Star-Spangled Bride

FOUR

The helicopter hovered and then landed with a soft thud on the grassy plateau.

"Come on." Ronnie grabbed Gabe's arm and started running toward the aircraft. "We have to get you out of here. Those lights can be seen for miles."

Gabe's long legs were easily outdistancing hers. "Leaving you right on ground zero," he muttered savagely.

"The sooner you take off, the sooner I'll be on my way too."

The door of the helicopter was opening and a slim, wiry man wearing a leather flight jacket jumped down.

"Bredlowe?" she asked as she came within calling distance.

"Right."

She reached into her bag, drew out her camcorder, and told Gabe, "You go ahead. I want to catch a shot of you two together."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Nevertheless he sprinted forward and grasped the man's hand.

Bredlowe's eyes were glistening in the lights of the helicopter as he said something to Gabe. She couldn't hear over the roar of the rotors, but there was no mistaking either the emotion or the drama of the greeting between the two men.

Gabe turned to her. "Put the camera down and come meet my friends." His voice was gruff and his eyes as moist as Bredlowe's. She reluctantly switched off the camera and hurried forward. It was great stuff, but she had enough footage and Gabe needed to get under way.

"Dan Bredlowe, Ronnie Dalton," Gabe said. "Ronnie tells me you've already met by phone."

Bredlowe's hand enveloped Ronnie's. "Lord, I didn't think you could pull it off. You're a bloody miracle."

At closer range he looked to be in his late twenties, with a shock of curly brown hair and hazel eyes that gazed at her as if she were Mother Teresa and Michelle Pfeiffer rolled into one. It made her uncomfortable. "Hi," she said awkwardly. "You'd better get him out of here." She turned to Gabe and thrust out her hand. "It's time for you to go. Good-bye."

He took her hand and warmth flowed through her as it had the first time he had touched her.

He was staring at her, his face impassive, but she could sense the storm of emotion in him. He didn't like this. Well, she didn't either, but she didn't have a choice.

"Oh, will you do me a favor?" She withdrew her hand, opened her camera, and took out the cassette. "Will you keep this for me? I'll send for it as soon as I'm safe."

"So you won't get caught with it?" he asked caustically.

"I won't get caught. It's just safe practice to guard the story. Will you?"

He took the cassette and jammed it into his jacket pocket. "Come with me."

She shook her head, a tremulous smile on her lips. "Not possible. And you promised not to nag me."

"I won't nag you." He gestured to the pilot in the plane. "This is David Carroll, my pilot."

She turned her head to see the brown-skinned pilot, his wide smile gleaming in the lighted dash of the cockpit as he leaned forward to offer his hand.

"A pleasure," he said softly. "Nice to meet-" Pain exploded in her jaw! Blackness followed.

Dan gasped. "Gabe, what the hell are you-"

"Grab that camera," Gabe rapped as he caught Ronnie's slumping body. "She'll castrate me if anything happens to it."

Dan grabbed the camera as it fell from Ronnie's lax fingers. "She might do it anyway. A right to the jaw isn't the way most people show gratitude for saving their lives."

"It was that or let her risk her neck again trying to reach the border." He carried Ronnie to the helicopter, settled her in one of the backseats, and fastened her seat belt. "No way was I going to let that happen. Let's get the hell out of here, Dave."

The pilot watched him climb into the seat beside Ronnie and fasten his seat belt. "Is she okay? She's out like a light."

"You hit her pretty hard," Dan accused.

"Shut up and get in the helicopter," Gabe said through his teeth. He was feeling enough guilt; he didn't need any more heaped on him.

Dan jumped into the helicopter, taking the other front seat, and slammed the door. "Take off, Dave." As the helicopter became airborne he turned back to look at Gabe. "I suppose you had a reason for this. Why didn't she want to come with us?"

"Something about not wanting to be in the limelight." He gendy tilted Ronnie's head so it lay more comfortably on the headrest. The bruise was already showing on that exquisite peaches-and-cream skin. He felt like one of those creeps who battered women. When she woke up he'd be lucky if she didn't use that.357 Magnum on him. Hell, maybe he'd let her. "How bad is the reception committee going to be at Marasef airport?"

"There will be our own reporters, of course." Dan made a face. "And we had no choice but to tell the CIA you'd been released so they could pull their men out of the danger zone. That means there will probably be leaks to other news services."

"So we can expect a media circus."

"But with our own network in the center ring," Dan said quickly. "And once the officials whisk you away to Frankfurt for medical tests, we'll be the only ones permitted to-"

"No Frankfurt."

"You know all hostages go to the hospital there for medical assessment."

"That doesn't mean I have to go." He turned back to Ronnie. She looked as fragile and breakable as one of the porcelain dolls in his aunt's collection.

I'm not going to let you mess up my life.

Ronnie had known the risks of staying, but she had been willing to take them for reasons of her own. He had not been able to leave her, but he had no right to judge the consequences of her plan of action when he was ignorant of the nature of those risks.

He leaned forward and spoke to David. "Change direction. Head south, we're not going to Marasef airport."

She was being carried down a gleaming ivory-and-gold tile hallway, passing magnificent paintings, priceless panels with intricate frets…

"A museum?" she muttered. "What the devil-am I doing in a museum?"

"Not a museum. A palace," Gabe said. "Open the door, Dan."

A palace?

Gabe strode into a chamber as magnificent as the corridor through which she had been carried. "Thanks, Dan. Now get out of here before the fireworks start."

"Gladly," Dan said. "See you later."

She was being placed on something silken and cushioned, a chaise lounge. Then Gabe was gone.

A moment later an ice pack settled against her jaw. She flinched, her eyes focusing on Gabe's face a few inches from her own.

"Easy," he said quietly. "Let me hold it here. The ice will bring the swelling down."

"Why should I have-" Her eyes widened in realization and outrage. "You hit me!"

"How else was I to-" He gasped when her fist connected with his stomach and the breath left him.

She jumped to her feet, glaring at him. "Damn you!"

He straightened painfully. "At least you didn't use the gun."

"I should have," she said with ferocity. "You deserve it. What gave you the right to interfere? I told you I couldn't come with you to-"

"Hold it!" he interrupted. "I agree I deserve any reasonable punishment you care to dish out. Do you want to hit me again? I won't even put up a fight."

Her hands slowly unclenched. "You shouldn't have done it. You had no right."

"And you had no right to put me in a position where I felt helpless to do anything else. Do you think I like beating up on women?"

"How do I know?" She gingerly touched her jaw. "You certainly hit me hard enough."

"I had to knock you out." He grimaced. "But I had no idea you had the proverbial glass jaw. I thought you'd wake up in the helicopter."

"You shouldn't have done it," she repeated. She looked around the huge room. The decor was a cross between Mediterranean and elegant French Provincial. The couch was pure turquoise-cushioned opulence, the floor white marble tile covered by a delicate cream-and-blue Aubusson carpet, and the French doors might have graced a harem in ancient days. "Is this a hotel?"

He shook his head. "The palace."

She vaguely remembered him saying something about one. "What palace?"

"The royal palace of Sedikhan. You seemed so adamant about avoiding the spotlight, I had Dave land us on the palace grounds instead ofthe airport. I radioed ahead and got permission from Sheikh Ben Raschid, the reigning head of state, and he'll run interference for us until we get our bearings."

A flare of hope shot through her. She might be able to salvage this disaster yet. "Then nobody knows I'm here?"

"Not yet." He paused. "But I'm not going to lie to you. We had to tell the authorities I'm here and Dan said your name was mentioned to the CIA as the instigator of the rescue attempt."

"Damn, they might as well have broadcast it by satellite." She drew a long breath, trying to mink. "It may still be okay. I can take off right away. If I'm not here, they can't ask questions." She looked around the suite. "Where's my camera bag?"

"Still in the helicopter," he said. "And there's no sense you running away yet. I don't deny there will be leaks, but no one is going to be able to reach you while you're here."

He made it sound so easy. He didn't realize her only chance was to get away before- She was lying to herself, she realized. It was already too late."

"That won't help," she said dully. "They havemy name and they'll start to dig. You should have left me in Said Ababa."

"It's done. You're here now. Stop bellyach-ing."

She blinked and then said reluctantly, "You're right, no use crying over spilled milk. I'll just have to clean it up."

"No, I'll clean it up," he said. "But I have to know how much damage control is needed. Why are you so afraid of-"

"It's my business," she said. "Stay out of it."

"Not likely. I brought you here and I'm not-" He stopped as he saw her set expression. "Okay, I'll drop it for now. You could use a good night's sleep and so could I."

She glanced at the king-size bed across the room that was draped with gauze curtains. She had a sudden memory of the chipped headboard of the bed they had shared last night at Fatima's.

As if he had read her mind he said softly, "You can't say I don't provide better for you than you did for me."

She felt a surge of heat. He had not mentioned leaving her. Did he mean to share this suite and that bed with her tonight? Her gaze flew back to his face and she saw him shake his head.

"I'll find my own bunk. I need to get some sleep myself."

The emotion that cascaded through her was a confused rush of relief and disappointment. She tried to make her tone casual. "I didn't think anything else."

"Yes, you did, and so did I. It was as disturbing as hell." He turned away and walked toward the door. "I'll join you here for breakfast at ten and we'll talk."

"I get up early. Six at the latest."

"Then cultivate the luxury life until I get here. Right now I have to go pay my respects to His Majesty and ask a few favors. But tomorrow I'm going to put a hell of a lot of questions to you and I'm going to get some answers."

She scowled. "Maybe."

"Answers," he repeated.

"What would you do if I told you to go jump in the lake to find your blasted answers?" She lifted her chin. "Punch me out again?"

His compelling gaze met her own. "No, but I'll find another way to get them."

Lord, he was determined, she thought with a shiver of apprehension as she watched the door close behind him.

Well, so what? She had fought determined men before and come out on top.

But she didn't want to fight Gabe Falkner. She respected him and admired him and-

She pulled back sharply before she could complete the thought and moved forward to the French doors. She stared out at a lovely courtyard that was crowned by a mosaic-tiled fountain illuminated by strategically placed lights. This place was a vision of peace and beauty, a balm to her frazzled nerves after those weeks in Said Ababa. She should really go find her camera and get out of here, but she knew she wasn't going to do it. It would do no harm to stay in this lovely place for a night. She could leave in the morning. She was tired and needed a bath and-

None of that mattered. They were all excuses. The truth was that she couldn't bear to break from Gabe Falkner with this discord between them. He had been part of her life too long. She wanted the separation to be clean and without anger.

"It's about time you got here," she said as Gabe walked into the suite at eleven the next day. "I hate people who aren't prompt. I've been up since six and prowling around in this- You look terrible. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I'm just a little tired. I couldn't sleep last night. I guess I'm suffering from aftershock." He made a face. "I never thought it could happen to me. I'm not exactly the sensitive type."

But he was sensitive in his relations with others, she wanted to say. He seemed to possess a sixth sense, an empathy she had seen in few men. She felt a surge of sympathy mixed with guilt. He was so tough outwardly she had almost forgotten the ordeal he had just gone through.

"Well, what are you doing standing there?" she asked. "Sit down and eat something." She settled herself at the table the servants had rolled into the suite over an hour ago, uncovered the warming dishes, and spooned eggs and bacon on a plate. "Protein, that's what you need. Energy food. When I was held in Kuwait, I used to pet this terrible hunger for bacon. Sometimes I thought I could smell it. What did you get a yen for?"

"Well, I have to admit my primary yen wasn't for food." He went on immediately, "Big Macs." He started to eat the eggs. "I'm a fast-food junkie. I acquired the taste when I became a correspondent. There was almost always a McDonald's in any country I visited. It was like a little piece of home, as American as apple pie."

"Yeah," she said wistfully. "I guess it is."

His gaze raked her face. "That bruise is still pretty evident."

She shrugged. "I've had worse." Grinning, she added, "And given worse."

His hand went to his stomach. "You did last night. Do you want to see my bruise?"

Powerful shoulders gleaming in the lamplight, muscles rippling in a washboard-firm abdomen.

"I don't believe that's necessary." Her hand was trembling a little as she poured coffee into his cup and then her own. "I know my own power."

"I don't think you do." His gaze was fixed thoughtfully on her face. "You pack a punch that doesn't show up on the anatomy." He suddenly chuckled. "Or not in the usual places."

He was speaking of arousal, sexual response. She was used to much more graphic terms and yet she could feel the heat in her cheeks. "I think you need to get home to Mora Renord. Have you called her yet? I'm sure she'd come flying to your bed."

"To 'take the edge off'? I told you I don't use women." He leaned back in his chair. "And I don't want Mora here."

The explosive satisfaction that tore through her was a shock. She looked down at her coffee cup. "Why not?"

"Maybe I prefer Orphan Annie."

She looked up in confusion. "What?" She caught her breath as she met his gaze. "Me?"

"Oh, yes," he murmured. "Most certainly you."

He wanted her. It probably stemmed from propinquity and the provocativeness of their situation last night, but it hadn't ended at Fatima's. He still wanted to go to bed with her. She could feel the swelling of her breasts, the same tingling between her thighs she had experienced in that bed at the bordello.

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" he asked softly.

"Sure." She lifted her cup to her lips. "You're probably so horny that Godzilla would look good to you, and I'm not Orphan Annie."

He chuckled. "And you're not Godzilla either."

"Nope." She shrugged, feigning casualness. 'But I have no intention of crawling into your bed to assuage a year of sexual drought." She sipped her coffee. "I only stuck around to say good-bye. After breakfast I'm on the road."

His smile vanished. "No way."

She ignored his words. "It's been an experience I won't forget. I hope everything goes well for you. Oh, and I'll need my camera and that cassette I gave you."

"You couldn't forget that," he said, acid in his voice. "Shut the door and walk away, but remember the camera."

"It's all I have," she said simply.

The grimness was wiped from his face. "Lord, what am I supposed to say to that?"

"Nothing. Just give me my camera."

He slowly shook his head. "I'd be a fool to do that. I obviously have a valuable hostage. That camera is almost a person to you. I'll trade you."

"For what?" she asked warily.

"Information. I'll give you your camera if you tell me what you're afraid of."

"No deal. I'll get another camera."

"But not like this one. It's been with you for such a long time, it's become almost a part of you."

He was right. She had saved for over a year for the money to buy that camera, and she loved it. "You bastard."

"Tell me," he coaxed. "What do I have to say to convince you that I won't betray you? ForLord's sake, don't you see I want to help you?"

"You can't help me. You blew it when you brought me here."

"Then I'll put it back together. What the hell do you think I'll do? I'm not going to hurt you, Ronnie."

He couldn't help her either, and she had never told anyone, not even Jed. She should keep her silence. She felt a surge of frustration at the thought. Lord, she was weary of that silence, of not being able to share.

"Ronnie?"

"I don't have a passport," she suddenly found herself saying.

"Is that all?" His expression cleared. "Did you eave it in Said Ababa? No problem. We'll get you a replacement. All we have to do is report the one you lost."

"That's not it. I didn't lose my passport. I still have it. It's just-" She stopped, then blurted out, "It's a phony."

He stiffened. "Phony?"

"You heard me. I bought it on the black market. It's a damn good one, but if anyone tarted delving, they'd find out it was a phony."

She stood up and started pacing. "How am I going to get back to the States? I'm a journalist,for heaven's sake, I need to go where the stories are. I suppose I could buy another passport under another name to use outside the country, but they'd alert U.S. Immigration and I'd never be able to-"

"Wait a minute," Gabe interrupted. "Back up. Why did you have to buy a passport to begin with? Why didn't you just apply for one?"

"Because I'm not an American citizen," she said jerkily. "My father was a naturalized American citizen. When he was convicted of arms running and lying on his citizenship application regarding the crime, he was deported and stripped of his citizenship before I was born."

"I see," he said. "And you're being tarred for your father's sins."

"Not entirely." Her smile was without mirth. "I was picked up by government agents in El Salvador for acting as a lookout for Evan. He managed to get me away from them, but that makes me a criminal too."

"And how old were you when you committed this heinous crime?"

"Eleven. Evan started using me for a lookout when I was eight. No one ever suspects kids." She gave him a sober look. "And it was a heinous crime. Evan says he only supplies a demandthat would be met by someone else anyway, but I've never fooled myself. Wars can't be fought without guns. You have to be responsible for your own morals and not worry about someone else's."

"You only did what your father told you to do," he said roughly. "You were only a kid, for God's sake."

"I dug in and told him I wouldn't do it any longer when I was fifteen, but it was too late. It's not going to make any difference to Immigration how old I was. I have a criminal record and the United States doesn't want undesirables like me in the country. Like father, like daughter." She tried to smile as she shrugged. "It's all in how you're perceived in this black-and-white world. Immigration doesn't recognize any grays."

"You're not gray, dammit. You're as-" He stopped and then said, "I take it you're afraid the media is going to unearth your unsavory past."

"You know they will. Within two weeks they'll know everything about me down to the number of fillings in my teeth… Your release is the biggest story of the year and it's going to start a press feeding frenzy. You'd read the riot act to any of your journalists who didn't search out every kernel of a story."

"My reporters don't go in for yellow journalism."

"You only say that because you're feeling guilty that you goofed in bringing me here. The truth isn't out of bounds to any reporter and it's not yellow journalism. I'd go after every detail of your story myself. It's only good reporting and-"

"All right, I'll grant you all that's true and I've put you in a rotten position. What's your solution?"

"I'll lie low and stay away from the U.S. Jed will give me assignments."

"In Yugoslavia, no doubt."

"Maybe."

"The hell he will," Gabe said violently. He pushed back his chair. "I'll think of something else."

"Like what?" She shook her head. "Do you think I haven't tried to think of another way out?" She swallowed. "I liked pretending I was an American. I felt… I liked it."

"If you're not American, what nationality are you?"

She shook her head. "My father thought my mother was Swedish, but he wasn't sure."

"Why the devil didn't he find out?"

"They both lived on the fringe." She smiled bitterly. "You don't know what it's like. You come together for a while and then you drift apart. You travel from country to country and never settle, never belong anywhere. You're the person your passport says you are, and when the passport becomes obsolete, your identity is too. Then you get a new passport and become someone else."

"Lord, what a hell of a life for a kid."

"You get used to it."

"Sure you do."

"You do. You just have to take one day at a time, enjoy every pleasure that comes your way, and ignore all the rest."

"I'd make a bet there were a lot of things you couldn't ignore."

"Some." She grimaced. "For Pete's sake, stop making me out to be a martyr. I had plenty to eat and a bed most of the time. You know, I could have been born in a place like Somalia."

"At least you would have had a country, an advantage that your delightful father didn't provide you."

"He wasn't delightful and you couldn't call him much of a father, but he wasn't a monster either," she said defensively. "Sometimes he waseven…" She searched for a word for Evan that was not derogatory. "Fun. He never actually-" "Be quiet and let me think." He stood there, a frown wrinkling his brow as he mentally went over possibilities. "There's just got to be some means to-" He snapped his fingers. "We'll get married."

She stared at him in shock. Marriage to Gabe. A multitude of unidentifiable emotions surged through her in the space of a heartbeat. Then she snapped her own fingers. 'We'll get married,' she mimicked. "That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. What do you think this is? The movie set of Pretty Woman} This is real life. Immigration has had too much experience with phony marriages to acquire citizenship." Her voice was suddenly shaking with intensity. "I want American citizenship more than anything in this world. If it were that simple, I'd have paid some expatriate American to marry me years ago."

His gaze narrowed absently on the painting on the wall across the room. "So we'll have to convince them it's not phony, or at least convince the public. If we can get enough popular support, any political pressure I can apply will be more effective."

She shook her head. "It would never work."

"I can make it work. I'm the man of the hour and you saved my life."

"And if I marry you, it will make me look like an adventuress taking advantage of a man who's been cooped up so long he's lost his judgment."

He smiled. "There's nothing wrong with my judgment."

She wanted to reach out and touch him, listen to him, let him convince her.

"Come on," he challenged. "Let me take a stab at it. What can it hurt? If I don't pull it off, you can still vanish into the mist."

"Mist disappears in the sunlight."

"Put yourself into my hands," he said softly. "I want to do this, Ronnie."

"Why?" she whispered. "I told you that you didn't owe me anything. All debts are paid."

"Ah, that mysterious debt. I can't believe something I can't remember would be worth taking the risks you ran." He gently touched her cheek. "And that isn't why I want to help you."

"Then why?"

His eyes were suddenly twinkling. "Purely selfish. It will give me a better chance of getting you into bed. We've already discussed how horny I am."

"Not that horny."

"You have no idea. And there's also the concept of righting wrongs and setting a terrible criminal on the road to redemption."

"Stop joking. This is serious."

His smile faded. "No one could be more serious than I am at the moment. You helped me out of that hellhole and I want to give you something you value as much as I do my freedom." He held out his hand. "Let me help you,

Ronnie."

He was so confident he could mend everything for her, but she knew his efforts would be completely useless. They'd never convince anyone it was a genuine marriage. No one knew better how cynical the world could be. It would be a great risk; she had a lot to lose. Her life was going along quite satisfactorily and those wistful dreams she had held since childhood weren't worth sending it crashing down about her. She didn't really need a country. She should be content with what she had.

But she wasn't content. She had never been content. She wanted what he offered her. What if there were risks? she thought recklessly. She had lived on the edge since the day she was born and this gamble was for a prize she had wanted all her life. If she didn't win, she wouldstill have had a few more weeks with this man who had intrigued and fascinated her for the last ten years.

She slowly reached out and put her hand in his.

"Set up a press conference for one o'clock tomorrow afternoon," Gabe said to Dan as he strode into his suite fifteen minutes later. "I want full coverage."

"Our exclusive?" Dan asked as he started for the phone on the desk.

"No, everyone. CBS, ABC, CNN…" Gabe picked up the extension on the end table by the couch, accessed the second line, and placed a call to Senator Koras in Washington. "Newspapers too. Everyone." He spoke to Koras's secretary and then, when he was put on hold, added to Dan, "And I want a report on Evan and Ronnie Dalton. Everything derogatory, everything good, and everything in between. I want it by the news conference tomorrow."

Dan gave a low whistle. "That's not going to be easy. Can we count on Ronnie for help?"

Gabe shook his head. "Do it on your own. She's not going to say anything that wouldincriminate her father even to help herself. She still has a certain amount of loyalty to the scumbag."

"My, how violent we are." Dan picked up the phone. "It's common to have a certain affection for one's parents."

"Not if they don't deserve it. Not if they use you and-" Gabe broke off and tried to control his temper. The thought of Evan Dalton and the life he had made Ronnie lead infuriated him. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't usually view people so judgmentally, but the idea of Dalton using a kid to- No, not just any kid. Ronnie. The crux of his anger was that Dalton had used Ronnie, who was honest and loyal and beneath that tough veneer more vulnerable than anyone he had ever known.

He had a sudden memory of her sitting by the fire, her expression earnest and a little wistful as she talked about going to see the Declaration of Independence. He couldn't imagine a life without roots or any stability. It was a wonder she had survived to become the unique woman he had met two days ago. Two days? Lord, it seemed a lifetime. He had run the entire gamut of emotions with Ronnie Dalton; lust, respect, amusement, exasperation, possessiveness, pity…

The senator came on the line and Gabe spoke quickly. "Yes, I'm fine, Harry. I just called to thank you for your efforts on my behalf. I understand from Dan you were at the president's throat from the time the negotiations to get me back started." He cut off Koras's modest protestation in midsentence. "Yes, you were. That's why I have another favor to ask of you now."

"I don't like this." Ronnie jammed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket as she walked beside Gabe down the corridor. "Why do I have to be here?"

"Because you're the heroine of the hour," Gabe said placidly. "Why are you so nervous? You've attended hundreds of these news conferences."

"But I was the one asking questions and taking pictures."

"I'll fend off the questions and you'll photograph very well."

"I don't want to be photographed," she said. "I'm surprised you didn't want to send me to Elizabeth Arden and get me up in a haute couture outfit."

"I don't think Sedikhan has an ElizabethArden's and you're fine as you are." His appraising gaze ran over her casual jeans and chambray shirt topped by her worn leather jacket. "Fresh angel's face, attitude a little tough, but that's okay. You couldn't have pulled off my rescue if you didn't have those characteristics. It just makes you appear more interesting."

"Thanks," she said wryly. She moistened her dry lips. "This is a terrible idea. It's not going to work, you know."

"If it doesn't, we'll try something else." He stopped outside the closed door of the conference room and paused. "Listen, Ronnie, I know this isn't going to be easy for you, but I'll be there with you all the way." His voice deepened. "I won't let anyone or anything hurt you again."

His gaze held hers with a forcefulness that was like a wall of strength. She felt again that sense of bonding. "Sometimes you can't help people from getting hurt," she said unsteadily. "It just… happens. I won't blame you if it does."

"I'd blame myself," he said quietly. "I'd blame myself so much I don't think I could stand it." His fingers touched her lips. "So I can't let it happen, can I?"

Her lips felt soft, exquisitely sensitive beneath his fingers. If she spoke, the words would bea caress, and she must not permit herself that intimacy.

His mouth suddenly curved with humor as his hand fell away from her. "But do me a favor?"

She would do anything for him at that moment, fight a dragon, blow up CNN's satellite. "What?" she whispered.

"Don't tell the entire world I slugged you."