Killjoy

Chapter 30

Any hope that the FBI would be able to keep the names of the survivors out of the papers and off the television had been squelched when a news crew filmed Carrie and the judge being carried into the ambulance near the site of the explosion.

Avery heard about it on the radio as she and John Paul were driving through the mountains. As soon as they'd left the sleepy town, she'd climbed in front, clipping him on the shoulder with her left foot when she fell into the passenger seat. Her shoe fell

in his lap. Shaking his head over her awkwardness, he handed her the shoe while she apologized.

They continued to listen to the broadcast until the signal faded. "Does everyone in the United States carry video cameras now?" he asked. He sounded disgusted. "Some people just love invading other people's privacy."

"Film crews from television stations usually carry cameras," she said.

"No need to be sarcastic, sugar."

"I wasn't being sarcastic. I was simply pointing out a fact. Carrie must have hated having a camera in her face. Someone from

the FBI should have grabbed the film. The crime-scene investigators must not have gotten there in time."

"Should've, could've," he drawled. "That's the Bureau's motto."

"You're not going to rile me."

He laughed. "I wasn't trying to."

She rolled the window down and let the cool night air in. "Yes, you were," she said. "I've finally gotten you all figured out."

"You think so?"

She smiled. "When I first met you, I thought you must have some kind of grudge against the FBI, but now that I know you better,

I realize that isn't true at all. Your phobia is much bigger than that."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "You don't like any government agency."

"That's not true."

"When we talked about your brother-in-law working for the Justice Department, you sneered."

"Justice has too much power."

"What about the CIA? I know you worked for them."

He didn't argue or deny. "Their priorities change on a whim, leaving agents and civilians out there to hang."

"What about the IRS?"

"Everyone hates the IRS."

She'd give him that one. She kept on naming government agencies, and he continued to tell her what was wrong with each one

of them.

"I think I've made my case. You know what your biggest problem is?"

"No, but you're going to enlighten me, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh," she said. "You don't like anyone in a position of authority."

He wasn't offended by her analysis. "You know what they say. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"The FBI doesn't have absolute power."

"They think they do."

"You know what I say?"

"What?"

"Therapy. You need intense therapy to help you get rid of your hostility."

Before he could tell her he hated therapy too, she changed the subject. "I need to get to a phone and call Carrie."

"Why didn't you call her from the police station?"

"Because you would have left without me. I still can't believe you were going to abandon me. I get mad every time I think

about it."

Should he tell her the truth or not? He clenched his jaw while he thought about it. She'd sounded so disappointed in him, even hurt.

"Look…" he began, and then stopped.

"Yes?"

"Maybe I was going to stay."

"Maybe?" She poked him in his arm. "What does that mean?"

"It means I was gonna stay. Now it's your turn to squirm. How come you decided to leave your super team?"

"Stop calling them that. I'm sure Agent Knolte and the other agents are quite capable of doing a good job."

"Yeah? Then, I repeat, why did you decide to go with me?"

She shrugged. "I thought about what you said, and I agreed. It isn't smart to put all of us together in the same safe house."

"And?"

"And what? Are you waiting for a compliment?"

Before he could tell her the thought hadn't crossed his mind, she said, "Okay, fine. I think I have a better chance of surviving

with you."

"What made you cross over to the dark side?" he asked, grinning. "Did Knolte say or do something that turned you into a rogue agent?"

"I'm not an agent. I'm an analyst, and he didn't say or do anything. I still have complete faith in the Bureau. No one is more loyal than I am."

"Uh-huh," he said. "So why'd you leave?"

She had to think about it for a while. "I'm taking initiative. We're taught to do that at the Bureau."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. He nodded toward a sign on the side of the two-lane road. "There's a restaurant five miles ahead,"

he said. "I need to make a call too and get us some help."

Mr. Loner was going to ask someone for help? That was a shock.

"Then what?" she asked.

"You can call Carrie, but don't tell her where we're headed."

"How can I? I don't know where we're going."

He picked up the folded paper. "Chief Tyler has a cabin a couple of hours away. It's got a barn, and I can hide the car inside. We'll stay there tonight."

She glanced out the back window once again to make sure they weren't being followed. They hadn't seen another car in a long time, and she realized she was probably being a little paranoid, but she continued to stay on guard. One couldn't be too cautious, she reasoned.

"Do you have any guesses where Monk might be?"

"He's probably still in Colorado, and by now he's heard that your aunt and the judge are still alive."

"The FBI will be looking for us too," she said.

"Not us, sugar. You. They'll be looking for you."

"I turned the shower on in case one of the agents came upstairs, and I locked the dormitory door, but eventually Knolte will find out I'm gone, and he'll sound the alarm."

And then all hell was going to break loose. When Carter found out about the situation, he'd have her ass on a platter. She already had her argument rehearsed. She'd insist it wasn't insubordination. Carter was tough, but he was also a reasonable man. Surely he would see the merits of her taking initiative… again.

"Will the chief tell Knolte he offered you the use of his cabin?" she asked.

"No, he won't," he said. "Did he know you were going out the window?"

"No."

John Paul took the exit and pulled into the tarred parking lot adjacent to the restaurant. The neon letters were blinking Open.

"Are you going to tell me about Jilly?" He had avoided bringing up that subject until now because he had seen how Avery reacted when Tyler called the woman her mother. She didn't answer him. "You're going to have to tell me what I'm up against."

"What we're up against," she said. "Yes, I'll tell you what I know, but not on an empty stomach. Tomorrow," she promised,

"I'll tell you everything."

"Okay."

He took her hand as they walked into the diner. The colors inside made both of them squint. The walls were painted a neon

purple and orange as a backdrop to the white Formica countertops. A jukebox sat just inside the door. Elvis Presley was singing "All Shook Up" as they made their way down the narrow aisle.

John Paul chose a booth against the wall so he could watch the parking lot. He waited until Avery slid into the orange vinyl seat and then sat down across from her.

The waitress was a teenager, but she shuffled like a ninety-year-old. Her tongue was pierced, which gave her a speech impediment when she spoke.

"What can I git ya?"

They ordered turkey sandwiches and iced tea. As soon as the waitress went behind the counter, Avery dug some change out of her billfold and headed for the telephone she had spotted at the end of the aisle, between the men's and women's rest rooms.

The conversation with Carrie was mostly onesided. Her aunt was in a state. "Where are you?" she demanded. "Why aren't you here? Are you all right? Did you hear? Jilly's alive. The demon faked her own death. I didn't think she was that smart. She's like

a cat, Avery. Yeah, that's what she is. Do you realize, if you had shown up at the spa when you were supposed to, you'd have been inside that house with us?"

"Carrie, slow down," Avery said when her aunt finally paused.

Carrie took a deep breath and then told her some of what had happened from the moment she'd gotten into the car with Monk

and the other women. Avery didn't say a word while she listened to the grisly highlights.

"When I see you, I'll tell you everything," Carrie promised. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"I was so scared and worried about you, but you're okay."

"Yes, I am," Avery said, her gaze locked on John Paul. "Carrie, who's the agent in charge of watching over you?"

Her aunt spoke at the same time that Avery asked the question. "They said they're going to put us in protective custody. I'm assuming they'll fly us to Florida."

"Why Florida?"

"Because of the trial."

"What trial?"

"Oh, Avery, you didn't know? That bastard Skarrett has a trial date set. Didn't anyone notify you? They sure as hell didn't call me."

Avery was stunned by the news. She had known that there was a possibility of a new trial, but she hadn't thought it would

happen this soon.

"No, I wasn't notified."

Carrie was beside herself. "They told me this killer Jilly hired won't stop until we're dead."

"Or until we get him," she said. "And we will, Carrie. Now, please, try to calm down. Have you talked to Tony yet?"

Carrie's voice mellowed. Sniffling, she whispered, "He's beside himself with worry. He wants you to call him as soon as possible so he can hear your voice. I want to go home, Avery, and I want you to come with me, but they won't let us. I don't even know

if they'll let Tony come stay with me. I'm trying to cooperate-"

Avery interrupted. "How is the judge doing?"

"What? Oh, Sara. Her name's Sara. She's hanging in there. She trashed her knee and had to go to surgery, but she's doing

okay now. They're keeping her in ICU for another couple of hours because of her age, but that's just a precaution. The doctors already let me sit with her and talk to her for a few minutes. Oh, my God, I forgot to tell you. Sara Collins is the judge who sentenced Skarrett."

"No, that can't be right. I remember the judge. His name was Hamilton."

"Yes, Judge Hamilton heard the case and convicted Skarrett. We went back to Bel Air once the verdict was in, remember?"

"I remember."

"But Skarrett hadn't been sentenced yet. Anyway, Hamilton died, and when Skarrett came up for sentencing, Sara was the judge."

"So that's the connection," she said. "But what about the other woman?"

"Anne Trapp wouldn't go with us. It's a long story, and I'll tell you everything as soon as you get here. Are they going to bring

you to the hospital, or will I meet you at the airport? If they want us to fly to Florida, I'm not going without you. We'll have three full weeks to catch up before they decide if they're going to let us testify or not. If Monk is still on the loose-"

Avery interrupted. "Three weeks? You're telling me the new trial will start in just three weeks?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm sure they'll put us in a safe house near the courthouse so that, if we do get to testify, it will be easier getting us there."

Avery couldn't compute the information in her head. "And you're saying there's a possibility we won't be allowed to testify?"

"Honey, what's the matter with you? Aren't you listening? Yes, there is that possibility that we won't get to testify. Okay? We'd

be sitting ducks, and it would be a perfect opportunity for Monk to hurt us."

Avery gripped the phone. "No one is stopping me from testifying."

"Be reasonable."

"Do you want Skarrett to walk?" Her voice shook with her fury.

"Your safety is more important to me."

"I'm not letting him walk."

"We'll have plenty of time to talk about the trial," Carrie said. "Why aren't you asking me about Jilly?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"I hope when they catch her, I get to have five minutes alone with her."

"She'd annihilate you."

"But not you, not with all that tai chi and karate stuff you learned." Carrie sighed. "Don't be afraid of her."

Avery felt like laughing. After all the hellacious stories she'd heard about Jilly over the years, she would have to be as crazy

as Jilly not to be afraid.

"Did you see her? Was she inside the house?"

"Yes," Carrie answered. "I'll tell you everything when I see you."

"I want you to promise me that you'll do whatever the agents tell you to do. Okay, Carrie? Promise me."

"Yes, of course I will."

"Don't make their job… difficult. You know how you can get when you're upset or scared."

"I'm not scared; I'm angry. Very, very angry. Why the hell couldn't Jilly stay dead?"

"She never died," Avery pointed out.

"They better not put us in a flea-infested shack while they're protecting us. The house is in Florida, so I want something on

the beach."

"Carrie, that isn't your decision."

"If it's not nice, you can pull some strings for us. I can't wait to see you."

Avery braced herself. Her aunt had a very short fuse when things weren't going her way, and Avery was about to ignite it.

"I'm not going to be joining you. I'm not going to the safe house with-"

That was as far as she got. Carrie's scream made her cringe, and she had to move the phone away from her ear.

From where John Paul was seated, he could hear the aunt shouting. The color left Avery's face as she listened. He got up,

walked to the phone, and gently took it from her.

"Say good-bye, sugar."

"She's very upset."

"Uh-huh."

"I love you, Carrie, and I'll see you soon," she said. "Bye now."

She heard Carrie shouting, "Avery Elizabeth, don't you dare hang up this-"

John Paul placed the phone back in the cradle. "She sounds nice," he managed with a straight face.

The waitress was watching them as she placed their plates on the table. Avery pulled away from John Paul and went into the ladies' room to wash her hands. By the time she sat down in the booth, he had already devoured his sandwich and was finishing his iced tea.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea about my aunt. Granted, she can be difficult, but I'm sure, once you got to know her,

you'd love her as much as I do."

He grinned. "I don't see that happening."

She took a bite of her turkey sandwich, thought it tasted like pressed sawdust, and picked up her glass of iced tea to wash it down.

"You want this?" she asked as she pushed the plate toward him.

He pushed it back. "You need to eat that," he said as he helped himself to one of the limp potato chips.

She noticed him watching the highway beyond the parking lot. "They don't get much business here, do they?"

"They're closing in fifteen minutes. Maybe that's why we're the only customers. Tell me something, Avery. When you filled out your application to work for the Bureau, was it your goal to become an agent?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you?"

She was about to give him her standard answer, but then decided to be completely honest with him. Besides, she was pretty

sure he'd cut through the bull and know she wasn't telling him the truth.

"I thought I should want to be an agent. An FBI agent saved my life, and I think that was when I got it into my head that I

wanted to be just like him. You know, save people."

"So you were going to save the world. How old were you when you made this momentous decision?"

"Twelve. I'd just turned twelve."

"That's amazing."

"Why?"

"That you didn't change your mind, that you held on to that goal all through high school and college."

"Do you remember what you wanted to be when you were young?"

"I don't remember how old I was when I decided it would be pretty cool to be an astronaut. Maybe ten or eleven."

"That plan didn't work out?" she asked, teasing.

"Life got in the way," he said. "I ended up in engineering at Tulane, graduated, and joined the Marines."

"Why the Marines?"

"I was drunk."

She didn't buy it. "Tell me the real reason."

"I thought I could make a difference. I liked the discipline, and I wanted something different than Bowen, Louisiana."

"But you live in Bowen now, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," he said. "I had to go away to realize what I really wanted in life. I actually live outside of Bowen, in the swamp."

"You really did drop out of life, didn't you?"

"I like solitude."

"Guess you don't get much company in the swamp."

"I like that too. Where did you go to college?" he asked.

"Santa Clara University," she answered. "Then Stanford." She took another bite of her sandwich and could barely get the

horrible food down. The bread was soggy; the lettuce was wilted, and the turkey was dry.

"Neither one of us went very far away. We both stayed close to home. Carrie wanted me to go to college in L.A. so I could

work part-time for her company."

"Doing what?"

She blushed. The instantaneous reaction made him all the more curious.

"She was pushing me to do more commercials. I got roped into doing one for her when she was in a bind."

"So what'd you have to do in this commercial?"

"Hold up a bar of soap, bat my eyelashes, and sing a silly jingle."

He didn't laugh but he came close. "Sing it for me."

"No," she said. "I was awful and I hated it. I guess I'm an introvert," she added with a shrug. "Since I'd had this dream of becoming an agent for so long, Carrie gave in and stopped nagging me. We both gave in actually."

She pushed her plate to the side, and John Paul reached over and took a couple more potato chips. "How did you give in?"

She folded her paper napkin just so and placed it on the table. "I did a project at a grade school in San Jose for one of my

classes, and I really enjoyed working with the children, so much so that I considered becoming a teacher. I was good with them," she added, a hint of surprise in her voice. "I even went so far as to take a couple of the classes I would need to get a teaching certificate. I thought I could teach history. I didn't tell Carrie, though."

"Why not? What does she have against teachers?"

"Nothing. She just didn't want me to become one."

He leaned back and stared at her. "Avery, what aren't you telling me?"

Ignoring the question, she called out to the waitress to please bring them their bill.

"Come on, babe. Answer me. Why didn't she want you to teach?"

"The pay's terrible."

"What else?"

"Teachers don't get much respect. You know what they say. Those who can do, and those who can't teach. Carrie didn't think there was much… status in teaching. My aunt isn't a shrew," she said. "I know I've made her sound terrible, but she isn't like

that. Honest."

"So was that all? That was your reason for not teaching? There wasn't enough status?"

"Carrie didn't think it would be a good idea for me to be around kids."

"Why not?"

He wasn't going to let it drop. "She thought it would be too difficult for me."

"Ah."

"What does that mean?"

He homed in like a pigeon. "You can't have kids, can you?"

She wanted to tell him. She felt an overwhelming need to tell him everything, to spill her guts, as her uncle Tony would say.

She'd never felt this need before, but John Paul wasn't like any other man. He didn't give a hoot about silly things like status.

He wasn't a game player, and he didn't have a hidden agenda. What you saw was what you got. Maybe that was the reason

she was so attracted to him. And so comfortable.

"I don't know how you made that leap."

"You told me you weren't ever going to get married, which I thought was a little odd."

She jumped on his comment with a vengeance. "Why? Because all women should want to get married? You can't really

believe that. Lots of women are very happy living the single life."

He put his hand up. "Whoa," he said. "I don't disagree, but when you told me you weren't going to get married, you were

damned defensive about it. That's what I thought was odd. Now I understand why. You can't have children, and that's the

reason Carrie doesn't want you working with them. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes."

She was primed for a fight. She'd let him see her vulnerability, and she knew that if he gave her an ounce of sympathy or was

the least bit compassionate, she would lose it. She'd either pull his hair out or her own. Worse, in her estimation, she might cry.

She knew her reaction was a defense mechanism, but she didn't care. Staring into his eyes, she waited, daring him to be nice

to her.

He stared back. "Well?" she finally demanded when he didn't say a word.

"That's just damned stupid."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, sugar. You love working with kids, so that's what you ought to do. Listening to your aunt and trying to please

her is just damned stupid."

"But I'm good at my job in the Bureau."

"So what? You've got more than one talent, don't you? You can be good doing a lot of different things."

He got up to pay the bill and then made a phone call, but all the while, he never took his gaze off the parking lot. Avery looked over at the waitress who blew a bubble twice the size of her face and then leaned on the counter and stared at him.

Five minutes later he hung up the phone. "Come on. We need to get going."

She followed him to the car. He was about to open the door for her when she asked, "What are you good at doing?"

"Lots of things."

"I know you worked for the CIA. What was your talent then?"

He didn't deny it. "Shooting. I was a good shooter. No, that's not true. I wasn't just good. I was great. Eyesight of an eagle."

"Anything else you're good at doing?"

"Yeah," he drawled. He put his arm around her waist and began to slowly pull her toward him. "I'm real good at a couple of

other things too."

"Like what?"

He drew her closer and put his lips to her ear. "If things go the way I plan, you'll get to see firsthand," he whispered.

"Oh, brother," she answered breathlessly.

Could he feel her goose bumps? Probably, she thought as she sighed and turned to look into his eyes.

Smiling gently, he kissed her warm, soft mouth, taking his time coaxing a response. She was becoming impossible to resist.

The dazed look in her eyes made him feel arrogantly pleased with himself. "We'd better get out of here before I get carried

away and show you right now."

He opened the door for her and then got behind the wheel. They drove out of the lot and once again headed toward Denver.

We need to put some distance between us and that diner," he told her. "The waitress will remember you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. You're definitely memorable."

"News flash, sugar," she drawled, trying to imitate his sexy southern accent. "Bubble Gum was staring at you."

He shrugged. "It's going to take us at least another hour or more to get to Tyler's cabin. If I see a store on the way, we'll stop

and get some supplies."

"I doubt anything will be open this late."

"And that's important because?"

"Shame on you. You're going to break in?"

"They'll never know I was there."

She didn't try to dissuade him. She was too busy thinking about his earlier remark. What would happen if things went the way he planned?

Thirty miles down the road, they found a fishing tackle/grocery store. It was dark inside.

John Paul's skills seemed endless. He got the door unlocked without making a scratch, charmed the black Doberman guard

dog, and shopped to his heart's content. She helped him carry two gallons of milk and four grocery sacks to the car.

He calculated the expense as he sacked the items and left four twenty-dollar bills sticking out from under the cash register.

"How long are we going to be staying at Tyler's place?" she asked when they were once again on their way. "We've got enough food for a month."

"We'll stay at least one night, maybe two," he answered. "Tyler told me there's a little town about fifteen miles from the cabin.

I've got Theo checking on a couple of things, and when I find out what is going on, we'll decide what to do."

"I'm not going to miss that trial."

"I understand. May I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"Is Skarrett the reason you can't have children?"

"Yes," she said. "A bullet hit just right, but you know what? I would never have had children anyway. I wouldn't take the risk

that what's wrong with Jilly is genetic. So, you see, it doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does," he argued. "Skarrett took that choice away from you. That's what matters."

He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice, but she didn't become upset. What he'd said was true.

She changed the subject to a less stressful one, talking about silly things that had happened to her when she was growing up.

He told her stories about his life and his family, and when he talked about his father, she laughed several times.

"People really call him Big Daddy?"

"Yeah, they do. You'll like him," he predicted.

He was assuming she would meet his father someday. She'd like that. She wanted to know about his family and his home and

his work. She wanted to know everything about him. Before she could continue the conversation, they saw two pairs of headlights coming up the road toward them.

He swerved onto a side road and turned his lights off.

They silently waited until the cars passed by.

"When you asked your brother-in-law to help, were you worried he might tell the FBI where we're going?"

"Because he's with Justice?"

"Yes."

"Family comes first, sugar. Always."

"Still…"

"He won't tell, and he will help. I told him what I needed done, and he agreed."

"Good. I'm glad we can trust him."

They waited in the dark for a few minutes before he felt it was safe for them to go.

Avery's mind wandered and then circled around and around what he'd whispered in her ear. Maybe if she stopped staring at

him, she could think about something else. It had been such a long time since she'd been intimate with a man, and she thought

she had become an expert at blocking those thoughts and urges.

She had been an expert anyway, until he came into her life. Now the floodgates were wide open, and all she could think about was touching him. Everywhere.

For thirty more minutes she battled to think about something other than sex. She mentally balanced her checkbook, then

calculated how long she could stay in her apartment without a paycheck coming in. Three months or four? If she got fired.

She started tapping her foot on the floor. Who was she kidding? Of course she was going to get fired. They couldn't arrest her

for being insubordinate, but would Carter charge her with hindering an investigation?

John Paul put his hand on her knee. "How come you're so jittery?" Then, before she could come up with a good lie, he said,

"There it is."

He pulled onto a dirt road. His night vision was better than hers. She hadn't even noticed the little curve. "You're sure?"

His hand was still on her leg, and she wasn't inclined to move it. She stared straight ahead, pretending to watch the road as she thought about ripping his clothes off him.

Was she turning into a slut? She shook her head. No, she was simply having normal urges, like any other woman, but because

she hadn't had those urges in so long, she wasn't handling herself well.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

Sex, damn it. I'm thinking about sex. "Nothing much."

"Yeah?"

Even his voice was sexy. Threading her fingers through her hair, she realized how tense she was, and how horribly unsure of herself.

They drove around a bank of trees, and then the road flattened into what she thought might be a field. It was impossible to tell in the dark. She began tapping her foot on the floorboard again. She was nervous about being alone with him in the secluded cabin.

He pulled up to the steps in front. When he turned the motor and the lights off, it was pitch black. She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face.

"You stay put until I get the key from under the porch step."

She couldn't have moved if her life had depended on it. Her legs felt like rubber, and she thought she just might start hyperventilating. Fortunately, she had her wild thoughts under control by the time he'd unlocked the front door and turned the lights on inside the cabin. She got out and helped him carry in the bags.

The cabin was charming and smelled of pine and Lysol. A stone fireplace faced the front door and was flanked by two wicker chairs with red-and-yellow-checked overstuffed cushions. The hunter green sofa had seen better days, for the arms were

frayed, and the fabric was faded, but it looked very comfortable. To the right of the front door was a round pine table and four single ladder-back chairs.

Beyond the table was a narrow kitchen with a back door. She placed a bag of groceries on the counter, then walked through

the living room to the other side of the cabin. There were two doors along the short hallway. The one on the left opened into a bathroom. At the end of the hall she opened the other door and stepped inside. Soft light spilled into the spacious room. A double bed with an old iron headboard was covered with a multicolored quilt.

The longer she stared at the bed, the faster her heart beat. She could hear John Paul putting the groceries away, knew she should probably help, but couldn't seem to make herself move.

"It's just a bed, for Pete's sake. What's the big deal?"

Disgusted with herself for being so nervous, she grabbed her duffel bag and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

She hadn't bothered to pack a pretty nightgown or a robe. After she dried her hair and brushed her teeth, she put on a pair of skimpy pink panties and her ratty old Santa Clara T-shirt. It was at least three sizes too big for her. It hung like a tent and ended just above her knees.

Staring into the mirror, she took inventory and decided she came up lacking in the feminine wiles department. For the first time in her life, she wanted to look pretty. Boy, wouldn't Carrie have a good laugh now? She was always criticizing the way Avery dressed, and for once, Avery had to agree.

There wasn't anything she could do about her appearance now. With a sigh, she put her bag in the cor-

ner of the bedroom so she wouldn't trip over it, then walked into the living room just as the front door opened and John Paul came inside. He shut the door, bolted it, then turned around and froze.

"What happened to you?" she asked. He didn't answer her. "You look like you showered in the dirt. What happened?" she repeated.

John Paul couldn't make himself stop staring at her legs. Fantasies were raging in his mind. "I put the car in the barn, and I thought… the oil… the tires…"

"Yes?"

"What?"

He finally forced himself to look into her eyes, knowing he probably resembled a buck caught in the headlights. When he'd

noticed her standing in the doorway, his knees damned near buckled. That well-scrubbed look was intoxicating. She was simply gorgeous. Did she have any idea of the power she had over him?

"What about the oil and the tires?"

"That's right."

He was blathering like an idiot, and she was fully responsible for his radical drop in IQ. He strode past her, muttering incoherent words as he went into the bathroom and shut the door.

She took a bottled water out of the fridge, turned the lights off in the kitchen and the living room, and then went into the bedroom. She kept telling herself to relax as she folded the quilt. She found clean sheets on the closet shelf and put them on the bed with a lightweight blanket she pulled out of the cedar chest. She climbed on top, scooted to the middle. Straightening her back, she folded her legs in the lotus position. She tried to clear her mind and concentrate on her breathing. Just as she was about to sit down in her imaginary porch swing without a care in the world, she was interrupted.

"Going to your happy place?"

Her eyes flew open. John Paul was standing in the doorway watching her. He wore a pair of shorts and nothing else. He hadn't even bothered to button them. He had taken the time to shave, she noticed, and he'd washed his hair too. There were big drops

of water glistening on his tanned neck and shoulders.

Sitting on the bed definitely put her at a distinct disadvantage. If they were going to approach their situation as adults, she

wanted to be on equal footing. She scrambled to get off the bed.

"Yes, I was," she said. "I was trying to relax."

He yawned loudly. "Avery?"

"Yes?"

He leaned casually against the door frame, one ankle crossed over the other, his arms loosely folded across his chest. She tried

not to stare at the dark swirl of hair around his navel.

"Am I sleeping on the sofa or in the bed?"

Did she have the courage to be completely honest with him, to tell him what she wanted? Put up or shut up time, she thought a little frantically. She cleared her throat, then whispered, "In bed… with me, if that's what you want."

Damn it, she sounded vulnerable, maybe even a little afraid. She couldn't quite manage to look into his eyes. "If you want," she repeated hoarsely.

"Yes, I want."

John Paul took a step toward her but stopped when she put her hand up. "Not so fast, Renard."

"What?" he warily asked.

"There are a couple of ground rules we need to go over first."

She wasn't kidding. He would have laughed if she hadn't looked so nervous. "Ground rules? Like no hitting below the belt?

That kind of rule?" When she didn't immediately answer, he asked, "Are we going to box, or are you going to let me-"

"I'm keeping my T-shirt on. Agreed?"

"Okay, if you want to, but if you change your mind and want to take it off, that's fine too."

"If I want to, I will, but I don't want to, and I probably won't. Agreed?"

At this point he'd lost track of what she was negotiating. "Yeah, sure."

He took another step toward her. "I'm not finished."

He grinned. "I didn't think so. Okay, what else?"

"You have to use protection. I can't have children, but we haven't had blood tests, and we…"

"I planned on using protection," he said when she stammered to a halt.

"You planned?"

"Uh-huh." He pulled the condom out of his pocket and tossed it on the bed. "Anything else?"

"That was pretty presumptuous."

"Avery, if I don't touch you pretty soon, I'm gonna go nuts, so hurry up and finish the rules."

Her heart was racing. "If you're disappointed…"

"I won't be."

"But if you are, you keep it to yourself. Don't complain to me."

"Honey, are you always this uptight before sex?"

"Do you agree?"

"Okay. I won't complain."

"This isn't funny, John Paul. I'm serious."

He'd waited for as long as he could. "Now it's my turn," he said as he grabbed a wad of her T-shirt and pulled her toward him. "You are underneath here somewhere, aren't you?"

He let go and put his arms around her waist. His hand slipped up under the fabric and splayed wide across her back. She didn't

try to wiggle away when his fingers touched her scars. He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck just below her ear.

Shivers raced down Avery's spine. Her hands had been balled into fists, but as he tickled her earlobe with the tip of his tongue,

she began to relax. His sweet warm breath against her sensitive skin only made her shivers intensify. She could feel the strength, the power of those hard, steely muscles under her fingertips. How could anyone this strong be so very gentle? She sighed into his neck and dropped her head on his shoulder.

"Pay attention, sweetheart. I've got some ground rules too."

She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. Why hadn't she noticed how incredibly beautiful they were? When he smiled, they

lit up.

"Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

Trust him? She was falling utterly in love with him. Of course she trusted him. She was terrified of admitting it, though.

"That's not a rule."

He wouldn't let her dodge the question, and when she tried to distract him by pressing against his groin and kissing him, he

shook his head. "I already know the answer, but I want… no, I need to hear you say the words."

"You are the most opinionated, obstinate, exasperating man I've ever known, but almost from the moment we met, I felt this strange connection. It's as though I've waited all my life to feel so safe… and free. I can't explain it," she whispered.

He tilted her chin up, brushed his mouth over hers, and then whispered, "Then trust me. That's my rule. You have to trust me."

She thought she understood what he was asking. And he was right. Love and trust went hand in hand.

It was now or never. Please, God, don't let him be repulsed. She stepped back into the soft light from the bedside lamp, waited until he had let go of her, and then, before her courage completely deserted her, she pulled the T-shirt over her head and tossed

it on the floor. She turned so that he could see her ravaged back.

Most of the damage had been done to her lower spine. The angry, ugly scars puckered her skin. She was afraid to turn around,

to look into his eyes.

"Sugar?"

There was laughter in his voice. Confused by his reaction, she stood as stiff as a corpse with her hands at her sides, staring at

the wall.

"Yes?" she whispered.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm a little more interested in the front right now."

"What…"

He gently turned her around and pulled her up against him. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, "Damn, I've been dreaming about this. It's better than the dream, though. Much better."

"But my back… You saw…"

"We'll get to that," he promised. "I've got a lot of territory to cover," he whispered as he kissed a tear away from her cheek.

"But in my present condition, I've gotta prioritize."

Before she could argue, or worry, or cry, his mouth took absolute possession of hers in a kiss that was sinfully carnal. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth in a ritual of lovemaking until she was trembling with desire.

His hands were everywhere, caressing, stroking, teasing, as his mouth slanted over hers again and again. He rid her of her inhibitions, and she eagerly kissed him back. She stroked his chest, loving the feel of his coarse, dark hair under her fingertips.

He growled low in his throat with pleasure when she tweaked one of his nipples between her fingertips, and so she did it again.

They were both panting for breath when he ended the kiss and stepped back. He let his shorts drop to the floor, staring into her eyes, reveling in the passion he saw there.

Avery held his gaze as she slid her hand down to remove her panties. The look of surprise when she realized they were on the floor made him smile over his handiwork.

She let him have his moment. "You're good," she whispered shakily.

He followed her onto the bed. Bracing his arms on either side of her, he leaned up and said, "You haven't seen anything yet."

His face was taut with passion. The way he was looking at her made her feel bold. "Neither have you," she whispered back. She moved restlessly against him, her hands slowly easing down his sides. His body was as hot as his gaze.

John Paul loved the way she touched him. Hell, he loved everything about her. She made him crazy. She pulled him down for another kiss, and this time he let her be the aggressor. Their tongues dueled as their hands learned the secrets of each other's bodies.

When she touched his erection, he thought he might just lose it then and there, and he tried to get her to stop, but she wouldn't. He could barely breathe because of the ecstasy she evoked. His hand slipped down between her thighs, his fingers caressing her intimately until she arched off the bed and cried out.

He held off as long as he could until he was desperate to be inside of her. He hungrily kissed her soft, sweet mouth as his knee nudged her thighs apart. Gripping her derriere, he leaned up so that he could watch her. In one slow push, he entered her, then plunged deep.

She arched up against him at the same time, crying out in rapture as she wrapped her legs around his thighs and squeezed him tight.

Capturing the sides of her face with his hands, his mouth covered hers and his tongue sank into her warm sweet mouth. He took his time. Long, slow thrusts that cost him dearly. Beads of perspiration covered his brow, and as he made love to her, he realized

it had never been this incredible before. Never.

Avery was overwhelmed by the sensations rushing through her. They were so intense, so new. She couldn't let him slow the

pace any longer. She came undone in his arms, wild, more demanding, her nails scoring his shoulders as she met his thrusts with equal passion.

Driven to please her and give her fulfillment before he claimed his own, he tried to slow down, but she would have none of it. Their lovemaking turned uncontrolled, primitive, almost savage. He was consumed.

Avery could feel her control vanishing, but she wasn't afraid. It was the most amazing feeling to be so uninhibited and to let

herself go without fear or worry. She knew she was safe in his arms, and as she reached the precipice and her body began to shiver for release, she arched up against him. Wave after wave of undiluted pleasure coursed through her body as she clung to him.

Impossible to hold back, his orgasm was triggered by hers, and he climaxed deep inside of her, clenching his jaw in ecstasy.

They stayed joined together as one for long, blissful minutes. Their breathing was ragged, and neither one of them had the

strength to move. Their hearts pounded in unison. He buried his face in her silky hair, closed his eyes as he inhaled her

wonderful fragrance.

"Damn," he whispered. She'd taken every ounce of his strength. His bones felt like liquid as he tried to move so he wouldn't

crush her.

She obviously didn't mind his weight because she squeezed him when he shifted his position, and whispered, "Not yet."

Had he been too rough with her? The thought popped into his head and anchored there. He could have been more gentle, but

she'd been so wonderfully uninhibited, he'd gone a little crazy.

"Avery? You okay?"

She smiled because of the worry she heard in his voice. And then she whispered, "So that's what all the fuss was about."

And then she laughed with such delight, he smiled in spite of his exhaustion.

With a sigh, he rolled away, then got up and went into the bathroom.

She pulled the sheet up, adjusted her pillow, and fell back. She was still a little overwhelmed by what she had just experienced. Sex, she decided, sex with John Paul anyway, could definitely become addictive.

The bed springs groaned when John Paul stretched out beside her. She opened her eyes and smiled. He looked so arrogantly proud of himself. He was on his side with his head propped up staring at her.

She looked thoroughly ravaged. Passion lingered in her eyes, and her lips were swollen from his kisses.

She knew she'd satisfied him, but she still needed him to tell her so. Silly how she could feel so powerful a minute ago and now

the old insecurities were creeping back. No, she hadn't disappointed him. Why wasn't he telling her so?

He could see it happening. In her eyes. They were clouded. He didn't think she was regretting anything… just worried maybe.

He knew he'd guessed right when she said, "What are you thinking?"

He tugged on the sheet, pulling it down to the tips of her breasts. She pulled it back up.

"Bet I can get this off you faster than a prom dress," he drawled.

"Oh, brother. You're pretty happy with yourself right now, aren't you?"

"Damn right I am," he said as he leaned down and kissed her. His tongue slipped inside and tickled the roof of her mouth.

When he pulled back, she was breathless. But then, so was he.

Oh, how she loved this man. He was so completely perfect for her. She reached up to brush his hair off his forehead, an excuse

to keep touching him. She couldn't seem to get enough.

" 'Heavens to Betsy'?" he drawled. "That's what you said, sugar, when you were coming apart in my arms. Actually, you screamed it."

She laughed. "I did not."

"Yeah, you did."

"I know what you shouted, but I'm not going to repeat it."

His grin was lecherous. "Guess what."

Her fingers trailed down the muscled cord on the side of his neck, then crossed his shoulder. She gently traced it with her fingertips.

"What?" she asked lazily.

"Prom dress is gone."

Startled, she lifted her head and looked down. The sheet was around her ankles. "You are good."

He leaned down and kissed each breast. His fingers slowly circled her navel. A jagged scar crisscrossed the lower part of her abdomen. The raised, puckered center indicated a bullet had done the damage. Probably a.38, he thought. Or maybe a.45.

Damn, it was a miracle she had survived. He leaned forward and took his time kissing every inch of her stomach, smiling as she inhaled sharply. He rolled back on his side so he could watch her face as his hand slid down into her soft curls.

Avery was having trouble catching her breath. "Do you want…"

"Oh, yeah. I want."

Moaning softly, she moved restlessly against him, her toes rubbing his lower legs.

She tried to touch him, but he grabbed her hand. "Relax, sugar. Let me…"

It was as far as he got. She was surprisingly strong. And bold. She pushed him onto his back and leaned over him. "Relax?

I don't think so, John Paul. This is a team sport, isn't it?"

He couldn't answer her. Her hands had captured his arousal, and she was slowly driving him wild with her caresses.

"And…" she whispered as she straddled his hips and kissed him passionately.

"And what?" he asked, his voice as coarse as sandpaper.

Her eyes sparkled when she answered. "I'm definitely a team player."