in front of Allen.

Laying his hand on Deborah's shoulder, Ashe gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Had you ever seen this man before?"

"No," Allen said.

"Come on, let's go sit down over here on the sofa." Deborah led Allen across the room to the small, leather sofa situated against the back wall between two oak filing cabinets. "I want you to answer all of Ashe's questions. He's here to help us. Do you understand?"

"What—what do you want to know?" Allen looked at Ashe.

"Would you recognize the man if you ever saw him again? Can you tell me what he looked like?"

"Yeah, I'd recognize him, all right. He was big and ugly and he smelled bad."

"Sounds like somebody Buck would sent around to frighten a child," Ashe said.

"He didn't scare me." Allen tightened his hold on Deborah's hand. "I told him off. If you don't believe me, just ask Tripper Smith. He heard me telling that guy he'd better leave my sister alone."

Ashe knelt down in front of Allen. "I know you're brave and that you'd fight for your sister."

Deborah forced a smile when she looked at Allen's pale little face. "Did the man try to hurt you?"

"Naw, he just said to give my sister a message. He said to tell you that if you show up in court Monday, you'll be very sorry. And I told him that nothing he said or did would keep you from testifying against that murderer. And he said if you did, you were stupid. That's when I tried to hit him, but he just laughed and walked away."

"Did your teacher see the man, or any of the other kids beside this Tripper Smith?" Ashe asked.

"My teacher didn't see nothing, but several of the kids saw him. Tripper's the one who went and told Coach Watkins what had happened."

"Okay, Allen, why don't you and Deborah go do whatever is necessary to get you checked out of school for the day. I'll make a couple of phone calls and then we'll be ready to leave." Ashe wished he had the big, bad-smelling stranger in front of him right now. He'd teach Buck Stansell's messenger that it wasn't nice to go around frightening little boys, especially not a child under his protection.

"Are we going home?" Allen asked. "Do we have to tell Mother what happened? She'll just worry."

"We aren't going home," Ashe said. "I think you and Deborah and I should go somewhere for burgers and fries and then do something fun together this afternoon. How does that sound to you, Allen?"

"Sounds great to me." Allen looked at Deborah. "Can I really play hooky for the rest of the day?"

"You bet you can." Deborah stood. Allen jumped up beside her. "We'll go get Allen checked out of school and wait for you in the office."

"I'll only be a few minutes." Ashe picked up the telephone and dialed the police department. "Allen, I know you don't want to worry your mother, but we'll have to tell her what happened when we go home."

Allen nodded. Deborah ushered him out of the principal's office, thankful that Ashe McLaughlin was taking charge of the situation, thankful that she hadn't had to face this alone. The thought that they had come together like a family—a mother, a father and their child—flashed through Deborah's mind. She couldn't allow herself the indulgence of such thoughts. Thinking of the three of them as a family could be dangerous.

"I can't eat another bite." Ashe shoved a French fry into Deborah's mouth. She slapped his hand away.

"I want one of those sundaes, don't you, Ashe?" Allen read the list of desserts off the wall sign behind the counter. "I want caramel with nuts."

"That's my favorite, too." Ashe slid out from behind the booth. "I'll order us both one. What do you want, Deborah?"

"Nothing! I've eaten enough for a couple of meals."

"Ah, she's just worried she'll get fat," Allen said. "She used to be sort of plump a long time ago. Hey, you already know that. You knew Deborah even before I did."

"So I did." Ashe sauntered off to order their desserts, coming back with two caramel sundaes and a small chocolate ice-cream cone, which he handed to Deborah.

"Chocolate used to be your favorite," he said.

"It still is," she admitted, taking the cone and napkin he handed her. During the last months of her pregnancy, she had craved chocolate ice cream. Maybe that was the reason Allen hated the stuff. She'd gorged him on it before he'd been born.

She didn't realize she'd been sitting there smiling, a dazed look in her eyes until Ashe waved his hand in front of her face.

"Where did you go?" he asked. "You're a million miles away."

"Just thinking about chocolate ice cream," she said.

"Well, you'd better eat it before it melts." Allen lifted a spoonful of his sundae to his mouth. "Thanks for getting extra nuts, Ashe."

"Nothing's too good for us, pal." Ashe didn't think he'd ever felt about a kid the way he felt about Allen. He didn't understand it, couldn't explain it, but he felt connected to Allen Vaughn. Maybe it was because of his past history with the family, his respect for Miss Carol, his friendship with Deborah. Whatever the cause, he found himself wondering what it would be like to have a child of his own, a boy like Allen.

"Now who's gathering moss?" Deborah wondered what Ashe was thinking. The man was such a mystery to her. Once she'd thought she knew him, but she'd been wrong. He'd never been the man she thought he was.

"What can folks do on a weekday afternoon around here for fun?" Ashe asked. "How about a movie?"

"No matinees except on the weekend," Deborah said.

"What about miniature golf?" Allen wiped his mouth with his paper napkin. "I think it's still open every afternoon until Thanksgiving."

"How about it, Deborah, are you game for a round of golf?" Ashe smiled at her and she returned his smile. "You should do that more often, you know."

"What?" she asked.

"Smile like that. A guy would agree to anything you wanted if you smiled at him like that." The warmth of her smile brought back memories of the way she'd smiled at him, lying in his arms in the moonlight, down by the river. He had never forgotten that beautiful smile or the way it had made him feel just looking at her.

"Aw, are you getting all mushy?" Allen shook his head. "Save all that love talk for when you're alone with her. I'm too young to hear stuff like that."

"Allen!" Deborah rolled her eyes heavenward.

"Eat your sundae," Ashe said. "And I'll keep in mind that you aren't old enough to learn from a master just yet. But in a few more years, you'll be begging me to share my secrets of seduction with you."

"Ashe! Of all things to say to a ten-year-old."

"Ah, lay off Ashe." Allen spoke with his mouth half full of sundae. He swallowed. "You just don't understand guy stuff."

"Oh, well, excuse me." Grinning, Deborah licked the dripping ice cream from around the edge of her cone. She glanced over at Ashe, who watched her intently, his vision focused on her mouth. She licked a circle around the chocolate ice cream, all the while watching Ashe watch her. This was a grown-up game she was playing, a subtle sexual game that Allen wouldn't notice. But Ashe noticed. He knew precisely what she was doing and why.

His jaw tightened. His eyes shone with the intensity of their gaze, fixed on her mouth, on her tongue. He gripped the edge of the table with one hand and laid his tightly clenched fist beside his half-eaten sundae.

She was arousing him and she knew it. She liked the sense of power he gave her by his display of desire. If they were alone, instead of sitting in a fast-food restaurant with Allen, she wasn't sure she'd have the nerve to tempt Ashe.

"Are you any good at playing miniature golf?" Allen tossed his plastic spoon into his empty sundae bowl. "Hey, Ashe, are you listening to me?"

"What did you say, pal?"

"Are you good at playing miniature golf?" Allen repeated. "Deborah and Mother play real golf and they take me along. They're teaching me how to play. But right now, I still like miniature golf better."

"I can't say I've ever played miniature golf before," Ashe said. "Today you'll have to be my teacher."

"I like that idea. I don't think I've ever taught anybody anything before." Allen beamed with pleasure.

Deborah relaxed and finished off her ice-cream cone, thinking how easily a child can adapt, how quickly Allen had gone from a frightened, worried little boy into a secure, happy kid looking forward to a new experience.

Would he adapt so easily if someday she told him the truth—that she was his mother and Ashe was his father?

"Straight upstairs and into the bathtub for you, young man." Deborah gave Allen a gentle push up the stairs, then dropped down on the bottom step. When Allen dashed off, galloping up the stairs and down the hall, Ashe propped his foot on the step beside Deborah and leaned over, kissing the tip of her nose.

She stared up at him, bewilderment in her eyes. "What was that for?"

"For being so cute. Your hair is an absolute mess." He twirled a loose strand around his index finger. "Your shoes are ruined and you've got chocolate stains on your blouse."

They both glanced down to the dark circle on the silk that lay over the rise of her left breast. "I need to get out of this blouse and soak it before the stain sets in any worse than it already has."

Ashe released her hair, ran his finger down the side of her neck and over into the V of her blouse. "Need any help?"

Carol Vaughn cleared her throat. Ashe straightened. Deborah looked up at her mother who walked from the living room into the hallway.

"Is Allen all right?" Carol asked. "He didn't seem upset."

"He's practically forgotten about what happened," Deborah said. "Thanks to Ashe. We've eaten hamburgers and fries twice today, played God only knows how many rounds of miniature golf, went to see that ridiculous dog movie and bought Allen a brand-new computer game."

"Should we take Allen out of school until the trial is over?" Carol asked.

"No, that would only make matters worse for him." Getting up, Deborah walked over to her mother and placed her arm around her frail shoulders. "I think Ashe should act as Allen's bodyguard from now on instead of mine."

"Oh, Deborah, no. Do you think Allen really is in danger?"

"Miss Carol, there's no way to know whether Allen is in real danger, but we don't dare take any chances," Ashe said. "I called the police, and Chief Burton has assured me that they'll send a patrol car around every day during Allen's PE time. And I spoke to Sheriff Blaylock, gave him a description of the man who confronted Allen on the playground."

"Do you think there's any chance of catching the man?" Carol slipped her thin arm around her daughter's waist.

"I doubt it," Ashe said. "My bet is that Buck got somebody from out of town and the guy's long gone by now."

"I didn't want to think that Allen might be in danger," Carol said. "But it did cross my mind that these people might try to get to Deborah through her … her brother."

"You could also be in danger, Miss Carol, especially when you're outside the house. With the security system we have in place now, it would be difficult for anyone to break in." Anyone who wasn't a highly trained professional, Ashe thought. He doubted any of Buck's local boys had the know-how to get past a sophisticated system, but it was possible.

"I'm not worried about myself, only my children. You must keep Deborah and Allen protected no matter what."

"Mother, don't fret this way. It isn't good for you."

"With your permission, Miss Carol, I'd like to bring in another man to guard Allen," Ashe said.

"Someone else from Dundee Security?" Carol asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you think that's necessary?" Carol looked to Deborah, who nodded and squeezed her mother's hand.

"All right, you do what you think best." Carol allowed Deborah to help her up the stairs. Pausing on the landing, she looked down at Ashe. "You have no idea how reassured I am by your presence here, Ashe McLaughlin, knowing that you have taken responsibility for Deborah and Allen."

Deborah's gaze met Ashe's. Looking away quickly, she assisted her mother to her room. Ashe couldn't quite figure out that strange look in Deborah's eyes, almost pleading. And sad. And even afraid. This wasn't the first time he'd sensed Deborah feared him, but he couldn't understand why. Not unless she still loved him. Dear God, was it possible? Of course not, no one kept loving someone eleven years after they'd been rejected.

Ashe went into the library, closed the door and dialed Simon Roarke's private number. Dundee himself would have been Ashe's first choice, but Sam seldom took on private cases any more. His other top choices were J.T. Blackwood, who was already involved in another case, and Simon Roarke.

He'd known Simon for nearly a year, had met him when he'd first hired on with Dundee Security. The two had liked each other immediately, finding they had enough in common to form a friendship. A couple of former career soldiers who'd been born and raised in Southern poverty.

"Roarke here." His voice sounded like gravel being dumped onto sheet metal.

"This is McLaughlin. I need you on the first plane out of Atlanta. Tonight if possible."

"What's up?"

"The woman I'm protecting has a ten-year-old brother. Today a stranger approached him on the school playground and gave him a message for his sister."

"The bastard!" Roarke said, the sound possessing the depth of a Rottweiler's bark. "He didn't hurt the kid, did he?"

"Allen's fine. I just want to make sure he stays that way." Ashe knew that if Simon Roarke had one weakness, it was children. His only child had died years ago, and Simon had never fully recovered, had never escaped the demons of pain.

"I'll let Sam know where I'll be. He can fax me all the information on your case," Roarke said. "And I'll see you first thing in the morning."

Ashe stayed in the den for nearly thirty minutes after he finished talking to Roarke. He stood by the window, looking out into the darkness, not seeing what lay before him, only envisioning Deborah's smile. He wanted her to smile at him again the way she'd smiled at him that night so long ago. He hadn't realized how much he needed someone to love him.

Hell! He was a fool. Deborah didn't love him. She might desire him the way he desired her, but she wasn't a seventeen-year-old girl anymore. She didn't look at him through the eyes of love and see her Prince Charming. And he had no one to blame but himself. He had been the one to destroy her fairy-tale dreams.

She had offered him everything. And he'd been too young and stupid to realize what he was rejecting.

He made his way upstairs, turning off lights as he went. Allen's bedroom door stood open. The sound of his and Deborah's voices floated down the hall. Strange, how quickly he'd come to feel at home in the Vaughn household, how quickly he had come to think of Miss Carol and Allen, and yes, dammit, Deborah, as his own family.

He stood several feet away from Allen's room, looking through the open door. Deborah, fresh from a bath and wearing a navy blue silk robe, sat on the edge of Allen's bed. She pulled the covers up around his chest, then patted the edges into place. Lifting her hand, she reached out and touched Allen's face, the gesture so filled with love that it hit Ashe in the pit of his stomach with knockout force.

"We're going to be just fine, you know," Deborah said, cradling Allen's cheek with her hand. "I've been taking care of us for a long time now and haven't done such a bad job. Now Ashe is here, and he won't let anything happen to you or me or Mother."

"I like Ashe a lot, don't you? He's the kind of man any guy would like for a father." Allen threw his arms around Deborah, giving her a bear hug.

Deborah hugged him fiercely. Ashe noticed her shoulders trembling. He wanted to go to them, put his arms around Deborah and Allen and become a part of the love they shared. He wanted to tell them that he'd die to protect them.

Allen fell back into the bed, his eyes drooping as he yawned. "Since Ashe is too young for Mother, you could marry him. He'd make a pretty great brother-in-law."

"I'll keep that in mind, but don't expect anything. Ashe is our friend, but he has a life in Atlanta. Once the trial is over and things gets back to normal, Ashe will be leaving."

"I wish he would stay forever." Allen yawned, then closed his eyes. "Don't you wish he'd stay forever?"

Deborah kissed Allen on the forehead, turned out the lamp on the bedside table and walked out of Allen's room, leaving the door partially open. She saw Ashe standing in the hallway, staring directly at her, the oddest expression on his face.

"You didn't answer him," Ashe said. "Do you wish I'd stay forever?"

"Is anything forever, Ashe?" She walked toward him, then lowered her eyes and passed him, turning to go into her room.

Reaching out, Ashe grabbed her by the wrist. She halted. "I didn't use to think so. Now, I'm not so sure."

Deborah pulled her wrist out of his loose grasp. "Let me know when you're sure, Ashe." She went into her bedroom and closed the door.

Chapter 8

« ^ »

Completing the jury selection had taken all morning, so Deborah had remained at work until noon, then gone home for lunch with her mother. Ashe had told her there was no need for her to make an appearance in court until she was called on to testify, but she had insisted on going.

Now she wished she hadn't. Local and state newspaper and television reporters swarmed around her like agitated bees, each person trying their best to zero in on the prosecution's eye witness. Ashe shielded her with his body, practically carrying her past the horde of reporters and crowd of spectators. She clung to her protector, closing her eyes against the sight of clamoring people, the din of voices rising higher and higher.

Seating her near the back of the courtroom, Ashe stood at her side, like a guardian angel wielding a flaming sword to keep danger at bay and the unwanted from trespassing on her private space. When Judge Williams entered the courtroom, Deborah stood, taking Ashe's hand in hers. She sought and found comfort in his presence. His power and strength nourished her own, helping her face what lay ahead.

There had been no question in her mind that she would attend this first day of Lon Sparks's trial. She thought it necessary to show the world, by her presence, that she would not be intimidated by Buck Stansell and his gang of hoodlums. Of course, none of them were in attendance. They would stay away, keeping up the pretense that they were not involved, when the whole county knew they were.

One by one, the prosecution called their witnesses. First, the Leighton police, then Charlie Blaylock and two of his deputies. The day's proceedings moved along quickly, Deborah sitting tensely, Ashe at her side. At five o'clock, the court session ended, the judge announcing a recess until the following morning. Would they get to her that soon? Deborah wondered. Would the trial actually come to an end in a week's time? Unless the defense dragged things out, Deborah couldn't imagine the trial lasting much longer.

When Ashe touched her, she jumped. Standing, he offered her his hand. "I'll get you to the car as quickly as possible. Just stay right by my side. Don't look at or respond to the reporters."

"Some of them kept watching me during the trial proceedings." She accepted Ashe's assistance. "I saw them looking at me during the testimony. Especially when Jerry Don Lansdell told how I came running into the Leighton police station that day. The defense lawyer, that Mr. Prater, had Jerry Don practically admitting that I was too hysterical to know what I was talking about, that I was a raving lunatic."

"Don't worry about it. The jurors aren't stupid. They saw through what Sparks's lawyer was trying to do." Ashe slipped his arm around her. "When you're on the stand, you'll convince the jurors that you saw Lon Sparks murder Corey Looney. These people are not going to doubt your word, Deborah. You're a respected citizen with nothing to gain by lying."

Deborah glanced at her diamond-studded wristwatch. "It's too late to make Allen's soccer game. It should be ending about now."

"Then let's go home and let him tell us all about the game." Ashe led Deborah out of the crowded courtroom.

In the hallway, the same horde of insistent reporters swarmed around her. Deborah squared her shoulders. Ashe kept her protected, holding her close to his side.

"Ms. Vaughn, are you disturbed by the defense's accusation that you were too traumatized by the murder you witnessed to make a proper identification of the killer?" A lanky young reporter stuck a microphone into Deborah's face.

Ashe pierced the man with a sharp look, then shoved his way through the semicircle of inquisitors. They followed in hot pursuit. When Ashe and Deborah reached the stairs, he halted, turning around sharply.

"Ms. Vaughn has no comment, ladies and gentlemen, other than she will be in court to testify when called upon."

Ashe hurried her down the stairs, the reporters following, bombarding them with questions—everything from "Is it true Ms. Vaughn's ten-year-old brother had been attacked by a stranger on the school playground?" to "Is she romantically involved with her bodyguard?"

By the time Ashe and Deborah made their way to her Cadillac, parked across the street in the adjacent parking lot, Deborah wanted to scream. How on earth did celebrities endure their every move being a media event?

Ashe drove the Caddy out of the parking lot and headed up Water Street, making a right turn onto Main Street. Laying her head against the back of the leather seat, Deborah closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. Her face would be spread across the morning newspapers and appear on the evening newscasts. Right then and there, she decided not to turn on the television or even look at the paper.

A train caught them before they entered Sheffield. Ashe shifted the car into Park and glanced at Deborah. She looked like she was ready to scream or cry, maybe both. If only she had taken his advice and not gone to court today. Maybe now she would wait until time for her testimony before returning. She was so damn stubborn, so determined to show him and the rest of the world what a strong woman she was.

"When is Allen's next soccer game?" he asked.

"What?" She opened her eyes. "Oh. Day after tomorrow."

"If you're not on the witness stand, I think we should go to Allen's game."

"I try to make it to as many of his games as I possibly can. Except when she was very sick, Mother's never missed one. She's Allen biggest supporter."

"You haven't been worrying about Allen, have you?" Ashe noticed the last train car pass and the guard rails lifting. "I can assure you that Simon Roarke will guard him and your mother with his life. He's a good man, and highly trained."

"I'm sure you're right." Deborah rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. "But even good men who are highly trained can be taken out No one, not even you, Ashe, is invincible."

Shifting the gears into Drive, Ashe followed the line of backed up traffic over the railroad tracks and up Montgomery Avenue. "It's all right, you know, if you want to cry or scream or hit something. I won't think you're weak if you do."

"Thanks for your permission, but I don't need to do anything except get home and show my mother and my … my brother that I'm fine."

"Hey, they already know you're strong and capable and in control. You don't have to try to be a paragon for them. My God, Deborah, what are you trying to prove by this woman of steel routine? And to whom?"

To you, she wanted to scream. To you, Ashe McLaughlin. I want you to know that I'm not the same silly little girl who threw herself at your feet I want you to see me for the woman I am now. The woman your rejection helped create. A woman in charge of her own life. A woman capable of caring for others, without any help from a man.

Ashe turned into the Vaughn driveway and saw Simon Roarke pulling Carol Vaughn's silver Mercedes in right beside them. He parked in the three-car garage behind the house. The moment Deborah emerged from her Cadillac, Allen, in his gold-and-blue soccer uniform, raced around the cars and directly toward Deborah and Ashe.

"We won. I scored the winning goal." Allen jumped up and down in a boyish frenzy of triumph. "Tell them, Mr. Roarke. Tell them, Mother. I was awesome, wasn't I? You should have been there."

"Yes, I should have been," Deborah said. "Ashe and I will be at Wednesday's game if I don't have to testify that day."

Deborah caught the quick exchange of glances between Ashe and Simon Roarke. She wanted to ask them what was going on, but didn't dare in front of her mother and son. Besides, it might have meant nothing more than a coded recognition that all was well.

"Allen is quite an athlete," Roarke said in his gravelly voice. "They wouldn't have won the game without him."

"See. See." Full of youthful exuberance, Allen bounced around in the driveway. "Boy, Ashe, I wish you could have seen me make that goal."

A twinge of guilt tugged on Deborah's heartstrings. How was she going to handle Allen's growing dependency on Ashe? How would she be able to keep Ashe from disappointing their son? And that's the way she thought of Allen—as their son.

"Miss Carol should have videotaped it for us." Ashe winked at Carol, who stood near the entrance to the side patio.

"Oh, I could never watch the game and videotape it at the same time. I get too excited at these games," Carol said. "I'd end up dropping the video camera and breaking it."

"Hey, what's Mazie fixing for supper tonight?" Allen asked, running around the side of the garage, Roarke following him. "I'm starving."

"Pork chops, I think," Carol said, opening the gate to the side patio.

"I gotta go get Huckleberry out of the backyard now that we're home. I'll bet he's hungry, too." Allen bounded out of sight, Roarke on his heels.

Ashe and Deborah followed Carol through the gate and onto the side patio. A cool evening breeze swirled around them. Carol shivered.

"I think autumn weather is here to stay," she said.

"Yes, it seems—" Deborah said.

A loud scream pierced the evening stillness. Allen's scream! "Allen!" Deborah cried, gripping Ashe by the sleeve, then breaking into a run.

Ashe grabbed her by the arm, stopping her. "You and Miss Carol go into the house and lock the patio door. I'll see what's wrong."

Deborah nodded agreement, then led her mother inside, locking the door behind them. "Sit down in here and rest, Mother. I'll go see what's happened."

Once she had seated her mother on the sofa, Deborah raced through the house, meeting Mazie coming down the stairs.

"What was that screaming all about?" Mazie asked. "It sounded like Allen."

"It was," Deborah said. "Go see about Mother. She's in the living room."

Deborah rushed through the kitchen, flung open the back door and ran into the fenced backyard. Roarke stood facing Deborah, but his attention was riveted to the boy and man and dog on the ground. Deborah's heart stopped, her lungs filling with air as she sucked in a terrified breath.

Huckleberry lay on the ground, Allen on his knees beside him, trying to hug the big dog in his arms. Ashe hovered over Allen, his hand on Allen's shoulder as he talked in a low voice.

In the throes of a spasm, Huckleberry jerked. His spine arched, his head leaned backward, his legs twitched.

"What—what happened?" Deborah walked forward slowly.

"Looks like the dog's been poisoned," Roarke said.

"He's vomited," Ashe said, nodding toward the foul-smelling evidence. "If he has been poisoned, vomiting is a good sign. There's hope a vet might save him."

Tears streamed down Allen's face. He glanced up at Deborah. "Why would anybody want to hurt Huckleberry?"

Why indeed? Ashe looked at Deborah and she knew. This was another warning from Buck Stansell.

"Come on, Allen." Ashe pried the boy's arms from around his dog, lifting him to his feet. "Go inside and get a quilt to wrap Huckleberry in. He's still alive. If we hurry we might be able to help him."

Allen nodded in numb silence, then flew through the open back door.

"Roarke, get the vet's phone number from Miss Carol and call and tell him to meet us." Kneeling, Ashe hoisted the big, stiff-legged Lab into his arms. "Deborah, go get the car started. Allen and I will bring Huckleberry around."

Deborah had the car ready when Allen opened the door and helped Ashe place Huckleberry on the backseat. Father and son leaped into the backseat beside the dog, Ashe pulling Allen onto his lap.

"Let's go," he said.

Deborah drove like a madman, running several red lights as she flew down Second Street. She prayed that nothing would prevent them from making it to Dr. Carradine's Pet Hospital in Muscle Shoals. She heard Ashe talking to Allen, reassuring him without giving him false hope.

"Talk to Huckleberry, son. Tell him we're taking care of him. Tell him he's a fine dog."

Tears gathered in Deborah's eyes. She swatted them away with the back of her left hand while she kept her right hand on the steering wheel. It was so unfair for this to happen to Huckleberry. He was an innocent animal, a child's pet. The rage inside her boiled. If she could have gotten her hands around Buck Stansell's neck, she didn't doubt that, at this precise moment, she had the strength to strangle the man.

When she swerved into Carradine's Pet Hospital, Dr. Carradine rushed out the front door and over to the car. Ashe got out, pulling Allen with him. Dr. Carradine leaned over inside the car.

"I'd say from the looks of Huckleberry that he has been poisoned. My guess is strychnine." Dr. Carradine lifted Huckleberry, straining himself in the process, his small, slender arms barely able to manage the dog's weight.

Ashe took Huckleberry from the vet the moment he emerged from the car.

"Bring him inside quickly. I'll anesthetize him. It'll stop the spasms."

Deborah took Allen's hand and they followed Ashe into the veterinary clinic. When they entered the lobby, Ashe turned to Deborah.

"You and Allen stay out here."

"No, I want to go with Huckleberry," Allen cried.

"You can help Huckleberry by letting me take care of him," Dr. Carradine said.

Allen clung to Deborah, tears pouring from his eyes, streaking his face, falling in huge drops from his nose and chin.

Ashe laid the big Lab on the examining table. Huckleberry panted wildly, then went into another spasm. Ashe watched while the doctor filled a syringe and plunged it deep into the dog's body. Poor animal. The veterinarian refilled the syringe and administered a second injection.

"What now?" Ashe wondered if there was any hope of saving Allen's pet.

"Wait and pray," Dr. Carradine said. "I've given him enough anesthesia to put him in a deep sleep. If we can keep him this way, he has a slight chance of pulling through. But I have to be honest with you. It doesn't look good."

"Huckleberry had been vomiting when we found him." Ashe looked down at the short, slender young veterinarian. "It's possible he didn't completely digest all the poison."

"Good. It's the best possible sign, and that's what we'll tell Allen. There's nothing to do now but wait. If Allen and Deborah want to come on back here and be with him, it'll be all right."

The moment they saw Ashe in the doorway leading to the examining room, Deborah and Allen hurried toward him.

"Huckleberry is resting," Ashe said. "He's sound asleep. Dr. Carradine says that since Huckleberry vomited, there's a good chance his body hasn't absorbed enough poison to kill him. We have hope he'll pull through."

Allen flung his arms around Ashe's waist. Ashe laid his hand on Allen's head, then leaned down and picked him up into his arms and carried him into the examining room. Deborah followed behind them, tears blurring her vision.

"Huckleberry needs to rest," Dr. Carradine said. "I'll continue to give him injections to keep him peaceful. We'll hope for the best."

Ashe set Allen on his feet beside the examining table, keeping his hand on the boy's shoulder. Allen reached out, stroking his pet's back.

"Y'all can go on home and I'll call if there's any change," the vet said.

"No, I can't leave Huckleberry. What if he wakes up and I'm not here?" Allen threw his arms around the comatose animal.

Ashe pulled Allen away from the dog, turned the child to face him and knelt down on one knee. "We aren't going anywhere until Huckleberry wakes up. You and Deborah and I will keep watch over him."

Deborah gulped down the sobs when she saw the tentative little smile trembling on Allen's lips as he nodded his head.

Ashe glanced over at Dr. Carradine. "I'll bring in some chairs from the waiting room."

The doctor smiled. "I'll help you."

For what seemed like endless hours to Deborah, she and Ashe and Allen waited at Huckleberry's side, rising in fear each time the dog showed signs of going into another spasm. Dr. Carradine kept him medicated, and as the hours wore on, Deborah almost wished she, too, could be given an injection that would ease her pain. Watching the way Allen suffered tore at her heart the way nothing ever had. To watch her child hurting and know she could do nothing to ease his pain became unbearable.

Standing quickly, Deborah paced the floor. Allen had fallen asleep, his head resting in Ashe's lap. Deborah walked into the waiting room and looked out the windows. Evening had turned to night. The bright lights along Woodward Avenue sparkled like Christmas tree decorations. She glanced down at her watch. Ten-thirty.

Turning around, she walked back to the examining room, stopping in the doorway. Ashe was in the process of removing his jacket. He raised his leg just a fraction to give Allen's head a slight incline, then draped his jacket over the sleeping child. Covering her face with one hand, Deborah closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, asking God to save Huckleberry.

Ashe felt a hot fury rising inside him. A killing rage. Buck Stansell had no respect for animal life and little for human life. Buck's kind thought of animals as unfeeling, worthless creatures. Killing a dog would mean no more to him than flicking ashes off his cigarette.

Ashe adjusted his jacket around Allen, amazed how much he'd grown to care about Deborah's young brother. He had never been around children, had never allowed himself to think much about what it would be like to be a father. But he couldn't help wondering about how it would feel to have a son like Allen. The boy was intelligent and inquisitive and filled with a joy for life. He was sensitive and caring. In so many ways, Allen reminded Ashe of the young Deborah he had known and loved. Perhaps that was the reason he felt so close to Allen, so connected. Because he was so very much like Deborah.

Odd thing was, the boy reminded him of himself, too. Tall and lanky, with hands and feet almost too big for his body. He'd been the same as a kid. And cursed with being left-handed himself, he understood the adjustments Allen had had to make.

Ashe felt a twinge of sadness. Eleven years ago, he'd been thankful he hadn't gotten Deborah pregnant, but being around Allen so much these days had made him wonder if a child of theirs wouldn't have been a lot like Deborah's little brother.

For a couple of months after their passionate night down by the river, Ashe had worried about not having used any protection. But it had been an unfounded worry. By the time Wallace Vaughn had had him run out of town, Deborah would have known whether or not she was pregnant. And if she'd been carrying his child, she would have told him. Deborah had loved him, and she would have known that a child could have bound them together forever.

Deborah came in and sat down beside Ashe. Reaching out, he draped her shoulders with his arm and drew her close. She sighed.

"It's going to be all right, honey," Ashe said. "No way is God going to let that dog die and break Allen's heart."

She couldn't reply; instead she nodded and tried to smile. Closing her eyes, she relaxed against him.

Ashe sat there in the veterinarian's examining room, one arm holding Deborah possessively, the other laid protectively over Allen. As the hours passed, his leg fell asleep and his arms became stiff, but he didn't readjust his position. Both Allen and Deborah slept, as did Huckleberry.

Ashe closed his eyes for a few minutes, resting, then reopened them quickly when he heard movement from the examining table. Huckleberry opened his eyes and raised his head. No longer was his big body grossly contorted, but lay relaxed on the table.

Ashe gave Deborah a gentle shake. Opening her eyes, she glanced up at him. "Huckleberry's awake. Take a look."

"Oh, my God!" She jumped up out of the chair and ran toward the dog, taking his huge face in her hands. "Hey, there, big boy. You sure had us worried."

Ashe shook Allen, who groaned in his sleep. Ashe shook him again.

"What?"

"Wake up, son. Huckleberry wants to see you." Ashe lifted Allen in his arms and carried the boy across the room, sitting him down on the examining table beside his dog. "Go get Dr. Carradine," Ashe told Deborah.

She rushed out of the room. Allen hugged Huckleberry, who, though still groggy, raised his head and tried to sit up. "He's going to be all right!" Allen repeated the words several times, as if to convince himself.

Deborah returned with Dr. Carradine, who took a good look at Huckleberry and smiled. "Looks like we got lucky. I think Huckleberry will soon be as good as new."

The dog struggled to get up. Ashe lifted him off the table and set him on the floor. He staggered around slowly, like a drunken sailor. Sitting on the floor, Allen called his pet to him. The Lab padded over to the boy, who threw his arms around the big dog and hugged him.

"Why don't you folks go on home and get some rest," Dr. Carradine said. "Leave Huckleberry here until—" he glanced down at his watch "—it's after midnight. Well, I was going to say until tomorrow afternoon. Pick him up anytime after 2:00 p.m. today."

"If he's all right, why can't I take him home now?" Allen asked.

"Because Huckleberry needs some rest and so do you, young man." Dr. Carradine glanced at Deborah. "And so does your sister and Mr. McLaughlin. I have a feeling that if you take Huckleberry home now, all three of you would stay up the rest of the night with him."

"Come on, pal." Ashe leaned down to give Huckleberry a pat on the head. "Let's go home. Huckleberry is in good hands with Dr. Carradine. And I promise we'll pick him up at two o'clock."

Allen agreed reluctantly, giving Huckleberry a farewell hug before leaving.

Ashe carried Allen, who'd gone to sleep on the drive home, from the car into the house. The boy roused from his sleep and smiled at Ashe.

Allen yawned. "I'm not a baby. I can walk."

"Sure you can, pal," Ashe said.

He set Allen on his feet, then he and Deborah followed the child upstairs and into his room. Deborah spread back the covers. Allen's eyelids drooped. Curling up in the middle of the bed, he made no objections when Deborah removed his shoes, jeans and shirt. By the time she had stripped him down to his white cotton briefs, he had fallen fast asleep.

"He's all tired out," Ashe said. "He's been through almost as much as Huckleberry."

Deborah pulled up the covers, then sat down on the side of the bed. Allen was the dearest, most precious thing in her life. There wasn't a day that passed when she didn't want to tell him she was his mother, to claim him as her own. But she had agreed to this charade when she'd been eighteen and not strong enough to stand up to her father. He had told her she had two choices, either give Allen up for adoption or allow him to be raised as her brother.

If only she'd had the strength to tell her father to go to hell. If only she'd taken her child and found Ashe McLaughlin and forced him to face his responsibility as a father. But she'd done what was expected of her. She'd taken what others would consider the easy way out.

Deborah smoothed the loose strands of Allen's thick blond hair away from his face. Leaning over, she kissed his forehead, then stood.

Ashe watched her, the way she looked at Allen, the way she touched him. No one could doubt the depth of her love for the boy. if he didn't know better, he'd swear she was his mother instead of his sister. But then motherly love was not limited to mothers. Indeed his grandmother had loved and cared for him in a way his own mother never had.

But what if Deborah was Allen's mother? Was it possible? No, don't even consider the possibility, he warned himself. Idiotic thoughts like that could be dangerous to his sanity. He was letting his imagination run away with him.

Allen was Deborah's brother, Miss Carol's change-of-life baby. Any other explanation was out of the question. There was no way Deborah could have been pregnant and not told him. She wouldn't have kept something that important a secret.

Deborah, although lovely beyond words, looked tired. Drained. Sad. On the verge of renewed tears.

"Come on, honey, you need to get some rest." Turning off the light, he guided her out of Allen's room and down the hall.

"I need a bath before I go to bed," she said. "I'm filthy."

He walked her into her sitting room and gently shoved her down in the rocking chair. "Sit still and rest. I'll get your bath ready for you."

When she started to protest, Ashe laid his index finger over her lips, silencing her. She stared up at him, her eyes filled with such deep emotion that Ashe wanted to lift her into his arms. But he didn't. Instead he entered her bathroom and turned on the gold taps, letting the warm water flow into her claw-foot bathtub. Rummaging around in the antique chest beside the vanity, he found some perfumed bath oil and splashed it into the water flow. He laid out two huge, fluffy, blue towels and a crochet-edged wash cloth.

In Deborah's bedroom, he turned down her bed and then found her gown, neatly folded in a top dresser drawer. Pale pink silk, spaghetti straps, heavy white lace across the bodice and hem. After spreading the gown out across the foot of her bed, he flung the matching robe over his arm.

When he returned to the sitting room, she was rocking back and forth slowly, her eyes opening and closing, her chin nodding farther and farther toward her chest.

Before she could protest, he lifted her out of the rocker and into his arms. Her eyes flew open. She grabbed him around the neck to balance herself.

"What are you doing?" She stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Taking you to the bathroom."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking, you know."

"I like carrying you," he said. "It gives me an excuse to hold you in my arms."

She relaxed, allowing him to carry her. She felt completely safe and secure wrapped in Ashe's strong arms. When they passed through her bedroom, she noticed he had turned down her bed and laid out her gown. The gesture touched her, making her feel cherished and cared for in a way she couldn't remember being cared for since she was a child.

"Ashe?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for being so wonderful with Allen."

"It was easy. Allen is a great kid. He reminds me so much of you, Deborah. The way you were at his age."

And he reminds me of you, she wanted to say. Every time I look at him, I see you. The way he smiles. The way he rests the side of his face in his hand when he's pondering something. The expression on his face when he's trying to talk me into allowing him to do something he knows is against the rules.

Once in the bathroom, Ashe lowered Deborah to her feet, sliding her slowly down his body, his big hands holding her hips in place against him.

She felt his arousal, knew he wanted her. And heaven help her, she wanted him.

She pulled away, turning her back to him. "Thank you for everything." Bending over the tub, she turned off the faucet. "I can handle things from here on out. Good night, Ashe."

He whirled her around. She gasped when she saw the look of longing in his eyes. "Are you sending me away?"

"Yes, please, Ashe. Go."

"All right. If you're sure that's what you want."

"Yes, I'm sure." She really didn't want him to leave. She wanted him to stay, to undress her, to bathe her, to dry her damp skin and carry her to her bed.

Ashe ran the tip of his index finger down her cheek, then stepped back. "If you need me, you know where I'll be." He laid her pink silk robe on the vanity stool.

Looking down at the bathtub, she nodded. Ashe turned and left her alone. She closed the door behind him, and took a deep breath. She undressed quickly, throwing her clothes into a heap on the floor, then stepped into the bathtub and buried herself in the soft, scented water. Leaning her head back against the wall behind the tub, she closed her eyes and picked up the washcloth. Soaping the cloth, she ran it over her face, then rinsed by splashing water in her face. She slid the cloth down one arm and then the other. Lowering the soapy cloth to her breasts, her hand froze when the material made contact with her nipple, which jutted out to a peak.

She was aroused and aching. Aching to be with Ashe. Aching to open her arms and her body and take him in. But she didn't dare. For if she opened her heart to him, she would be lost

Hurriedly, she bathed, washed her hair and dried off, praying she would be able to find forgetfulness in sleep.

Chapter 9

« ^ »

Ashe stood at the window of his bedroom that looked down over the patio. The moonlight illuminated the autumn flowers and shrubs so lovingly cared for by the Vaughns' weekly gardener. Ashe sloshed around the brandy in his glass, took a sip and set the liquor down on the ornate antique table to the left of the window. He scratched his naked chest, then ran his hand across his stomach.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd ached so badly for a woman, and certainly not for one particular woman. Deborah Vaughn had insinuated herself into his mind so firmly that he couldn't shake her. She had become his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night. Not Deborah Vaughn his client, but Deborah the woman.

He'd made a mistake coming back to Sheffield, seeing Deborah again. He had walked away from her once, rejected her because he hadn't loved her the way she'd loved him. Now he wanted her as he had never wanted another woman. He burned with the need to possess her.

Ashe slipped on his leather loafers. Buttoning his open shirt, he walked out into the hall. He'd tried for nearly an hour to relax, to stop thinking about Deborah, to quit remembering how she'd felt in his arms when he'd carried her to her bath. But he couldn't forget.

He walked down the hallway, stopping at Allen's open door. Looking inside, he saw the boy sleeping soundly, his upper body uncovered. Ashe crept silently into the room and pulled the sheet and blanket up to cover Allen's shoulders. The little fellow had been through quite an ordeal. Ashe balled his hands into fists. Buck Stansell didn't deserve to live. But his kind always landed on their feet, always found a way to slip through the cracks in the legal system.

After leaving Allen's room, Ashe eased the door to Miss Carol's room ajar and peered inside. She slept peacefully. Deborah had told him that often her mother had to rely on sleeping pills in order to rest.

He opened Deborah's bedroom door. More than anything he wanted to find her awake, waiting for him, her arms open, imploring him to come to her. What he found was an empty bed, Deborah nowhere in sight. Where the hell was she?

He made his way down the stairs, checking each room, one by one, until he entered the library. A table lamp burned softly, casting gentle shadows over the woman sitting alone on the leather sofa, her feet curled beneath her. When he stepped inside the room, she turned her head and looked at him.

"Couldn't you sleep, either?" she asked.

"No."

Did she have any idea how beautiful she was, how irresistible she looked? Like a porcelain figure, all flawless creamy skin and pink silk clinging to her round curves, her long blond hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders.

He grew hard just looking at her, just smelling the scent of her bath oil clinging to her skin. He stood inside the open door. Waiting. Wanting. Needing.

"I can't believe I'm still wide awake." She looked at him with hunger in her eyes, and wondered if he realized how much she wanted him. "I'm exhausted and yet I feel as if I've had an extra dose of adrenaline."

"Yeah, me, too."

She stretched her back, leaning into the sofa Ashe caught his breath, the sight of her almost more than he could bear. Her firm breasts strained against the silk of her gown. Her full hips pressed into the soft leather cushions.

"I fixed myself a drink." She nodded to the partially full glass on the end table. "It didn't help."

"I did the same thing," he said. "I came down about thirty minutes ago and swiped some of your brandy."

"Obviously it didn't help you go to sleep." She clenched her hands, then unclenched them, repeating the process several times. She wished he hadn't come downstairs and found her alone and restless. He'd know she couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't make herself forget the feel of his arms around her, the strength of his arousal pressing against her.

"Since neither of us can sleep, how about taking a ride?" Holding his breath, he waited for her reply.

"A ride?" She scooted to the edge of the sofa, knowing there was more at stake than just a moonlight drive. "That sounds like a great idea." Standing, she smiled at him, then rushed past him and out into the hallway. "Give me a minute to put on some clothes," she said softly, then ran up the stairs.

He checked his back pocket for his wallet, then thought about his gun and holster lying on his nightstand. He hurried upstairs, retrieved his gun and put on his jacket, then walked down the hall to Simon Roarke's bedroom. He knocked softly. Within seconds Roarke cracked the door and peered out at him.

"What's up?"

"Deborah and I are going for a ride," Ashe said. "I wanted you to know I'd be out of the house for a while."

"Yeah, sure. No problem." Simon grinned, something the man didn't do often.

"Don't go reading anything into this." Ashe turned to leave.

Opening the door, Roarke laid his hand on Ashe's shoulder, gripping him firmly. "She's the one, isn't she?"

Ashe stiffened at his friend's words. "The one what?"

"The one you told me about that night six months ago when we both got stinking drunk and wound up crying all over each other."

Ashe didn't like to remember that night; he'd thought Roarke would never remind him. "Yeah, she's the one."

Pulling away, Ashe ran his hand through his hair, straightened his jacket and headed downstairs. He paced the marble-floored entrance hall until Deborah descended the stairs wearing a pair of olive green cotton twill pants and a baggy cotton sweater in an olive-and-cream stripe.

"Let's go," she said, her chest rising and falling with quick, panting little breaths.

"You want to take your Caddy or my rental car?"

She tossed him a set of keys. "The Caddy."

He slipped his arm around her waist and they rushed outside, the cool night air assaulting them the minute they opened the door.

"I should get you a set of keys to the Caddy," she said as he helped her inside.

He leaned down, giving her a quick kiss, then closed the passenger door and raced around to the other side of the car.

He knew where he was going to take her; he'd known the minute he'd suggested the ride. It hadn't been a premeditated idea, just something that hit him in a flash. In the dark confines of the car, he could hear her breathing, could smell that heady scent of flowery bath oil mixed with the musty scent of woman. He started the Caddy and backed out of the drive.

She waited for him to ask her where she wanted to go. He didn't ask. It didn't take her long to realize the direction in which he was headed. Dear God, no! Surely he wasn't taking her there. Was he that insensitive? Didn't he realize she'd never been back since that night?

The road leading down to the river was dark, lonesome and flanked on both sides by heavily wooded areas. Deborah closed her eyes, shutting out the sight, clenching her teeth in an effort not to scream. How could he do this to her!

"Please take me home." Her voice wavered slightly.

"I thought you wanted to take a ride." He kept his gaze focused on the view ahead of him.

"I don't want to go down to the river."

"Why not?"

"You know damn well why not."

"I want you to tell me." He glanced at her and wished he hadn't. Her face was barely visible in the moonlight, but he could feel the tension in her body and make out the anger etched on her features.

"Take me home, Ashe. Now!"

He continued driving toward the river. "It's time we talked. Really talked. We need to clear up a few things before we make love."

"Before we make… Why, you arrogant bastard! You think you're going to take me down to the river and screw me again and then walk out of my life and never look back. Well, you'd better think again. I'm not some lovesick teenager who believes in fairy tales."

"No, you're not." He pulled the Cadillac off the road and onto a narrow dirt lane surrounded by trees. "You're a woman who wants to be made love to very badly, and I'm the man who is dying to love you."

When he reached out to touch her, she jerked away from him. "Don't. I don't want you. Do you hear me? I do not want you."

"Honey, stop lying to yourself. Do you think I like knowing I'm so hung up on you I can't think about anything else? Do you honestly think you're the only one with bad memories about that night?"

"Oh, I know all about your bad memories!" Whipping around in the seat, she faced him. "You let your anger with Whitney and your need for a woman overcome your better judgment, and you screwed me. Then afterward you were filled with regret."

He jerked her into his arms, lowered his head and whispered against her lips. "Stop saying I screwed you, dammit! It wasn't like that and you know it. I made love to you, Deborah."

Struggling to free herself, she laughed in his face. "You didn't make love to me, you sc—"

He kissed her hard and fast, adeptly silencing her. She pulled away as much as he would allow and glared at him.

"Maybe I wasn't in love with you," he admitted. "But I did love you. I'd loved you since we were kids. You were one of my best friends."

The tears welled up inside her; her chest ached from restraint. This was what she didn't want—what she couldn't bear. "All right. We made love. But you regretted it. You said it could never happen again."

"I cared too much about you to hurt you by pretending there could be more for us. I felt like a heel, but I did what I thought was best for you."

She took a deep breath. "I hated you after that night, you know. But all the while I swore to myself I despised you, I kept praying you'd come and tell me you loved me. I was such a fool."

"And when two months went by and I didn't come to you, you decided to get revenge. All that love turned to hate so quickly."

"What are you talking about? I admit I thought about how I'd like to toss you into a pool of piranhas, but that's as far as my seeking revenge went." She scooted away from him when he loosened his hold on her. "Besides, you didn't stick around long enough for me to plot any elaborate revenge schemes."

"You don't call siccing your daddy on me revenge?"

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth on a silent gasp, then shook her head. "What—what do you mean, siccing my daddy on you?"

"Are you pretending you've forgotten or are you trying to tell me you honestly don't know what I'm talking about?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said.

"Then let me refresh your memory." Turning sideways, Ashe leaned his back against the door, crossed his arms over his chest and rested his head on the side window. "About two months after our night down here—" moving his head from side to side, he glanced out at the starlit sky, the dark waters of the Tennessee River and the towering trees tipped with moonlight "—the police chief hauled my rear end downtown. And who do you think was waiting for us when we got to the police station?"

Deborah's stomach did a nervous flip-flop. "Daddy?"

"Bingo! Wallace Vaughn himself, fit to be tied and ready to string me up for raping his little girl."

"Raping!" The blood soared through Deborah, her heartbeat wild, the pounding beat deafening to her own ears.

"Yeah, that was my reaction," Ashe said, uncertain whether to accept Deborah's shock at face value or remain suspicious. "But the D.A. was there with your daddy and he assured me that they weren't kidding. They were accusing me of rape, and when I told them that the charge would never stick, they both laughed in my face."

"I had no idea Daddy could have done anything so—"

"You didn't go crying to your Daddy?" All these years he had been so sure Deborah had lied to her father, that she had made him believe that, at the very least, Ashe had seduced her, and at the worst, had taken her by brute force.

"I didn't tell my father anything." Deborah scooted to the far side of the car, her back up against the door, she and Ashe glaring at each other in the semidarkness.

"Why the hell lie to me now?" He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. God, help him, he never thought he would feel such bitter anger again, that confronting her with what she'd done would resurrect the hatred he'd felt—for Wallace Vaughn, for the whole town of Sheffield, and, yes, for Deborah herself.

Deborah lifted her feet up on tiptoes, tensing her legs as she ran her hands up and down the tops of her thighs. "I never told Daddy about our … about our making love that night. I told my mother." I had to tell her. I was seventeen and pregnant by a man who didn't love me or want me. I didn't know what else to do.

"You told Miss Carol?"

"I needed someone to talk to about what had happened." About the fact that I was carrying your child. "Who else would I have gone to other than my own mother?"

"Did you tell your mother that I'd forced you?" Cold shivers covered Ashe like a blanket of frost spreading across the earth on a winter night.

"No. I told my mother the truth, all of it. She'd known, of course, that I'd left the country club with you that night and she knew why."

"I'm surprised your father didn't hunt us down."

"He didn't know I was with you. He didn't see me leave," Deborah said. "Mother told him I was spending the night with a girlfriend after the engagement party."

"I know Miss Carol often kept the complete truth from your father in order to maintain peace, so why did she feel it necessary to tell him about what had happened between you and me that night?"

Because I was pregnant! "I was very upset, very unhappy. Mother thought she was doing the right thing by telling Daddy. She couldn't have known what he'd do. And I never knew anything about what he did. Obviously, Daddy realized what a mistake he'd made. You were never arrested. If you had been, I would have told the truth. I would have made them understand that what happened that night was my fault, not yours."

"Deborah?"

"Well, it was, wasn't it? I mean, I did throw myself at you and practically beg you to make love to me, didn't I?"

"If I'd been more of a man and less a boy that night, I'd have turned you down and saved us both a lot of misery."

"And that's what the memory of that night has been for you, hasn't it, a misery?" Deborah shut her eyes, capturing her tears beneath closed lids.

Dear God, no! The results had been a misery, but not that night. Never that night! "No, honey, that's not true. The memory of that night is bittersweet for me."

"More bitter than sweet." Swallowing her tears, she lowered her head, wrapped one arm across her stomach and cupped the side of her face in her other hand. "That's why you left town, wasn't it? To get away from me?"

"I left town because your father and the D.A. gave me no other choice." Ashe slid across the seat, grabbed Deborah by the shoulders and shook her gently several times. "Look at me, dammit." With her head still bowed, she raised her eyes to meet his. "Your father told me that if I didn't leave town and never come back, he'd make sure I did time for rape. He wanted me out of your life for good."

"No, he wouldn't have… He knew. Oh, Ashe, he knew."

"He knew what?" Ashe gripped her shoulders, tightening his hold when she didn't immediately respond.

"He knew I was—" She'd almost said pregnant with your baby. "He knew I loved you, that I would never have testified against you, that I would have made a fool of myself to protect you."

A searing pain ripped through Ashe, the hot, cauterizing pain of truth, killing the festering infection of lies and suspicions, preventing him from clinging to past resentments.

"Dear God, Deborah. All these years I've thought…" He pulled her into his arms. She trembled, and he knew she was on the verge of tears, that she was holding them in check, being strong. He stroked her back; she laid her head on his chest.

She had not betrayed him. She hadn't even told her father, only her mother. She had never accused him of forcing her or seducing her. Lies. All lies. Wallace Vaughn's lies to force Ashe out of Deborah's life. Had the old man been that afraid that sooner or later Ashe would destroy Deborah's life?

Ashe found himself kissing the side of her face, along her hairline, one hand continuing to stroke her back while he threaded the fingers of his other hand through her hair, caressing her tenderly.

"Have you hated me all these years, Ashe?" she asked, her voice a whisper against his chest.

"I've hated you. I've hated myself. Hell, I've hated just about everyone and everything associated with my past." When she gazed up at him, he dotted her forehead with kisses. "But I never hated what we shared that night, the feelings inside me when we made love. It had never been like that for me before." He swallowed hard. "And it's never been that way for me again. Not ever."

"Oh, Ashe." She slipped her arms around him, burrowing her body into his, seeking and finding a closer joining.

He took her mouth like a dying man clinging to life, as if without the taste of her he could not go on. She accepted the kiss, returning it full measure, her hands clawing at his back, inching their way up beneath his jacket, yanking his shirt from his slacks, making contact with his naked flesh. Ashe thrust his tongue deeper into her mouth, their tongues mating furiously.

Breathless, their lips separated, but they clung to each other, Deborah unbuttoning Ashe's shirt, Ashe lifting Deborah's sweater up and under her arms.

"I've wanted you since that first day I came back to town." He nuzzled her neck with his nose as he lifted his hand to her lace-covered breast. "I've called myself every kind of fool, but nothing's eased this ache inside me."

She curled her index finger around a swirl of dark chest hair, then leaned over to kiss one tiny nipple. Ashe groaned. "I hated you for making me want you again," she said. "I swore no one would ever hurt me the way you did, and here I am throwing myself at you again as if I were seventeen."

"No, honey, no." He took her face in both his hands, looking deep into her eyes, smiling his irresistible smile. "This works both ways. I want you and you want me. Neither of us are kids. We're two responsible adults who are as frustrated as hell."

She laughed. "Ashe, I don't know if I can handle this, what I'm feeling. It scares me. It scares me more now than it did when I was seventeen." She circled his neck with her arms, pressing her cheek against his. "When I was seventeen I was so in love with you that nothing we did seemed wrong. I didn't know the first thing about sex. Now … well, now I'm aching with wanting you. It's different now. It's—"

"It's right this time, honey," he said against her lips. "No fairy tales, no declarations of undying love, just a man and a woman who want each other desperately. Mutual desire."

"Yes." She nodded. "Mutual desire." You're wrong, she wanted to shout. It isn't all that different now. I'm still in love with you and you still don't return that love.

"Let's vanquish all those bad memories," he said. "Let's lay the past to rest. Tonight."

His kiss was less frantic this time, more tender and giving, yet as hot and needy as the one before. There was no way to make him understand that she could never lay the past to rest, that Allen was the embodiment of that night so long ago when a young and foolish girl had given herself to a man who didn't love her.

Ashe held her in his arms, burying his face in her neck, breathing in the sweet fragrance of her hair. "We can't make love back at your house and I know you don't want to make love here, in the car, the way we did that night. Where can we go, honey? A motel room seems cheap and I want this night to be special for you—for us."

"You're wrong about my not wanting to make love here and now, in the car," she said. "I do."

"Why would you want to—"

"I'm not sure I can explain how I feel, but… Well, it would somehow validate that first time. I know it sounds crazy, but… I need for us to make love here, now, in the car, the way we did that night when… Please, Ashe, make love to me."

"That's exactly what you said to me that night." And damn his rotten soul, he hadn't been able to resist her. She had been the sweetest temptation he'd ever known—and she still was.

"I guess I'm still begging." A lone tear escaped her eye and trickled down her cheek.

Ashe kissed the teardrop. "No, Deborah, I'm the one doing the begging this time. I'm the one who'll die if I can't have you. I'm the one willing to do anything to make you happy, to see you smile, to make your forget."

He actually remembered every word she'd said to him that night when she'd told him she wanted to make him happy, wanted to make him forget Whitney, wanted to make him smile again. She had pleaded with him to make love to her, saying she'd die if he didn't.

"You remember what I said."

"Every word." He lifted her sweater up and off, tossing it into the back seat, then unhooked her bra and eased it off her shoulders. "And I remember how you looked and how you felt." He covered both breasts with his hands and planted a row of kisses from her collarbone to her shoulder. "And the smell of you. My sweet, innocent Deborah."

He licked the tip of her breast; she moaned. He unsnapped and unzipped her slacks; she shoved his jacket off his shoulders. Ashe removed his shoulder holster, laying it on the dashboard before removing his shirt.

She kissed his chest, tiny, loving nicks. He tugged her slacks down and off her legs, throwing them on top of her sweater. She shivered when he dipped his hand beneath the elastic of her silky panties and cupped her buttocks, lifting her up and over him as he slid down onto the seat, his head braced against the armrest on the door.

While he suckled at her breasts, his fingers delved between the delicate folds of her body, finding the sensitive, hidden peak. She unzipped his trousers and reached inside to cover his arousal with the palm of her hand. Their kisses grew hotter, harder, longer, as they moved to the rhythm of nature's mating music, their bodies straining for closer and closer contact.

Lifting his hips, Ashe removed his wallet, then tugged his trousers downward and kicked them into the floorboard. "I'm dying," he groaned. "I wanted to wait, to take more time, to—"

Leaning over him, she covered his mouth, silencing him with the fury of her kiss. He ran his hands up and down, over her shoulders, down her back, pulling at her panties until she helped him remove them. He eased her over and onto her back, drawing her body beneath his as he ripped off his briefs, sheathed himself and positioned her for his possession.

"Now, honey? Now!" He was fast losing control.

"Yes, now!"

He plunged into her, lifting her hips, delving deep and hard. She gripped his shoulders, rising to meet his demands. Sliding her legs up his until she reached his hips, she whispered his name over and over, telling him with the tone of her voice and little moans of pleasure that she was near the brink. He didn't want this to end, wanted it to go on forever, but knew he couldn't last much longer. The pleasure was too great, too intense to slow the upward spiral toward completion.

"It's too good, honey. Too good."

He felt her tightening around him. She clasped him like a tight fist. Crying out, she quivered in his arms as spasm after spasm of fulfillment racked her body. His release came hard and fast, shaking him to the core of his being.

He cried out, losing himself in her, kissing her as they shivered from the aftershocks of such a powerful loving.

Lifting himself, Ashe pulled Deborah up off the seat and into his arms, holding her against him, listening to her rapid breathing.

"I want to make love to you again," he told her. "Tonight. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow."

She didn't say anything; she couldn't. She knew he was telling her that, this time, there would be no rejection and no regrets. She lifted her face to him, glorying in the feel of his arms around her, the passion in his consuming kiss.

Dawn spread a honeyed pink glow across the horizon. When Ashe parked the Caddy in the driveway, Deborah awoke. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she smiled.

"It's 5:40," he said. "Mazie is going to be up and about any time now."

"Think she'll catch us sneaking in?"

"Would you care if she does?" Ashe opened the car door and assisted Deborah. Wrapping his arm around her, he led her to the front door.

"She'd probably be shocked. She's not used to me sneaking into the house at all hours."

Ashe unlocked the door. They walked into the entrance hall, arm in arm. "What do you usually do, stay overnight at your lover's house?"

Shadowy morning light coming through the windows illuminated the stairs. Deborah stopped dead still in the middle of the staircase.

"I haven't had any lovers," she said, then pulled out of Ashe's arms and ran up to the landing.

He caught her just as she flung open her sitting room door, whirling her around to face him, pulling her into his arms. "What do you mean you haven't had any lovers?"

"There's never been anyone else. Only you." Lowering her head, she looked down at the floor.

He lifted her chin in the curve of his thumb and forefinger. "Honey, I—"

"I never fell in love again, that's all. I hoped that sooner or later the right guy would come along and I'd be ready, but it just didn't happen."

"Just Mr. Wrong again, huh?"

"No, Ashe, not Mr. Wrong. Just not Mr. Right." She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him, then stepped back and smiled. "This time we're lovers. Remember? Mutual desire?"

"You'd better get in your room and lock me out or we'll be right in the middle of some mutual desire any minute now."

"Good night, then." She laughed. "Or should I say good morning."

"Next time, we're going to have to find some place else to make love." He rubbed the small of his back. "I'm too old to do it in a car, even a big Caddy."

"Next time," she whispered to herself. Next time. She knew she would never be able to resist him and that for him this was only an affair. But not for her. She was already so in love with Ashe McLaughlin she couldn't bear for him to leave her.

He kissed her with a passion that told her that even if he wasn't in love with her, leaving her was as difficult for him as it was for her. Releasing her, he shoved her into her room and closed the door. She took a deep breath, turned and raced into her bedroom, falling in a heap on her bed. Hugging herself, she rolled into a ball and closed her eyes.

This was what she had dreaded since the moment she'd walked in and saw Ashe talking to her mother in the living room. And, if she was honest with herself, this was what she had wanted to happen. No matter how hard she had tried to deny it, she still loved Ashe McLaughlin. She had never truly stopped loving him.

What on earth was she going to do now? She had rushed headlong into an affair with her son's father. How could she continue lying to Ashe, keeping the truth about his child from him? The longer she waited to tell him, the more difficult it would be—for both of them. But did she dare tell him? Would he understand? Or would he hate her for keeping his son from him all these years?

Chapter 10

« ^ »

"Please, tell us, Ms. Vaughn, what happened when you took that wrong turn off Cotton Lane?" the district attorney asked.

"I realized I'd gotten off on the wrong road and was looking for a place to turn around." Deborah sat straight, her hands folded in her lap. "I noticed a truck pulled off the road. One man jumped out of the truck, but I couldn't see his face. There were two other men behind the truck, one holding a gun to the other's head."

Deborah's stomach tightened into a knot; she gripped her damp hands together. Glancing out into the courtroom she sought Ashe. Their gazes met and held. She took a deep breath.

"Are you all right, Ms. Vaughn?" District Attorney Jim Bitterman spoke softly, his voice a light tenor, a distinct contrast to his rugged, almost ugly face and wiry, muscular body.

"Yes." Deborah kept her vision focused on Ashe for several seconds longer, gaining strength from his presence.

"Will you continue, please?"

"The man holding the gun was Lon Sparks."

"Objection, your honor," the defense attorney, Leland Prater shouted, rising from his seat and moving his short, rotund body around the desk. "Ms. Vaughn was not acquainted with Mr. Sparks and therefore could hardly have recognized him."

"Ms. Vaughn later identified Mr. Sparks from a photograph, your honor," Jim Bitterman said.

"Overruled," Judge Heath said.

"Please continue." District Attorney Bitterman stood directly in front of Deborah. "Tell the jury what you saw."

"Lon Sparks shot the man in the head." Deborah closed her eyes momentarily, the memory of that dreadful sight closing in around her, filling her with the sense of fear she'd known in those horrific seconds when she'd witnessed the murder.

Jim Bitterman allowed her to continue recalling the events at her own pace. Leland Prater, long known as an old bag of wind and one of the most crooked lawyers in the area, objected every chance he got, deliberately unnerving Deborah as much as possible. But she did not waver in her testimony, not even when Prater cross-examined her.

She'd been warned, by Jim and by Ashe, that Prater's strategy would be to bring her to tears, show her to be a highly emotional, hysterical woman, who had allowed her hysteria and fear to wrongly identify Lon Sparks.

Not one tear fell from her eyes. Not one shrill word escaped her lips. When her nerves rioted, she took deep breaths and looked to Ashe, seeking and finding the strength she needed to do the job she and she alone could do.

When she was dismissed, Deborah stepped down and walked slowly toward Ashe, who stood and waited for her. He slipped his arm around her and led her out of the courtroom. Even the bevy of reporters flinging questions at her did not disturb the serenity she felt as Ashe led her downstairs and out of the courthouse.

Neither of them said a word until they were safely inside Deborah's car. Ashe buckled her seat belt, kissed her on the nose and smiled at her.

"It's over." She sighed. "It's really over."

"Yeah, honey, it's over." But Ashe wasn't sure. Not one incident of harassment had occurred since Huckleberry's poisoning two days ago, and that made Ashe all the more suspicious. Buck Stansell should have escalated his threats the closer the day came for Deborah to testify. But he hadn't. He hadn't done anything. Did that mean he was waiting to take revenge? Hell!

Deborah checked her watch. "We have time to make the last half of Allen's soccer game, don't we?"

"That's where I'm headed." Ashe maneuvered the Caddy out of the parking lot and onto Water Street.

Leaning against the cushioned headrest, Deborah closed her eyes. Ashe reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. She smiled, but didn't open her eyes or speak. She felt such a great sense of relief.

She had done the right thing, despite being afraid. She had faced the devil—and won! Now, all she had to face were her own personal demons, the biggest lie in her life. She'd had the courage to stand up against Buck Stansell and his gang, but did she have the guts to tell Ashe the truth about Allen? She knew now that she'd been wrong to keep his son's existence a secret from him all these years. Despite her own feelings, her deep sense of betrayal and rejection, she should have contacted Ashe long ago. Mama Mattie would have given her his phone number or address if only she'd asked.

But what would telling Ashe the truth now do to their new relationship? Although he had promised her nothing permanent, had made no commitment to her, she knew he truly cared about her. She, and she alone, was the woman he wanted. Would it be so wrong to wait, to take what time she had left with Ashe and savor the joy she felt, the mutual passion and desire?

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Ashe parked the Cadillac behind a row of cars lined up along the shoulder of Avalon Avenue, west of the railroad tracks that separated Muscle Shoals from Tuscumbia and Sheffield.

"The worst is over. Right? There's no reason why I can't resume my normal activities, is there?"

"Deborah…" Dear God, he didn't want to tell her that he thought the worst might not be over, that the worst might be yet to come. But he would not lie to her. "We can't be sure what Buck Stansell might do if Lon Sparks is convicted."

"You're saying it isn't over." She clutched her shoulder bag to her stomach. "You think he might try to kill me after the trial ends, don't you?"

"There's no way to know." Ashe grasped her shoulder, urging her to turn to him. "But my guess is that you're safe until the jury reaches a verdict."

She leaned toward him, wanting to fall into his arms, wanting and needing his comfort and reassurance. But this was hardly the time or the place. "Then I'm going to try not to think about it, for now. I don't know how much more Mother and Allen can take. I can't bear to think what it would have done to Allen if Huckleberry had died."

"Don't think about it. Huckleberry is as good as new," Ashe said. "Come on, let's go cheer for the home team."

Deborah and Ashe joined Carol Vaughn and Simon Roarke on the sidelines of a tense soccer game between two sets of ten- to twelve-year-olds. Carol had built herself a comfortable nest around her folding lawn chair. She sat with a plaid blanket wrapped about her legs, a thermos of hot coffee at her side. Roarke stood directly behind her chair, his gaze moving around the crowd, then back to the soccer game where Allen Vaughn raced down the field, his long, strong legs moving with agile grace.

Roarke stepped aside when Deborah laid her hand on her mother's shoulder. Ashe nodded, motioning to Roarke.

"How's the game going?" Deborah asked.

"We're ahead," Carol said. "Two to one."

Deborah glanced at the sky. "It's getting cloudy and the wind's up. I hope it doesn't start raining."

"Where's your coat?" Carol asked.

"I didn't wear one today. Just my suit. But don't worry, I'm fine."

"Mothers worry."

"I'm okay. Really. Everything is going to be all right."

Ashe and Roarke moved away from the crowd, close enough to keep an eye on everyone and yet far enough away to have a private discussion.

"We're going to be staying for at least another couple of weeks," Ashe said. "If we're lucky, this will be over when the trail ends, but my gut instincts tell me not to count on it."

"A man could do a lot worse than living around here, spending the rest of his life in a small town." Roarke's dark gaze came to a halt on Allen Vaughn as the boy kicked the ball past the goalie and scored a point for his team.

Ashe slapped Roarke on the back. "Did you see that? Damn that boy's good. He's big and fast and strong and a real fighter. Look at his face. Good God, how I know that feeling. He's lightheaded from the victory."

"He reminds me of you," Roarke said.

"What?"

"Allen Vaughn reminds me of you."

"Hell, he's just like Deborah. They could be twins."

"I know he looks like Deborah, but the more I'm around the kid, the more he reminds me of you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ashe watched Allen, seeing nothing except his blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong physical resemblance to Deborah.

"When did you leave Sheffield and join the army?"

"When did I… Eleven years ago."

"When exactly?"

"In July."

Grunting, Roarke nodded. "Allen Vaughn was born in February. Seven months after you left town."

"So?"

"Has it never once crossed your mind that you might have gotten Deborah pregnant, that Allen could be your son?"

Ashe's body rebelled, tensing every muscle, bringing every nerve to full alert, knotting his stomach painfully. "She would have told me. Deborah never would have kept something like that from me. She was in love with me. If she'd been pregnant with my child, she would have come running to me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, dammit, I'm sure!"

"Then forget I said anything."

"I sure as hell will." Ashe glared at his friend, a man he had come to like and respect since their first meeting over a year ago. Roarke stood eye to eye with Ashe, the two equal in height and size, broad-shouldered, long-legged. Roarke, like Ashe himself, a former warrior, still in his prime.

"You want me to give Sam a call tonight and let him know we'll be staying … indefinitely?" Roarke asked.

"No. This is my case. I'll call Sam." Ashe watched Allen, inspecting his every move with an analytical eye, searching for evidence to substantiate Roarke's suspicion. "I'll let him know we could be here for a few more weeks. Once I know Deborah is safe, we'll head back to Atlanta."

Dammit! Why couldn't Roarke have kept his suspicions to himself? They were totally unfounded. They had to be! Not getting Deborah pregnant that long-ago night was the one and only thing Ashe hadn't had to feel guilty about all these years. Allen Vaughn was Deborah's brother, not her son. Most certainly not his son. No way in hell!

Dinner had been a double celebration. Deborah's court appearance was over and Allen Vaughn had once again scored the winning goal that led his team to victory.

Deborah and Ashe had allowed her family to believe the danger was over; indeed, Deborah convinced herself that there was hope all the threats and harassment had come to an end.

She had sensed a tension in Ashe she hadn't noticed before tonight. He kept watching Allen and his close scrutiny unnerved her. Did he suspect something? Or was he simply worrying that Buck Stansell still posed a threat to her family, that Allen might be the target of the man's revenge?

But then Ashe would look at her and his eyes would warm, his expression telling her plainly that he was remembering their lovemaking in the early morning hours. Yesterday. Less than forty-eight hours ago.

"I'm afraid I must say good-night." Carol rose from her chair in the library. "Come along, Allen. It's a half hour past your bedtime."

"How about coming up with me, Ashe?" Allen asked. "You said you wanted to see my science test."

"You bet I do. I want to see what you did to get 105% on that test instead of just a plain old 100%." Ashe laid his hand on Allen's shoulder and the two followed Miss Carol.

"Are you staying down here for a while?" Carol asked her daughter.

"Yes, I think I'll fix myself a drink and relax a bit before I come up."

"Don't forget to say good-night," Allen called out from the hallway.

"I won't forget."

Alone in the library, Deborah kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up on the sofa. Suddenly she felt the man's presence before she heard him clear his throat. Jerking her head around, she saw Simon Roarke standing in the doorway.

"Come on in, Mr. Roarke," Deborah said. "Would you care for a drink?"

"No, thanks." He walked over to the liquor cart. "May I fix something for you?"

"Just a little brandy."

Roarke poured the liquor and handed it to Deborah. "This about right?"

"Perfect." Deborah looked up at Simon Roarke, thinking, and not for the first time, that there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Please, sit down and talk to me."

"What do you want to talk about, Ms. Vaughn?"

"Call me Deborah. And I'd like to ask you about your friendship with Ashe."

Roarke sat in the wing chair to Deborah's left. "We've known each other a year. We have similar backgrounds and found we worked well together and enjoyed spending some of our off time together."

"You were in the army, too?"

"Yeah."

"How long have you worked for the Dundee Agency?"

"Over two years."

"You aren't married?"

"No."

"Girlfriend?" Deborah asked.

"Neither Ashe nor I are in a committed relationship, if that's what you're asking. I'm sure he's told you that."

Deborah smiled. "I'm not very good at this, am I? Cross-examining you to get information about Ashe isn't something I'd ordinarily do, but—"

"But you're curious about Ashe. Why don't you just ask him what you want to know?"

"Yes, that would be the logical thing to do, wouldn't it?" Deborah slid her feet off the sofa and back into her shoes. "Did he tell you that we knew each other, years ago?"

"Yes."

"You aren't making this easy for me, Mr. Roarke."

"Just Roarke," he said. "I'm afraid I can't tell you what you want to know. I'm not sure Ashe can tell you. He probably doesn't even know himself."

"Is it that obvious?" Deborah clasped her knees with her fingertips. "I made a mistake about the way Ashe felt about me once, and I don't want to make another mistake."

"You're talking to the wrong man. I can't speak for Ashe." Roarke grunted, then chuckled softly. "Hell, I'm a failure when it comes to figuring out the way other people feel and think. I'm thirty-five. I'm alone, and I'll be alone the rest of my life. Ashe is different. He's not so far gone, the right woman couldn't save him."

Deborah took a sip of the brandy, then set the glass aside. "I like you, Roarke. I—"

"Allen is waiting for you to come up." Ashe stood in the doorway, a rather comical look of jealousy on his face.

Deborah couldn't suppress a gurgle of laughter from escaping. Standing, Roarke took a couple of steps, leaned over, lifted Deborah's hand and kissed it. "I like you, too, Deborah." He walked past Ashe without glancing his way.

"What the hell was that all about?" Ashe asked.

"I was pumping Roarke for information about you."

"That's not what it sounded like when I walked in. Sounded more like a mutual admiration society."

Deborah stood and walked over to Ashe, slipped her arm around his neck and pressed her body into his. "I like your friend Roarke." She rubbed herself against Ashe. "But not the same way I like you."

Ashe jerked her up against him and his lips covered hers, claiming her with demanding possession. Breathing hard, they ended the kiss, but held each other close.

"I want to make love to you," he said. "Is there any way we can slip off somewhere? Anywhere?"

"Let me go up and say good night to Allen, then I'll meet you in the pool house in thirty minutes."

"The pool house? Out back?"

"Yes. We'll have all the privacy we want out there."

Ashe laughed. "I don't know if I can wait thirty minutes."

"Let's make it twenty minutes," she said, pulling out of his arms.

"You aren't afraid someone will find us out, using the pool house as a rendezvous?"

"I really don't care, do you?"

"No, honey, I don't give a damn who knows we're lovers."

Deborah saw the light in the pool house from where she stood on the back patio. Soft, shimmering light. Candles? Had Ashe found the candles left over from the last pool party they'd given back in the summer, the one for her mother's garden club friends?

She straightened her green satin robe, readjusted the quilted lapels and tightened the sash belt. She told herself not to be nervous, that she had no reason to be. After all, it wasn't as if she were a seventeen-year-old virgin.

Who was she kidding? She might not be a totally inexperienced teenager, but she was hardly accustomed to late night rendezvous in the pool house with a virile, amorous lover. She couldn't believe she was actually going to do this. But then she had never dreamed that she and Ashe would become lovers. Truly lovers.

She walked slowly toward the pool house, her heart hammering, her nerves quivering, her body filled with anticipation. Music met her as she hesitated in the doorway. An instrumental version of "The Shadow of Your Smile" surrounded her. Apparently he'd found the tape player and the stack of her mother's favorite tunes on cassettes. He stood inside waiting for her, two glasses of wine in his hand. He held out one to her when she entered the small octagon-shaped shelter, centered directly behind the swimming pool.

Ashe had changed into a pair of faded jeans and a zippered fleece jacket. He looked incredible. All muscle and firm flesh, tanned and lean and waiting for her.

She accepted the wine. He nodded toward the padded poolside chaise longue that had been stored for the winter. Seating herself, she glanced around inside the twelve-by-twelve-foot room. A dozen fat pink and yellow candles, half consumed on a previous occasion, circled the inner perimeter, casting a mellow, romantic glow over the room.

"To the most beautiful woman in the world." Ashe saluted her with his glass.

Her smile wavered, but she managed to keep it in place after she took a sip of the white wine. "You're beautiful, too, you know. You always were. The most beautiful boy, the most beautiful man. I never could see anyone else except you."

Hurriedly she downed the remainder of the wine. The tune changed to "What Are You Doing for the Rest of Your Life?" She'd heard her mother hum these old tunes for as long as she could remember. They were such romantic songs, meant to be shared by lovers.

Ashe took her empty glass. "Want a refill?"

"No." She looked up at him. "I don't dare drink any more. I'm already drunk from just looking at you."

He set their glasses on a small round glass and metal table, then took Deborah's hands and lifted her to her feet. Drawing her into his arms, he rubbed his cheek against hers and danced her slowly around the room.

"You don't have any idea what your honesty does to me, do you?" He caught her open mouth before she could reply, thrusting his tongue inside, loving the taste of the wine that lingered in her mouth.

When he ended the kiss, he smiled when he saw her face. Eyes closed, face flushed, she was so beautiful it tore at his heart to look at her. "I can't believe how much I want you."

"Oh, Ashe, I never dreamed this could happen, that you and I… But it's real, isn't it? We're here, together. Lovers."

"Lovers, in every sense of the word." Reaching down, he loosened her sash belt until her robe fell open. Seeing that she was naked beneath the green satin, he swallowed hard. "My God, Deborah!"

Her shaky fingers grasped the metal pull on his jacket zipper and opened the hooded blue sweatshirt. She laid her hand on his chest. He covered her hand with his.

"I don't really know anything about this. I don't have any experience. Teach me, Ashe. Show me what you want."

"Take off my jacket," he said.

She obeyed, sliding it off his shoulders and tossing it on the floor. "Now what?"

"Remove my jeans."

Without hesitation, she unsnapped, unzipped and tugged off his jeans. He kicked his shoes off and to one side, then spread the satin robe away from her body, allowing it to fall to her feet.

They stood, only inches separating them, naked and unashamed, passion wild within them both. He took her hands in his, lifted them for a kiss, then placed them on his chest before lifting her in his arms.

Ashe was magnificent. Big, tall and lean. He carried her back to the chaise, but set her on her feet.

"Night before last we were so hungry for each other, we didn't take the time to savor the moment. Not the first time nor the second time. Tonight, I want to learn every inch of your body, and I want you to know every inch of mine."

"Whatever you want, Ashe." She moved closer, her breasts brushing against his hair-rough chest. She gulped down a sigh as shivers of pleasure shimmied through her.

"No, honey. Whatever you want." He cupped her buttocks, bringing her completely up against him, letting her feel his arousal, telling her, even without words, how much he wanted her.

"I just want you, Ashe." She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. "I just want you."

He kissed her until she was breathless, then he painted a trail of warm, moist kisses across her shoulder and down to one breast. All the while he caressed her hip with his other hand. She quivered, then cried out when he suckled her breast. Her knees weakened. He stayed at her breast long enough to have her panting, then knelt on bended knee and delved his tongue into her navel at the precise moment his fingers found the soft inner folds of her body. Her knees gave way and she would have fallen if she hadn't caught Ashe by the shoulders, bracing herself.

He covered her stomach in kisses, then moved back and forth from one thigh to the other, kissing, licking, nipping her tender flesh. She moaned with the pleasure, shivering as she dug her nails into his shoulders.

Lifting her, he laid her on the chaise and came down over her, one knee resting on the side of the cushion, his other foot on the floor.

"Touch me, Deborah. Feel me."

She sucked in a deep breath, then began a timid exploration of his chest and belly. Garnering her courage and enticed by his glorious body, she ran her fingers over his hardness. He groaned, but she knew the sound was one of pleasure and not pain. She circled him. He covered her hand, teaching her the movements that pleased him. But as quickly as he'd instructed her, he pulled her hand away and laid it on his hip.

"I can't take much of that, honey."

Lowering his head, he captured her nipple in his mouth, teasing it, then sucking greedily. She arched her back up off the chaise. He delved his fingers between her satiny folds, finding her most sensitive spot. She writhed beneath him as he fondled her. Within minutes she shuddered and he swallowed her cries of completion in a tongue-thrusting kiss. As the last wave of pleasure shook her, Ashe lifted her hips and entered her. One sure, swift move that joined their bodies and began the mating dance.

Slowly. Precisely. In and out. Hands roamed. Lips kissed. Bodies united in pleasure. Soon the rhythm changed, the waltz became a wild fandango. Slow. Quick. Slow. Quick. Deborah clung to Ashe as the tension in her body mounted. He thrust into her harder and faster, sweat forming on his body.

She called his name over and over again as her pleasure climbed upward, closer and closer to the apex. Ashe's movements became frantic, his need for this woman growing hotter and hotter.

She cried out in the moment of release, spiraling out of control and into oblivion. Ashe thrust once, twice more, and followed her over the precipice. His own hardy male cry blended with her feminine ones, their breaths ragged, their bodies coated with perspiration.

Ashe maneuvered Deborah so that they fit together on the chaise, their bodies stuck together with the moisture of their lovemaking.

"We're going to stay here all night," he told her.

"Yes. I know." She kissed him, taking the initiative, smothering him with all the passion she'd buried deep within her eleven years ago when he had walked out of her life.

But he was back and for however long Ashe McLaughlin stayed in her life, she planned to be his lover. Maybe nothing lasted forever. Maybe they didn't have a future. But for tonight, she would pretend. Tomorrow was a million miles away. Nothing mattered tonight, nothing except loving and being loved by Ashe.

Deborah opened the door to her bedroom. Ashe circled her waist with his arm, pulling her back against his chest, nuzzling her neck with his nose.

"Get in your room. It's nearly six. Mother will be up and about soon," Deborah said, but turned in his arms, kissing him.

He shoved her away, turned her around and swatted her behind. "See you downstairs for breakfast in about an hour."

Deborah stood in the open doorway, watching until Ashe disappeared down the hall and into his room. Smiling, she walked into her sitting room, humming "Goin' Out of My Head," the tune that had been playing on the cassette when she and Ashe had made love right before returning to the house.

"Good morning," Carol Vaughn said.

Deborah came fully alert, stared across the room and saw her mother perched on the edge of the window seat. "Mother!"

"Come in and close the door. I think we need to have a little talk, don't you?"

"How long have you been waiting in here?" Deborah closed the door and walked across the room, sitting down beside her mother.

"Only a few minutes." Carol took Deborah's hand. "I awoke early. I'd had a difficult time sleeping all night. The sedatives don't last very long. I walked around and just happened to stop by the windows and saw light coming from the pool house. I checked your room and found it empty, then I knocked on Ashe's door. Mr. Roarke heard me and came out to see what was going on."

"Did you tell Roarke that Ashe and I were missing?"

"I told him that y'all had obviously spent the night in the pool house," Carol said. "I rather think I embarrassed the man."

"Oh, Mother, really."

"I was awake and heard the two of you on the stairs, so I came over here to wait for you."

"I'm a big girl now. I don't need your approval to spend the night with a man."

"No, of course you don't." Carol patted Deborah's hand, then released it. "But if you and Ashe have begun an affair, then I can't help being concerned. For you and for Allen."

"Mother, I—"

"Shh. I deliberately brought Ashe back here because I knew you'd never gotten over him, that there had been no one else." Glancing down at her hands, Carol twisted her diamond ring and her gold wedding band about on her finger. "I admit I played God in your life, but I want you to be happy."

"I'm glad Ashe came back into my life. We've cleared up several misconceptions we had concerning each other."

"He told you what your father did, didn't he?"

"Yes, he told me."

"Deborah, your father thought he was doing the best thing for you. I disagreed, but you know how your father was. He wouldn't listen to me."

"I don't blame you, Mother. I don't even blame Daddy." Deborah hugged Carol. "It's all right. Really it is. We can't change what happened. Besides, I'm the one who has kept Allen's parentage a secret. I could have gotten in touch with Ashe at any time and we both know it."

No, Deborah blamed no one except herself. If she had been a little older and less dependent on her parents, she never would have agreed to her father's plan to send her and her mother away to Europe for the last few months of Deborah's pregnancy. A chubby girl who had been able to disguise her pregnant state with loose, baggy clothes, even at six months, Deborah hadn't had a problem keeping her pregnancy a secret. And once they had returned to Sheffield with Allen, no one had dared to openly question his parentage.

"I lied to Mattie," Carol said. "She asked me once, when Allen was just a baby, if he was your child. Yours and Ashe's."

"You never told me that she suspected Allen wasn't yours and Daddy's."

"I lied to her. I convinced her that her suspicions were wrong. She never questioned me again."

"If she'd known, she would have told Ashe."

"She does know, Deborah." Carol kept her eyes downcast. "I told her the truth when I asked her for Ashe's telephone number in Atlanta."

"Mother!"

Carol's chin quivered as she looked directly at her daughter. "She has promised not to tell Ashe, to give you time to tell him the truth." Carol clutched Deborah's hand. "You must tell Ashe. You can't keep putting it off, not now the two of you are lovers."

"Mother, I'm not sure telling Ashe would be the best thing to do, under the circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"Ashe and I have made each other no promises. He hasn't committed himself to me for any longer than his business here will take. Once I'm no longer in danger, he's going back to Atlanta."

"I see."

"If I tell him about Allen, I have no idea what he might do. He could tell Allen. He could demand joint custody. Or he could make a commitment to me because of Allen and not because he loves me." Jumping up off the window seat, Deborah walked around the room. She stopped abruptly, then turned to face her mother. "I'm afraid to tell him. I'm afraid I'll lose him all over again."

"Deborah, dear child, you musn't—"

"I know. I know. I'm not fooling myself. It's just that I want whatever time we have together to go on being as wonderful as it was tonight."

"You must tell the man he has a son." Carol shook her head. "You can't lie to Ashe if you love him."

"I didn't say I loved him."

"You didn't have to. I see it in your eyes. I hear it in your voice."

"I can't tell him. Not yet."

"I go back to the doctor for a checkup and more tests soon," Carol said. "If you haven't told Ashe by then—"

"No, Mother, you musn't tell him."

"Then you tell him. We should have told him long ago. Besides, if you don't tell him before he leaves Sheffield, Mattie will tell him."

"But what if he tells Allen?"

Carol stood, walked across the room and laid her hand on Deborah's shoulder. "Ashe isn't going to do anything to hurt Allen. Don't you know him any better than that?"

"Give me some time, Mother. Please, just let me do this my way and in my own good time."

"Don't wait too long. My heart tells me that you'll be sorry if you do."

Ashe came out of the shower, dried off and stepped into a pair of clean briefs. He didn't know when he'd ever felt so good, so glad to be alive.

Deborah. Sweet, beautiful Deborah.

She was, in so many ways, the same innocent, loving girl she'd been eleven years ago; but then she was also a woman of strength and courage and incredible passion.

Whoever she was, part innocent girl, part bewitching woman, Deborah Vaughn was honest and trustworthy. She would never lie to him. Never!

He had tried to put Roarke's suspicions out of his mind, and for those magic hours he'd spent with Deborah he'd been able to do just that. But now he had to face them again.

There was no way Allen Vaughn could be his son. Deborah would have told him if she'd been pregnant. She'd have come running to him. She'd been so crazy in love with him that she would have…

She would have come to him after he'd rejected her, after he'd told her that he didn't love her the way she loved him?

Allen isn't your son, he told himself. He looks just like Deborah. He's her brother, dammit. Her brother!

Besides, Mama Mattie would have told him if she'd thought Allen was his child.

Don't do this to yourself! Don't look for similarities between you and Allen. Don't let Roarke's outrageous suspicions spoil what you and Deborah have found together this time.

Miss Carol never would have dared you to come back to Sheffield and face the past if Allen was your son.

Ashe dressed hurriedly, then rushed downstairs, eager to see Deborah again. He would not look at Allen Vaughn and search for a truth that didn't exist. He trusted Deborah. His heart told him she wouldn't lie to him. And just this once, he intended to listen to his heart.

Chapter 11

« ^ »

The trial had lasted eight days, everyone saying the case was pretty well cut and dried since the prosecution had a reliable eyewitness to the murder. After three and a half hours of deliberation, the jury had rendered a guilty verdict, surprising no one. Five days later, the judge had sentenced Lon Sparks to life in prison, and Deborah Vaughn had been free from threats and harassment for nearly two weeks.

Ashe had been waiting for Buck Stansell to strike, but nothing had happened, not even a wrong number telephone call. He'd thought about paying Buck a visit, but decided against it. Why take a chance on stirring a hornet's nest? He had talked to his cousin Lee Roy, who'd said little, except that people weren't overly concerned with an insignificant guy like Lon Sparks, that the man wasn't worth enough to cause trouble over.

Roarke had suggested it might be time to think about returning to Atlanta, but Ashe kept putting him off. How could he take a chance on leaving Deborah undefended? She'd come to mean far more to him than she should. He had allowed himself to become too involved with her, with Allen and Miss Carol. This was a job, but not like any other. These were people he cared about, a family he'd started thinking of as his.

Maybe he had reached the age when he needed to settle down, to start considering marriage and children. He wasn't sure. He and Deborah were attracted to each other, always had been, although he'd fought that attraction when they'd been younger. Maybe somewhere deep down inside him, he'd always thought he wasn't quite good enough for Deborah. Not just because her parents were wealthy and socially prominent and he'd come from white trash hoodlums, but because he'd never been innocent or pure or good, and Deborah had been all those things. Even now, at twenty-eight, she still personified everything right with the world.

And he still wasn't good enough for her.

Ashe paced the floor in the doctor's office, waiting for Deborah and Miss Carol. He'd told himself that he would hang around Sheffield until they knew the test results. It was as good an excuse as any. This way he could justify his reluctance to leave, to Deborah and her family, as well as to himself.

Sitting, he flipped through several magazines, then stood and paced the floor again. He glanced at the wall clock, checking it against his watch. Nearly an hour. Dammit, how long did it take for a doctor to explain test results?

Just when his patience came to an end, Deborah and Miss Carol emerged from the office, solemn expressions on their faces. Deborah's arm draped her mother's slender shoulders.

"We're ready to go home, now, Ashe," Deborah said.

Ashe didn't ask any questions, didn't say a word, simply nodded his head and led the ladies outside and assisted them into the car.

Miss Carol, sitting in the front seat beside Ashe, reached over and touched his arm lightly. "Can you stay awhile longer?"

"Yes, ma'am, of course I can stay." He pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare.

"Deborah and Allen will need you," Carol said.

"Mother, please don't—" Deborah said.

"Hush up." Carol swatted her hand in the air. "Ashe is like family and I want him here. Even if you think you can handle this alone, I believe you'll need a strong man at your side."

"I take it the tests results weren't good." Ashe kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"The cancer has returned and Dr. Mason has scheduled surgery for the first of next week." Carol opened her purse, took out a lace handkerchief and wiped her hands, then returned the handkerchief to her purse.

"I'm sorry, Miss Carol."

"No need for all this gloom and doom." Carol sat up straight, squaring her shoulders as if preparing herself to do battle. "I licked this thing once and I can do it again. But I'll rest easier knowing Deborah won't be alone, that you'll be at her side."

"You hired me, Miss Carol. I won't leave Sheffield as long as you need me."

"Thank you, Ashe." She patted him on the arm.

Little more was said on the short drive home. Indeed, what more could be said? Ashe wondered. Life certainly didn't play fair. Not when it heaped more trouble on one family than it could bear. But then, Deborah and Miss Carol were both strong women. They were fighters despite their genteel backgrounds.

Sirens blasted, shrill and menacing in the quite, lazy atmosphere of Sheffield's main street.

"Oh, my." Carol shivered. "I do so hate the sound of those things. Sirens always mean bad news."

"Look at that black smoke," Deborah said. "It's coming straight up Montgomery Avenue."

"My goodness, you don't suppose it's one of our neighbors' homes, do you?" Miss Carol leaned toward the windshield, her gaze riveted to the billowing smoke filling the blue sky.

The closer they came to home, the darker the smoke, the louder the sirens. A sudden sick feeling hit Ashe in the pit of his stomach. Allen was still at school. Roarke would be with him. Ashe blew out a breath.

Before they reached the Vaughn driveway, they saw one fire truck parked at the back of the house and another just turning in behind it. "It's our garage!" Deborah gripped the back of her mother's seat. "It's on fire!"

Ashe pulled the Cadillac up to the curb, stopped and jumped out. "Stay here." He ran across the front yard.

"Stay in the car, Mother. I'll come back and check on you in just a few minutes."

"But Ashe said for both of us to stay here," Carol said.

"Ashe isn't my boss."

Deborah jumped out of the car, catching up with Ashe at the back corner of the house, where he stood watching the firemen do their job. He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to his side.

"It's just the garage," he said. "And it looks like they're getting the fire under control."

"Mazie? Where's Mazie? Is she all right?"

"She's at the grocery store. Remember? This is Wednesday morning, her midweek trip to pick up supplies."

"Oh, yes, of course."

Deborah leaned against Ashe, watching while the firefighters extinguished the blaze, leaving a charred three-car garage, a blackened Mercedes, a soot-covered BMW and swirling clouds of gray smoke spiraling heavenward.

Fire Chief Greg Wilbanks nodded, removed his hat and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Damn curious blaze. Whoever set this baby didn't try to hide the fact that it was out-and-out arson."

"What do you mean?" Deborah asked.

"The place was doused with gasoline and torched. We found two empty gas cans at the back of the house." Greg looked at Ashe. "I've called Chief Burton. I'd say your job isn't finished, Mr. McLaughlin. Looks like somebody's out to get himself a little revenge."

"Ashe?" Deborah grabbed his arm. "Do you think that—"

"I don't think anything," he said.

"But Greg said—"

"I know what he said. There's no point jumping to conclusions. We'll take every precaution, but we're not going to panic." He grasped her by the shoulders. "Go tell Miss Carol that everything's all right. The fire's out. Tell her the truth, but play it down. There's no need to worry her any more than can be helped."

"You're right." She slipped her arms around Ashe's waist and sighed when he hugged her close. Pulling away, she tried to smile. "I'll take Mother in the front door. There's no need for her to see this until later."

"Don't read anything into this," Ashe said. "Not yet. Let me handle things. I'm not going anywhere, not until you're completely out of danger. Trust me, honey."

"I do trust you. With all my heart."

Ashe watched her walk away, a tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach. She expected a great deal from him. Was it more than he could deliver? Would he let her down again, or could he be the man Deborah wanted and needed?

Ashe approached Greg Wilbanks. "When Chief Burton arrives, tell him I'd prefer he not bother Miss Carol or Deborah. I'll talk to him. And once you've filed your report on this fire, I'd like a copy."

"As Miss Carol's representative?" Greg asked.

"Yeah, as Miss Carol's representative."

"No problem."

Going in the back door, Ashe met Carol and Deborah in the hallway.

"I'm taking Mother upstairs to rest," Deborah told him, then turned to assist her mother. "I'll fix you some tea and bring it up in just a little while."

"Tea would be nice." Halting on the landing, Carol grabbed Deborah's arm. "Let him do whatever he has to do to put an end to this."

"Mother, what are saying?"

"I'm saying that Ashe knows how to deal with those people. However he chooses to handle the situation. I don't want you trying to persuade him otherwise."

"Ashe is not a hired assassin, Mother. He's not going to kill Buck Stansell."

"You two go on," Ashe called out from the downstairs hallway. "I'll fix you both some tea and bring it up."

"Thank you," Miss Carol smiled.

"Mother!" Deborah glared at Carol. "Do you honestly think Ashe would murder someone?"

"Not murder, my dear, kill. There is a difference. And Ashe McLaughlin has been trained to kill. There is no doubt in my mind that he would kill anyone who'd harm you."

"I don't want him to have to kill to protect me, but… Perhaps Buck Stansell wasn't responsible for the fire. Besides, no one was harmed."

Downstairs, Ashe put on the water to boil, set two cups on a tray and laid two Earl Grey tea bags in each cup. Lifting the phone out of the wall cradle, he dialed Roarke's cellular phone number.

"Roarke, here."

"Keep a very close eye on Allen."

"What's wrong?"

"We've had a fire here," Ashe said. "Someone doused the garage with gasoline. They left the cans for the firemen to find."

"Looks like we'll be hanging around Sheffield for a while longer than we thought."

"Yeah. I'd say Buck Stansell is back to playing games with us. The question is just how deadly will his games become."

Deborah took care of her morning phone calls, dictated several letters and closed a deal on the old Hartman farm before her ten-thirty coffee break. She had wanted to stay home with her mother, whom she worried would fret the day away there at the house with only Mazie, the eternal pessimist, as company. But her mother had insisted she didn't need a baby-sitter, so Deborah had found an alternative plan.

She glanced in the outer office where Ashe sat with his long legs stretched out, his big feet propped up on a desk in the corner, situated where he could see directly into Deborah's office. He had begun work on his second crossword puzzle book since his arrival in Sheffield.

Deborah dialed the telephone, hoping her plan for keeping her mother occupied would work out.

"Hello."

"Mama Mattie," Deborah said. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"What is it, child?"

"Mother's at the house all alone with Mazie, and I'm afraid, after the doctor's news and the fire in the garage yesterday, she'll spend the day fretting."

"You need say no more. I've just baked an apple cinnamon coffee cake. I'll take it over and spend the rest of the day with Miss Carol."

"Thanks so much, Mama Mattie."

"It'll be my pleasure." Deborah hung up the phone and glanced back at Ashe, who looked up from his puzzle and grinned at her. She lifted her hand to her mouth in a drinking gesture. Ashe nodded agreement. They met at the coffeepot, one of three set up on a table in a small, open room directly across from the office rest room.

"Good morning." Holding a mug of hot coffee in one hand, he cupped her hip with the other and brought her close enough for him to kiss.

She returned the kiss, then pulled away, turning to pour her coffee. "Get your hand off my hip, Mr. McLaughlin. This is an office, not a bedroom," she teased.

"I'm glad you told me," he said. "I was planning on backing you up against the wall over there and ravishing you. But since this is an office, I don't suppose ravishing the boss lady is allowed."

"Most definitely not."

"You've had a busy morning."

"I've accomplished a great deal."

They carried their coffee back into the outer office, pausing just outside Deborah's private domain.

"Ashe, have there been any threatening phone calls or a letter today?" she asked.

"No, honey, not a one."

"I'd thought that since … well since the fire yesterday, the harassment might start all over again."

He nudged her through her office door. "There may not be a connection. But…" He didn't want to alarm her.

"But what?"

"If Buck Stansell was behind yesterday's fire, I'd say phone calls and letters are a thing of the past. Simple harassment will no longer be the order of the day."

"I see. You're saying things will get nasty."

"They could."

"Do you think Allen and Mother are in danger?"

"Possibly."

"Oh, Ashe." The coffee sloshed over the edge of her mug. Quickly holding the mug outward so the liquid could run down the sides, she averted being burned.

Just as Ashe started to close the door to Deborah's office, a string of loud, piercing blasts sounded. The front office windows shattered. Glass blew across the room. The office staff screamed and dived for cover under their desks. Ashe knocked Deborah to the floor, covering her body with his as he drew his gun.

"Crawl to the left," he told her.

She obeyed silently, not questioning Ashe's order for one minute. Standing, he lifted her to her knees and sat her in the corner behind a row of metal file cabinets.

"Stay put."

She nodded. He made his way to the outer office where he found the staff in hiding. The front of the office wall consisted of a line of long windows, all of which had been destroyed by a barrage of bullets.

Annie Laurie looked up from beneath her desk, her eyes wide with fright. "Ashe? Oh, my God, what happened?"

"Everyone stay put," Ashe said.

Cracking his office door a fraction, Neil Posey peered outside. "Is everyone all right?" he asked. "Is Annie Laurie okay? Was Deborah hurt?"

"As far as I know the only damage is to the windows," Ashe said as he made his way to the bullet-riddled front door. He walked out onto the sidewalk. People were staring at him and at the Vaughn & Posey building. In the distance he heard a police siren and knew, the police station being only a few blocks away, the authorities would arrive at any moment. Returning inside, he made his way toward Deborah's office.

"It's all right," Ashe said. "Whoever did all this damage is long gone."

One by one the staff of Vaughn & Posey emerged from under their desks.

Neil opened his office door. "Annie Laurie, are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Posey. Just scared to death."

Ashe found Deborah still sitting in the corner behind the filing cabinets. She stared up at him, her eyes dry, her face pale.

"It's okay, honey." Reaching down, he lifted her to her feet. She shook uncontrollably. "Deborah?"

She clung to him, her trembling growing worse. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Everybody's fine. Nothing's hurt but the building."

"I can't let the people who work for me be at risk because of me."

Ashe stroked her back, trying to soothe her. "You can't blame yourself for this."

"Yes, I can. And I do. I'm Buck Stansell's target. If I hadn't been here at the office, then he wouldn't have sent someone here to shoot up the place."

"Don't start blaming yourself for something that isn't your fault." Dammit, she was shaking like a leaf. He wasn't getting through to her.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her soundly. She glared at him, then nodded her head. Ashe pulled her back into his arms, and that's how the police chief found them.

"Deborah, Chief Burton is here," Annie Laurie called out from the doorway.

Deborah turned in Ashe's arms, but made no move away from him. He kept his arms tightly around her.

"They sure as hell made a mess of things," Chief Burton said. "A couple of witnesses across the street said they saw one man drive by real slow, coming to a stop right out front before he pulled out what they thought looked like some sort of automatic weapon. Of course, they can't identify the weapon. Said it happened too fast. He was driving a new Chevy."

"The car was probably stolen," Ashe said.

"Could've been. Anyway, I just .wanted to ask if either of you saw anything that could help us."

"No," Ashe said. "We didn't see anything."

"Nobody in the office seemed to have seen a thing. Just heard the shooting." The police chief looked directly at Deborah. "Ms. Vaughn, you might want to think about staying at home for a few days, that is, unless you plan on closing down the business."

"No, I do not plan on closing Vaughn & Posey." She stiffened her spine. Sliding his hand up and around, Ashe caressed her back, then placed his arm around her shoulders. "However, I will consider staying at home. I don't want to put my employees' lives at risk."

"I'm taking Ms. Vaughn home, now," Ashe said. "If you need to question us further, you'll know where to find us."

"Fine," Chief Burton said. "I don't think we'll need either of you any more today."

"I need to make arrangements to have the building cleaned and repair work started immediately." Deborah allowed Ashe to lead her across the shattered glass and splintered wood covering the outer office floor.

She stopped at Annie Laurie's desk; the two women hugged each other. Deborah turned to face her employees. "I'm sorry this had to happen. I'm so relieved no one was injured." She glanced over at Neil, whose round, normally pink face was a pale gray.

"Let everyone go home for the rest of the day. I'll have someone come in and clean up. Rearrange things so work can continue tomorrow. Make use of my office. I'll be working at home. Temporarily."

"Certainly, Deborah. We'll carry on," Neil said.

Ashe hurried her outside and into her car. "Just hang on, honey. I'll take you home."

"I dread telling Mother, but I have no choice. You know someone may have already called her."

"Miss Carol will handle this okay. She's a strong woman, just like her daughter."

When they arrived at the Vaughn home, they found Mattie Trotter waiting on the front porch. The minute Deborah approached her, she opened her arms.

Going into Mattie's arms, Deborah sighed. "Oh, Mama Mattie, this has become a nightmare. I thought it was over, that the worst had been Huckleberry's poisoning."

"It'll be all right," Mattie said, glancing over Deborah's shoulder at Ashe. "Ashe isn't going to let anything happen to you."

"Someone called already, didn't they?" Deborah asked. "Mother knows."

"Miss Carol is fine. She's lying down in the library, taking a little nap." Mattie winked at Deborah as she slipped her arm around her waist and led her inside. "I put a few drops of brandy in her tea."

"Where's Mazie?" Deborah looked around in the hallway. "I can't believe she's not out here foretelling the end of the world for us all."

"I sent that silly woman to town on an errand," Mattie said. "I had to get her out of the house. She was driving me crazy and upsetting Miss Carol. She should be gone a couple of hours. And Allen won't be home from school until after three."

"Thanks." Deborah swayed, her head spinning. Mama Mattie motioned to Ashe, who lifted Deborah in his arms.

"Put me down!"

"Take her on upstairs and tend to her." Mattie pointed to the closed library door. "I'll go sit with Miss Carol and finish reading that new Grisham book. If we need y'all, I'll let you know."

Ashe carried Deborah up the stairs and into her sitting room, but didn't put her down. With her arms around his neck, she stared into his eyes and knew he was going to kiss her. She didn't resist, indeed she welcomed the kiss, needing it desperately. Quick. Hard. And possessive. Deborah sighed.

He carried her over to the window bench and sat down, placing her in his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked. She shook her head from side to side. "A bath?" Another negative shake. "A nap?"

"All I want is for you to hold me," she said, clinging to him.

He hugged her fiercely. "Nobody was hurt."

"This time. But what about the next time or the time after that? You can't guarantee me that some innocent person won't be harmed because of me."

"Not because of you, honey! Dammit, why do you insist on blaming yourself?"

"Maybe I should go away. Far away. That way the people I love would be safe."

"Not necessarily," Ashe said. "Running away isn't the answer if Buck Stansell is out for revenge. If you leave town, he might target Miss Carol or Allen."

"Oh, God, Ashe, Mother has enough to deal with already." Deborah grasped the lapels of Ashe's jacket. "Promise me that you won't let anything happen to Allen."

"I won't let anything happen to Allen." He kissed her forehead, then smoothed the loose strands of her hair away from her face. "You love Allen a great deal, don't you?"

"He's the most important person in the world to me. I—I… He's just a little boy."

Ashe caressed Deborah's face, cupping her cheek in his palm. "I'll take care of you and Allen. And Miss Carol."

Gulping in air, Deborah looked at Ashe pleadingly. She needed him, needed his tender loving care, needed his strength, his power.

He stood with her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on her bed. He came down over her, turning her to one side as he eased his body onto the bed. Facing her, he removed her jacket, then unbuttoned her blouse. Slowly, carefully, stroking and caressing her as he uncovered more and more of her body, Ashe undressed her completely.

She was a bundle of nerves, her emotions raw. She needed soothing, needed to forget, at least for a few hours, the nightmare her life had become. He hated the feeling of helplessness, knowing he hadn't been able to prevent the drive-by shooting at her office. But he could give her the reassurance and care she needed now. And soon, very soon, he would have to confront her enemy.

Ashe made love to her with his hands and mouth, whispering endearing words of comfort and admiration. Never before had he felt so totally possessive about a woman, wanting her and her alone in a way that bordered on obsession. How had this happened? When had Deborah become the focal point of his existence?

Every touch, every word was meant for her pleasure, but with each touch, each kiss, each heated word, he became lost in the fury of a passion over which he was fast losing control.

He caressed her breasts, loving the way her tight nipples felt beneath his fingertips, loving her hot little cries. He kissed her inner thighs. She sighed, squirming when his tongue turned inward for further exploration.

She moaned and writhed, her body straining for release as Ashe pleasured her, his lips and fingers masterful in their ministrations, bringing her to the very brink, then pausing, only to return her to that moment just before satisfaction.

She cried out, begging him not to prolong the agony, clinging to him, pleading for fulfillment. His words grew more erotic, more suggestive, as he carried her to the edge. With one final stroke of his tongue, he flung her into ecstasy.

Covering her mouth in a heated kiss, he devoured her cries of pleasure. Pulling her close, he reached down and lifted the hand-crocheted afghan and covered her. He lay there holding her while she dozed off to sleep and the noonday sun began its western descent.

His heart beat like a racing stallion. Sweat coated his body. He ached with the need for release. But this time had been for Deborah, not for him. She had needed the powerful fulfillment, and what Deborah needed was far more important to him than what he needed.

When Ashe had sent Buck Stansell a warning, declaring Deborah Vaughn his personal property, it had been a ruse. Now it was a fact. If he had to destroy Buck Stansell to keep Deborah safe, he'd do it. No one was going to harm his woman.

Chapter 12

« ^ »

Deborah set up a temporary office in the library, moving in a computer and borrowing Annie Laurie for the first day. She would do whatever was necessary to protect her employees. That might mean staying away from Vaughn & Posey for a few weeks, but it also meant business as usual. Too many people depended upon the real estate firm for their livelihoods, including Deborah's family. She had no idea whether or not Whitney had any money left in her trust fund, but she doubted it. Not after nearly eleven years of marriage to George Jamison. That meant Whitney, too, depended upon revenue from Vaughn & Posey to keep her and her worthless husband from bankruptcy.

Ashe McLaughlin's return to Sheffield was a mixed blessing. He and Roarke guarded the family night and day. Anyone wanting to harm her or Allen or her mother would have to go through two highly trained professionals. But her personal relationship with Ashe had her confused and uncertain.

She could not deny that she was in love with him. Always had been. Always would be. But the lie about Allen stood between them as surely as Ashe's inability to make a commitment. If she knew Ashe loved her, if she knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, telling Ashe the truth about Allen would not be as difficult. But he hadn't said he loved her and certainly had made her no promises beyond defending her with his life.

"Where do these go?" Ashe stood in the doorway, a stack of file folders in his arms.

"What are those?" she asked.

"They're printouts of all your current files on your present listings." Annie Laurie scurried past Ashe, dragging a swivel desk chair behind her.

Deborah smiled at Ashe; he returned her smile. She couldn't stop looking at him, couldn't stop remembering how it felt when they made love. She was as giddy and light-headed as a teenager in love for the first time. And the crazy thing was she honestly thought Ashe was acting the same way.

He looked incredible this afternoon, but then he always did. Tall, muscular and lean. Gray slacks. Navy blue jacket. Light blue shirt, worn unbuttoned and without a tie. She could see the top curls of dark hair above his open shirt.

They hadn't made love since yesterday and she ached to be with him.

Annie Laurie cleared her throat. "We could take a break. It's after one and we haven't stopped for lunch."

"Good idea." Ashe laid the file folders to the left of the computer atop the antique mahogany desk. "Why don't you two do whatever it is you need to do and I'll tell Mazie we're ready for some of her famous chili. I've been smelling the stuff for hours now."

"Check on Mother, will you?" Deborah asked. "She's been busy all morning working on that cross-stitch piece she wants to finish before she goes in the hospital"

"I'll see if she wants to join us for lunch or have something in her room," Ashe said.

Deborah looked around the library and wondered if it would ever return to normal once she went back to Vaughn & Posey's downtown office. Together she and Annie Laurie had managed to keep everything fairly neat, but office clutter had certainly changed the charming old room's atmosphere.

Deborah fell into the huge, tufted leather chair behind the desk. Her father's desk. Her grandfather's desk.

"So, Neil finally came to his senses and asked you out." Folding her arms behind her, Deborah placed her hands at the back of her head and stretched. "You'll need to leave here early enough to go home and change and—"

"It really isn't a date, Deborah. We're just having dinner and Neil is going to help me study. If I can't pass the test, I'll never become a Realtor. There is no need for me to leave early. Neil's picking me up here after work."

"Neil could have helped you study without taking you out for dinner," Deborah said. "My goodness, Annie Laurie, give the man a little encouragement. I think everyone, except Neil, knows how you feel about him."

"I can hardly throw myself at Neil when he's in love with you." Annie Laurie plopped herself down in the swivel chair she'd placed at the edge of the desk.

"Neil is not in love with me. It's just that he's had a sort of crush on me for years. I've made it perfectly clear that we can never be more than friends."

"I guess none of us can help who we love, can we? I'm in love with Neil, he's in love with you and you're in love with Ashe."

"I see you have this all figured out." In Annie Laurie's version of their love lives, they were beginning to sound like a modern day Southern version of A Midsummer Night's Dream. "But if actions speak louder than words, as Mama Mattie says, then I'd say you're the woman Neil cares for the most. After all, I'm not the one he checked on first yesterday after the gunman's drive-by attack."

"He couldn't have gotten to you without going through Ashe and Neil certainly would never try to confront Ashe."

"I'm telling you that if you want Neil, you're going to have to let him know. And I mean in no uncertain terms. Seduce the man."

Annie Laurie gasped. "Why Deborah Luellen Vaughn, what sort of advice is that? Are you saying that if I sleep with Neil, he'll fall madly in love with me?"

"No. I'm saying he's already in love with you, but just doesn't know it. Besides, a man Neil's age isn't going to be seduced unless he wants to be. And I'm telling you, he's ready for you."

"You and Ashe are having an affair, aren't you?" Annie Laurie kept her head bowed, but risked a quick glance in Deborah's direction. "I know it's none of my business, but you've been a good friend to me and I don't want to see you get hurt."

Deborah sighed, then smacked her lips lightly. "Yes, Ashe and I are having an affair. And I know only too well that I could wind up getting hurt again. But I've been in love with him for as long as I can remember. I've never wanted anyone else."

"I know exactly how you feel."

"Then don't wait around. Go get what you want. Neil isn't going anywhere, and take my word for it, you're exactly what Neil needs and what he wants, whether he knows it or not."

Ashe knocked on the doorpost, announcing his presence. "Chili is served in the kitchen. Coffee? Tea? Cola?"

"Tea," Deborah said.

"I'll go wash up and help Mazie get everything on the table." Annie Laurie stood. "Is Miss Carol joining us?"

"Yes, she said for me to come up and get her when we're ready to eat," Ashe said.

"I'll bring her down after I help Mazie." Annie Laurie rushed out of the library.

"What's wrong with her?" Ashe asked.

"I think my advice on her love life upset her."

"What kind of advice did you give her?"

"I told her to seduce Neil."

Ashe bellowed with laughter. "Good God, woman! I'd say you're sending two virgins into uncharted waters. How the hell will they know what to do?"

"I think they'll figure it out." When Ashe walked around the desk, Deborah slipped her arms around his neck.

"Annie Laurie and Neil? How long has this been going on? I thought the guy had a thing for you." Ashe pulled her up against him.

"He thinks he has a thing for me. But given the right encouragement, he'll realize Annie Laurie is the only woman for him." Deborah nuzzled the side of Ashe's neck with her nose. "Besides, Annie Laurie's so in love with Neil she can't see straight. A man would have to be a complete fool to reject that kind of love."

The moment she said the words, she wished them back. She tensed in Ashe's arms.

Taking her chin in one hand, he tilted her face. "It's all right, honey. I know you were talking about Neil, but the shoe certainly fit me once, too, didn't it?" He kissed her. Quick. Hard. Passionate. With his forehead resting on hers, he held her close. "I know what a fool I was eleven years ago. I didn't appreciate what I had. I was too young to know what I wanted or needed."

And now? she wanted to ask. Did he know what he wanted and needed now? "We can't change the past. Either of us."

"We aren't a couple of kids anymore, are we, Deborah? We can handle a love affair without either of us getting hurt this time."

"Yes, of course, we can." She nudged him with her hip. "I'm starving. Let's go eat."

Neil arrived at six-thirty, late and haggard, fuming about the workmen Deborah had hired to clear away the rubble from the office and fussing at the price their contractor was charging them to repair the damage.

Deborah tried to soothe his ruffled tail feathers, but he calmed very little, even after Deborah assured him their insurance would cover most of the costs.

She finally shooed Neil and Annie Laurie out of the house, suggesting the perfect restaurant for their dinner. When she and Ashe turned to close the front door, they realized Neil couldn't get his car started.

Getting out of his car, Neil walked back toward the house, leaving Annie Laurie waiting patiently in the car.

"I've been having trouble with the darn thing for weeks now, but haven't had time to take it in for a check-up."

"Leave it here." Deborah and Ashe met Neil on the porch steps. "Take my Caddy and you two go on for dinner. Keep it for the night. We'll call the garage in the morning and have them come get your car."

"I couldn't possible take your Cadillac."

"I insist. I'll go get the keys."

When she turned to go inside, Ashe grabbed her by the wrist. "I've got the extra set of keys you gave me." He pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Neil, who caught them, then almost dropped them from his shaky hand.

"I appreciate this," Neil said. "I'll drive safely."

Ashe and Deborah waved goodbye. Arm in arm, they returned inside to spend the evening with Allen, Miss Carol and Roarke, both of them counting the minutes until bedtime when they could meet at the pool house and make love.

Although the company was pleasant, Ashe wished the time would pass more quickly. He had wanted to drag Deborah off to some secluded spot all day. As the minutes ticked away, he grew more and more restless.

Deborah only partially heard most of what was said during and after dinner, her mind was so completely consumed with Ashe. All she could think about was being alone with him, loving and being loved.

There was no other man like Ashe—not for her. She had always been fascinated by him, even when she'd been a young girl. Indeed, she wondered if his years as a Green Beret hadn't enhanced the very basic male drives that had been born a part of him.

They watched each other, their eyes speaking the words they dared not utter in the presence of others. Deborah had no idea a man could make love to a woman without touching her. Ashe McLaughlin could. And did.

She felt herself growing moist and hot, her body responding to his every glance. She checked her watch for the hundredth time, wishing her mother and Allen would go to bed early. Roarke had excused himself thirty minutes earlier to take a walk around the block as he did each night.

The phone call came three hours after dinner. Ashe took the call, saying very little, but Deborah immediately knew something was terribly wrong.

Ashe replaced the receiver, a solemn expression on his face. His gaze met Deborah's; terror seized her.

"What happened?" she asked.

"There's been an accident," he said.

"What sort of accident?" Carol Vaughn glanced at Allen, who had stopped watching television and looked straight at Ashe.

"A car accident. Neil and Annie Laurie. They've been taken to the hospital in Florence." Ashe's gut instincts told him the car wreck had been no accident. Neil had been driving Deborah's car.

"Oh, dear Lord, no!" Miss Carol clutched her hands together.

"They're both alive. That's all I know." Ashe looked at Deborah. "I think we should go to the hospital immediately."

"Yes, of course we should," she said.

"I'll let Roarke know we're leaving." He turned to Carol. "We'll go by and get Mama Mattie. Pray for them, Miss Carol. Pray for all of us."

Carol nodded, then placed her arm around Allen's shoulders when he started after Ashe and Deborah. "Did somebody do something to Deborah's car? Were they trying to hurt her?" Allen asked.

Ashe halted in the doorway. Deborah rushed over to Allen, pulling him into her arms.

"No, darling, of course not," Deborah kissed Allen's cheek. "Please don't worry about me."

"We don't know what happened," Ashe said. "I'll talk to the police and find out. But Deborah's right. Don't worry about her. I'll take care of her."

Allen hugged Deborah, then released her, waving goodbye as she and Ashe left.

No one, not even Ashe McLaughlin, could make Neil Posey leave Annie Laurie's side, and the doctors allowed him to stay when he told them he was Annie Laurie's fiancé.

When Deborah, Ashe and Mattie Trotter had first arrived at the hospital, Neil had been incoherent, his eyes glazed with tears as he sat holding Annie Laurie's hand. Neil had suffered a few cuts and bruises, but nothing serious. Annie Laurie was unconscious. A concussion, they'd been told. If she came around soon, there should be nothing to worry about; however, if she remained unconscious…

Hour after hour passed without any change in Annie Laurie. Mattie Trotter dozed in the big chair in the corner of the room. Still holding Annie Laurie's hand in his, Neil had laid his head on the side of her bed.

Easing open the door, Ashe glanced around the room, saw his grandmother and Neil sleeping and Deborah looking out the window, watching the sunrise. He set the cardboard carton containing disposable coffee cups on the meal tray, removed the lids from two cups, picked them up and walked over to Deborah.

"Thanks." Deborah took the coffee. "A few more minutes and you would have found me in the other chair over there asleep, too."

"Why the hell doesn't she wake up?" Ashe squeezed the cup he held, pressing a bit of the dark liquid over the edge and onto his hand. "Damn! Good thing this stuff isn't very hot."

"I wish we knew exactly what caused the wreck. I can't believe a careful driver like Neil would have simply lost control of the car." Deborah sipped her coffee.

"Thank God they were both wearing their seat belts. If that pole hadn't crashed through the windshield and sideswiped Annie Laurie on the side of her head, she'd be okay." Ashe drank half his cup of coffee, then set the container down on the windowsill.

"I keep wondering what caused the accident. Neil is such a careful driver. He said the brakes didn't work, that coming off the hill on Court Street, he realized he couldn't slow down, couldn't stop."

"I think he probably panicked," Ashe said. "He realized he was going to slam into the back end of the car in front of him and possibly cause a pileup, so he tried to take the car off the road."

"I have my car serviced often. There's no reason the brakes shouldn't have worked." Deborah clutched her coffee cup in both hands.

"We both know there's a good chance someone tampered with your Caddy." Ashe balled his hands into fists. All night he had fought the desire to smash heads together, to run out of the hospital and hunt down Buck Stansell. But he would wait. Wait until he knew for sure.

A tall, skinny nurse walked into the room. Covering her lips with her index finger, she signaled Deborah and Ashe to be quiet. Silently she went about her business, checking on Annie Laurie, then nodding goodbye as she left.

"Are you hungry?" Ashe asked. "We could go down for breakfast soon."

"Let's wait awhile, until Mama Mattie wakes up. She needs some rest."

A soft knock sounded at the door. Ashe walked over and opened the door a fraction. Detective Morrow, from the Florence police, stood in the hallway.

"Could I speak to you, Mr. McLaughlin? The chief said to let you know what we've found out. He's talked to Chief Burton over in Sheffield and also to Sheriff Blaylock. They both said to fill you in."

Ashe stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. "Let's have it."

"The wreck wasn't an accident. Ms. Vaughn's Cadillac had been tampered with. There was no brake fluid. It had all leaked out. Looks like somebody intended for Ms. Vaughn to wreck her car."

Deborah stood with the door cracked enough to overhear what the detective said. Biting down on her bottom lip, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. A prayer to end this madness, to keep those she loved safe.

Ashe thanked Detective Morrow. "I'd like to see a copy of your mechanic's complete report as soon as possible." He shook hands with the policeman, then glanced at Deborah.

She opened the door, walked over to Ashe and tilted her chin defiantly. "So now we know for sure."

"Yeah, we know Buck isn't through playing games, and the games are getting more and more deadly." Ashe looked at her, his eyes hard, his face tense. "I think it's time ol' Buck and I have a little talk. Face-to-face."

"No, Ashe. Please." Deborah grabbed him by the arm. "You can't go off alone and confront a man like Buck Stansell. He could have you murdered on the spot."

"Yeah, he could, but he won't." Ashe put his arm around Deborah, hugging her to his side. "You forget that I know Buck and his kind. He's had me checked out thoroughly and he isn't about to bring down any more investigations on him and his boys right now. Lon Sparks has kept his mouth shut, but there isn't any doubt who was behind Looney's murder."

"But Ashe, you should let the police handle Buck Stansell. Talk to Charlie Blaylock. Let him talk to Buck."

"Honey, you don't understand. There is nothing to link your car's brake failure to Buck Stansell. Sheriff Blaylock has no legal reason to question Buck." He kissed Deborah quickly, then gave her a gentle shove away from him. "I don't need a legal reason. Your safety is the only reason I need. If I don't hunt Buck down after what happened with your car last night, he'll be wondering why."

Mama Mattie rushed out the door, waving her hands and laughing. "She's awake. She's talking to Neil. Come see. Oh, thank you Lord, she's all right!"

Deborah and Ashe went inside, stopping at the foot of Annie Laurie's bed. Sitting on the side of the bed, Neil held Annie Laurie in his arms, tears streaming down his face.

"Guess what?" Annie Laurie smiled, her bruised face beaming. "Neil just told me that he and I are going to get married."

Everyone laughed. Mama Mattie fluffed Annie Laurie's pillow, then went around the room hugging everyone.

Neil glanced at Deborah and smiled. "Funny how it takes something like this to make a man realize who he loves and how much he loves her."

"I think this is wonderful," Deborah said. "As soon as Annie Laurie is out of this dreadful place, we'll start planning an engagement party."

"Well, I think first we need to let the nurses know that Annie Laurie has regained consciousness," Ashe said. "The doctors will want to examine her."

"I'll go with you." Deborah gave Annie Laurie and Neil loving hugs, then put her arm around Mama Mattie's waist. "Why don't we leave these two alone until the doctors storm in here? We could go have breakfast."

"Sounds good to me."

Mattie followed Ashe and Deborah out into the hallway. After stopping by the nurses' station to alert the staff that Annie Laurie was conscious, the three headed for the elevators. The elevator doors opened and Roarke stepped out, Carol and Allen at his side.

"Mother! Allen! What are y'all doing here?"

Ashe eyed Roarke, who nodded toward Allen, but didn't say anything.

"Allen has been frantic," Carol said. "None of us got any rest last night. He's convinced himself that someone tampered with your car, that you aren't safe."

Deborah drew Allen into her arms, hugging him with fierce motherly protectiveness. "Oh, darling, Ashe isn't going to let anybody hurt me."

Pulling out of Deborah's arms, Allen turned to Ashe. "They think I'm nothing but a baby. They won't tell me the truth. But you will, won't you, Ashe?"

Everyone moved away from the elevators and into the hallway.

Deborah held her breath. Ashe knelt on one knee and put his hand on Allen's shoulder.

"Somebody tampered with the brakes on Deborah's car. They wanted to hurt her. But she's okay. And so is Neil and Annie Laurie."

"But what if Deborah had been driving the car, what if—" Allen beat his fists against Ashe's chest. "I hate Buck Stansell. I'd like to tell him what I think of him. I'd tell him if he hurts Deborah, I'll kill him!"

Ashe drew Allen into his arms. Deborah's eyes glazed with tears, but she saw the look in her mother's eyes, the look that said He's his father's son. End this lie. Tell Ashe the truth.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do, go see Buck Stansell." Ashe patted Allen on the back, then stood and looked at Roarke. "You take care of things for me. I have to go talk to a man about revenge."

"No, Ashe!" Deborah reached for Ashe, but Roarke grabbed her, physically restraining her while Ashe entered the elevator and punched the Down button.

Ashe caught Lee Roy and Johnny Joe just as they were leaving. He pulled his car up in the drive, blocking their departure. Both men stayed in their vehicle when Ashe got out and walked over to them. Lee Roy stepped out of his car and faced Ashe.

"You're out bright and early, cousin." Lee Roy grinned, the look on his face as innocent as a newborn baby's.

"I've been up all night." Ashe stood several feet away, his gaze focused on Lee Roy.

"I'm surprised you'd leave your woman alone, even to pay a visit on your relatives."

"This isn't a social call."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

"I want to see Buck. I don't think sending him another message can get my point across like a personal visit."

Johnny Joe opened the passenger side door, got out and placed his elbows on top of the car. "We heard about that wreck last night. Sure was a shame. Guess Miss Deborah Vaughn was lucky she loaned her car out to somebody else."

"Annie Laurie is family." Ashe didn't move a muscle, didn't even glance Johnny Joe's way. "Lucky for everyone involved, she's going to be all right."

"We wouldn't want to see Annie Laurie come to no harm." Lee Roy grunted. "Hell, we've always been fond of that girl, even though she's no blood kin to us, her being on your mama's side of the family and all."

"I want to see Buck," Ashe repeated. "Today."

"Well, Buck's a busy man," Lee Roy said. "It'll take time to arrange things. You understand."

"Then you get things arranged."

"Buck'll be agreeable to seeing you. He ain't got nothing but the best to say about you, you know. He respects you. And he wouldn't have allowed nothing really bad to happen to your woman."

"Bad things are happening. If he's seeking revenge against Deborah for testifying, then he'd better think again. Revenge works both ways."

"Hellfire, Ashe, Buck ain't no fool. He might have given orders to throw a scare into Deborah Vaughn, just for the principle of it, you know. But Lou Sparks ain't nothing but a speck of dirt on Buck's shoe. Not worth the trouble. Buck don't want to cross you."

"I need to hear Buck say that." Ashe turned, walked over to his rental car and opened the door. His gaze focused on the ground, Ashe laid one hand against the side window. "I'll be back this evening, around six. Tell Buck I won't wait any longer than that."

Johnny Joe jerked a .38 revolver out of the back of his belt, aimed it just to the left of Ashe and fired, hitting a nearby tree limb. Ashe didn't blink an eye.

"God a'mighty," Johnny Joe said. "Did you see that? He didn't move!"

"You damned fool." Lee Roy shook his head. "Sony about that, Ashe. You know Johnny Joe ain't never had a lick of sense."

Ashe looked up and grinned. "Being foolhardy runs in the family, doesn't it? Remind Buck of that inherited trait. Tell him that when it comes to defending my own, I'm not much concerned with the consequences, just the results."

"Ain't nobody in our gang been behind what's happened to your woman since the trial ended," Lee Roy said. "I know you ain't going to believe me, but I'll warn you that you'd better start looking elsewhere. There's somebody else wanting to see Deborah Vaughn dead. It ain't none of us. You'd better start checking out some of her highfalutin friends and relatives. See who's got something to gain if she dies."

"I'll keep that in mind." Ashe slid behind the wheel of his rented car. "I'll be back at six."

Chapter 13

« ^ »

Ashe parked outside the Sweet Nothings club, a huge blue metal building. From where he sat inside his car, he heard the loud, lonely wail of a guitar. So this was Evie Lovelady's place, huh? Ashe's old teenage girlfriend was now Buck Stansell's private property.

Lee Roy had told Ashe that meeting with Buck would clear up everything and show Ashe that none of their bunch was responsible for Deborah's most recent misfortunes. Ashe hadn't mentioned anything to Deborah about Lee Roy's insinuations that someone other than Buck Stansell might have reasons for wanting her dead. She'd been through enough in the last couple of months to last a lifetime, and now Miss Carol faced a second surgery for cancer. There was no point in worrying Deborah with something until he was absolutely sure.

Ashe got out, locked his car and entered the nightspot. Typical Southern honky-tonk. Nothing more. Nothing less. Loud music. Smoky air. Fun-loving rednecks and good old girls ready for a hot time on the town. A country band belted out the latest heartbreaking tunes.

Ashe glanced around, looking for the right person to ask about Buck Stansell. A tall, willowy brunette approached him.

"Long time no see, stranger." Evie slid her arm around Ashe's waist, dropping one hand to cup his buttock. She gave him a quick little squeeze, released him and laughed. "Tight as ever."

"You're looking good, Evie. How've you been?" Ashe grinned at his old girlfriend, one he and Lee Roy had both dated. The scent of her expensive perfume overwhelmed him. Damn, had she taken a bath in the stuff?

"I've been just fine, sugar. Got my own business now, and I hooked me the top dog in these parts." She held up her left hand, showing Ashe the three-carat diamond on her finger. "Of course, I haven't forgotten old friends and our good times together."

"Yeah, we had some good times, didn't we," Ashe said. "But we were just kids fooling around. We're grown up now and life's not fun and games anymore."

"Come on, sugar." Keeping her arm around Ashe's waist, Evie nudged him with her hip. "Let me get you a drink."

"I didn't come here to drink. I came to see Buck."

"Yeah, I know. He's waiting in back for you. I just wanted to be friendly and make you feel welcome, let you know I hadn't forgotten what good friends we used to be."

Ashe followed Evie around the edges of the enormous room, past the dance floor and down a narrow corridor. "You were friends with a lot of guys, before me and after me."

"You're right about that," she said. "I used to be a real good time girl. Now I'm a one-man woman. And Buck's that man."

"Lucky Buck."

Evie smiled. She was almost pretty, Ashe thought. Her eyes were too big, her lips too thin and her cheeks scarred by teen acne, scars she covered with heavy layers of makeup.

"He's waiting on you." Evie opened the last door on the left. "Just remember that Buck thinks of you as family. Your old man and his were tight." She crossed her index and middle fingers. "He's not going to lie to you. If your woman was marked, he'd tell you."

Ashe looked straight into Evie's eyes and knew she believed what she'd told him. Hell, maybe she was right. These men, men like his father and uncle and cousins, might be thieves, drug dealers and murderers, but they did adhere to a certain code of behavior when it came to their own people. And it was possible that they still considered Ashe one of their own.

"Take care of yourself, Evie." Ashe kissed her on the cheek. She punched him playfully on the arm, stuck her head inside the office and waved at her husband. "Ashe is here, sugar."

Ashe entered Buck's private domain. Evie closed the door, leaving Ashe alone with the man he'd come to question. The man he'd come to warn. The man he would have to kill if all else failed.

"Come on in, Ashe." Buck Stansell pushed back his big black velvet chair and stood. Tall and husky, with a thick mustache and the beginnings of a beer belly, Buck looked every inch the successful no-class gentleman with money that he was. "You haven't got a drink. Didn't Evie offer you something?"

"She offered," Ashe said.

"Evie's still looking good, isn't she? She's held up well. You know she's thirty-five and had three kids. Two of 'em mine." Buck's loud, hardy laughter filled the room.

"Yeah, Evie looks good."

"She's having herself the time of her life running this place. Named it herself. Sweet Nothings. I try to keep her happy. We do that, don't we, Ashe, try to keep our women happy?"

"And safe." Ashe glanced around the office. Expensive bad taste. Money could buy just about everything except good breeding and an innate sense of style.

"That goes without saying." Buck walked around the huge, ornate desk and sat down on the edge. "I had to put a scare into Deborah Vaughn before Lon was convicted. Had to keep up appearances and let Lon think I was doing what I could for him."

"You never meant to harm Deborah or her family?" Ashe asked.

"To be honest with you, I did consider having her taken care of, but once you showed up, I had second thoughts. Lon Sparks is small potatoes. An idiot who made the mistake of doing his business in front of a witness. Guess I should have just gotten rid of him. It might have been easier, but I have a reputation for taking care of my own. You understand how it is?"

"You want me to believe that you're not after Deborah for revenge."

"Why should I need revenge? Lou hasn't got the guts to double-cross me. Besides, he trusts me more than he does the law. He knows I'll keep my promises, one way or the other. He'd rather do time in the pen than spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, wondering what day might be his last. As long as he's in prison and keeps his mouth shut, he stays alive. He knows how things work. And he understands I've done all I intend to do on his behalf."

"Since the trial ended, the Vaughns' garage was set on fire, a gunman destroyed the front of Vaughn & Posey Realty and somebody tampered with the brakes on Deborah's Cadillac." Ashe stood, his legs slightly apart, his arms at his sides, his jacket hanging open. "If you want me to believe you had nothing to do with these incidents, then you're going to have to prove it to me."

"Look, old friend, I've given you some leeway because of who your daddy was, because of the man you've become, but I can be pushed only so far."

"I haven't even begun to push you, Buck, if you have any plans to kill Deborah. There are only a few things in this world worth killing for and even fewer worth dying for. To me, Deborah Vaughn is both. Do you understand?"

"I understood just fine when Lee Roy told me that she was your woman." Buck rose off the edge of his desk, straightened the jacket of his three-piece gray pinstriped suit, and ran his hand across the top of his head, smoothing the strands of his slick, brown hair.

"All right, let's say I believe you. If you're telling the truth, then someone else has put out a contract on Deborah. Who?"

"I don't know anything about a contract, but … for a friend, I could find out."

"For a friend?" Ashe wasn't sure what to believe, but his gut instincts told him that he just might have to trust Buck Stansell. "Okay, Buck, old friend. Although the local and state authorities may be interested in your illegal dealings, my only concern is Deborah Vaughn. As long as she's safe, I have no reason to cause you any grief."

"You give me your word and I'll give you mine." Buck stuck out his broad, square hand, each finger sporting an expensive ring.

"As long as Deborah and her family are safe, you have nothing to fear from me," Ashe said.

"You stay out of my business and, as proof of my innocence and a show of my friendship, I'll make some inquiries and find out who's behind Deborah Vaughn's recent problems."

Ashe took Buck's hand, exchanging a powerful, macho shake, sealing a deal with the devil, a deal to keep Deborah safe. Ashe knew only too well the kind of man Buck Stansell was, the kind of man his own father had been. Among these redneck hooligans there was a certain code of honor, so Ashe was willing to give Buck the benefit of the doubt. For the time being.

He knew better than to trust Buck completely, knew he'd better watch his back. If Buck thought Ashe posed a threat to his organization, his old friend would have no qualms about killing him. A guy like Buck might even ask Lee Roy to do the job for him, and get some sort of perverse pleasure from seeing which cousin would come out alive.

No, Ashe trusted Buck Stansell only so far. Now wasn't the time to bring the man down. He'd leave that to the authorities. Unless Buck lied to him. Then he'd take care of Buck himself.

Ashe made several calls after he left the Sweet Nothings club, one to Sam Dundee to ask him to initiate an investigation of the people in Deborah's life, those who might benefit from her death. Buck Stansell could be lying about his innocence in the garage fire, the drive-by shooting, and the brakes tampering. If he was telling the truth, then someone else had a motive; someone else wanted Deborah out of the way. But who? And why?

He spoke with the Florence police again, then met with Sheriff Blaylock and Sheffield police chief Ed Burton. He couldn't fault the local authorities. They'd done their jobs the best they could. Ashe especially liked Burton. He respected the man. The two of them had spent the past few hours going over all the leads, all the possibilities.

Ashe had expected the entire Vaughn household to be in bed when he arrived, after all it was nearly eleven. Tapping in the numbers for the security alarm at the back of the house, Ashe unlocked and opened the door. Only the tiny night-light on the refrigerator's ice and water dispenser burned, creating a dim glow in the room.

Wearing a floor-length maroon red robe, Deborah stood in his path, blocking him from entering. Dear God, she looked good enough to eat, all soft and silky, lush and delicious. His first instinct was to reach out and grab her.

"I thought you'd be in bed." He took a step inside the kitchen. Deborah stood right in front of him, not moving an inch. "You didn't get any sleep last night. You should be resting, honey."

"How am I supposed to rest with you out till nearly midnight? Allen asked about you at supper and Mother's been worried."

What was this? She was fit to be tied. What was her problem? He didn't want to argue; he wanted to make love.

"Before I left, I told you I wouldn't be in until late." When he reached out to take her by the shoulders and draw her into his arms, she backed away from him, her blue eyes cold, their expression daring him to touch her.

"I had business to take care of," he said. "The business of keeping you safe, of making sure nothing happens to you or Allen or Miss Carol."

"Roarke was protecting us. Just what were you doing?"

"What the hell's wrong with you, Deborah? Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not angry." He took several steps toward her; she backed farther and farther away. "I was worried. You left here to go see Buck Stansell. You told us you'd be late, but you've been gone nearly five hours. For all I knew, you'd been killed or—"

Ashe charged across the room, drew her into his arms and held her close. "I'm fine, honey. You shouldn't have worried about me. I told you that I know how to handle Buck Stansell and his type."

Hell, she'd been worried about him. He should have called to let her know he was all right. But he wasn't used to having anyone worry about him.

Deborah clung to Ashe, running her hands up and down his arms, clutching him as she laid her head on his chest. She knew she was acting irrationally, but she couldn't help herself. With each passing minute that she had waited for Ashe, she'd grown more tense, more worried, more concerned that Buck Stansell might have killed him.

Smelling his jacket, she jerked her head up and looked at him, then pulled out of his arms. He'd been with a woman, someone who bathed in her perfume.

Deborah glared at him, her small hands tightening into fists. She'd been worried sick about him and he'd been with another woman! Damn him! She'd been a fool to trust Ashe McLaughlin, to believe she was the only woman in his life.

"You smell like a very expensive French whore!"

Ashe laughed. "Actually, I smell like a fairly cheap Alabama whore."

He had left the house hours ago, on a mission to confront Buck Stansell. She'd been half out of her mind with worry. When hours passed and he didn't return, didn't call, she had imagined all sorts of terrible things, but she certainly hadn't thought that he was with another woman.

"I've spent the last two hours crazy with worry, scared to death that something had happened to you, and you've been with some woman!"

Ashe covered his mouth to conceal his chuckle. He'd never seen Deborah this jealous, not even over Whitney. Did she honestly think that he'd been fooling around with someone else? Didn't she realize that he couldn't see anyone except her, that she was the only woman he wanted, that thoughts of her filled his every waking moment?

"Don't you dare stand there and laugh about it!"

"Your life is in danger," Ashe said. "There could be a contract out on you and what are you worried about? You're worried about whether or not I've been out messing around with another woman."

Dammit, he couldn't believe this! She honestly thought he'd touch another woman when he could have her.

"I don't care who you … you … mess around with!"

Ashe came toward her, taking slow, determined steps. He shoved Deborah against the kitchen wall, then braced his hands on each side of her head. "I'm only going to say this once, so listen very carefully. I have not been having sex with another woman. I don't want or need another woman. There has been no one else in my life since the day I came back to Sheffield."

Deborah's breasts rose and fell with her labored breathing. She stared Ashe right in the eye, her gaze hard, her lips trembling, her cheeks flushed. "Then I suppose what I smell on you is some sort of new aftershave."

Ashe leaned down, touching her lips with his. When she turned her head, he reached out and grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her to face him. "What you smell is Evie Lovelady's perfume. She wrapped herself around me when I arrived at the Sweet Nothings club tonight to meet with Buck."

"Evie Lovelady?" Deborah spat the woman's name out between clenched teeth. "You and she used to be quite an item if I recall correctly."

"Evie and most of the guys I hung out with used to be an item. Now she's a happily married woman with three kids. She's Buck's wife."

"So you had to get reacquainted with Evie before your meeting with Buck Stansell." Deborah tried to pull out of Ashe's grip. He leaned forward, trapping her against the wall with his body. "Let me go. I've had enough!"

Ashe rubbed his body against Deborah's, then released his hold on her chin, only to pull her into his arms. "I had no idea I'd come home to this. A jealous woman ready to scratch out my eyes."

"I'm not jealous. I have no reason to be, do I? We haven't made a commitment to each other. We haven't promised each other anything." She couldn't bear having him this close, his hard body pressed intimately against her, his arms holding her tightly. "Just let me go, Ashe. I'm tired and I need some rest. Unless Buck Stansell confessed to trying to kill me and has promised to leave me alone, I think any discussion about your visit with him can wait till morning."

Her jealousy aroused him as much as it irritated and amused him. He had no intention of letting her go to bed angry and hurt and filled with jealous rage.

Ashe lowered his hands to her buttocks, lifting her up and against his arousal. "I've been with Ed Burton for the last couple of hours, discussing my visit with Buck and going over the best way to end this nightmare for you and your family."

"You've been with the police?" She gasped when he began inching her robe and gown upward, gathering more and more of the material in his hands.

He hadn't been in bed with Evie Lovelady. He hadn't been enjoying himself with another woman while she sat at home worrying about him. She should have trusted Ashe. She should have known he wouldn't betray her.

"Buck claims he ended his harassment of you when Lon Sparks was convicted. He says someone else is after you." Ashe buried his face against her neck, nibbling, licking, kissing.

She squirmed in his arms. "You—you don't believe him, do—do you?" She could hardly breathe. The blood rushed to her head, her knees weakened, her body moistened.

"I'm not sure."

He reached under the bunched material he held against her buttocks and stroked her tenderly, then ran his hand up her back, loosening the tie belt of her robe. Nuzzling her soft flesh with his nose, he parted the robe in front, uncovering the rise of her breasts exposed by the low cut nightgown. He took her tight nipple in his mouth, biting her gently through the maroon silk and ecru lace bodice. Deborah moaned with sweet pleasure.

He wanted her. Wanted her bad. He hurt with the need to take her. Here. Now. Hard and fast.

"We'll discuss this tomorrow," he said, his breath ragged. If he didn't take her soon, he'd die.

"Tomorrow," she agreed, reaching for his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders.

He covered her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. She clung to his arms, holding onto his jacket sleeves, which she'd managed to bring down to his elbows. He shrugged out of the jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Deborah unbuttoned his shirt, quickly, ripping off the last two buttons in her haste. Ashe removed her silk robe, then pulled her gown down to her waist. He teased her aching nipples with the tips of his fingers. Closing her eyes, she threw her head back and sighed, deep in her throat.