Love in the first degree
by
Unknown


Prologue

Already the room smelled like blood.

Luke Cabrio felt the skin at the back of his neck prickle as he stared
down at the body on the floor at his feet.  Nick Addison looked pretty
dead, all right.  He also looked..  stunned, Luke decided.  As if he
hadn't expected the bullet that had caught him square in the throat and
driven him onto his back between two Queen Anne chairs.

No reason he should have expected it, Luke thought.  Seldom is a bully
attuned to when his victim has been pushed as far as possible before
lashing out in return.  As far as Luke was concerned, Nick Addison was
a bully of the very worst sort.

The man's blood had splattered across the chair's ivory brocade seat
cushions and made a wide, dark stain on the pale carpet.  It spread out
on either side of his head, reminding

Luke of the ink blots a shrink used.  Butterfly wings.  The inane
association came immediately to mind, and then, just as inanely, he
thought about how the hotel's housekeeping staff was going to have
their work cut out for them trying to clean up this mess.

Addison was a big man, at least six feet two and two hundred and twenty
pounds, and when he fell he'd knocked over a small, oval, cherry-wood
table, sending the lamp and clock on it flying.  Using the hand not
holding the gun, Luke managed to right the table and the lamp.  There
wasn t much he could do about the clock, however.  Its black plastic
casing hadn't survived the fall.  He replaced it on the table anyway
and watched for a moment to see if the time would change.  He craved
some sign of normality, evidence that outside this room life was going
on just as routinely as it had a few minutes ago.  The block numbers
remained eerily fixed on 9:17, however, and Luke finally looked away.

Chalk up another casualty for this night, he thought grimly, steeling
himself for what he knew he had to do.  Four years as the security
manager for the Delta Queen Hotel and Casino and until now he'd never
been the one to check on a corpse.  Ironic that his first should be a
corpse of his own making.

He went down on one knee and with his free hand carefully felt for a
pulse beneath Addison's left ear.  He couldn't seem to let go of the
damn gun.  Addison felt warm and slightly damp and very still.  Luke
leaned closer, moving his fingertips a quarter inch one way, then
another, hoping for he wasn't sure what.  A hint of life?  Or proof
that Addison was out of the way for good?  Somehow he managed to get
blood on his white shirt and the leg of his pants before convincing
himself that he was indeed dead.

Damn, damn, damn, Luke thought.  Maybe he ought to feel sorry Addison
was gone, but he didn't.  He was a lot of things, but a hypocrite
wasn't one of them.  He was very sorry about how it had come about, and
he cursed himself softly.

Damn, he thought again, staring at the gun in his hand, a beauty of a .
38 registered to him.  This wasn't good.

Should he try to get rid of the gun?  Change
his clothes?  Wipe the room for prints?  For a man who dealt with crime
, with the unsavory characters who committed them and with police on a
fairly regular basis, he suddenly had as much of a notion about what he
ought to do next as Mother Teresa would in this situation.

Oh, there's a stretch, Cabrio, he thought disgustedly.  This was hardly
the moment to compare himself to a woman as close to a saint as he
could imagine.

He still couldn't decide what to do, only that he needed time to think.
But he wasn't going to get any, he realized, as he heard a sharp rap on
the hotel room door.

"Atlantic City Police," called out a rough voice, just seconds before
the door was shoved open.

Luke recognized the young officer who was first through the door. Frank
Callahan.  And his partner, Jim something , a quiet guy with a mustache
like a black caterpillar stretched along his top lip. Naturally they
recognized Luke, as well.

Callahan glanced from him to the body on the floor and whistled through
his teeth.  "Looks like you've got yourself a live one, Luke," he
exclaimed, guffawing at his own joke.

Ordinarily Luke would respond with an agreeable smile, having come to
understand the gallows humor some police officers used to shield
themselves from the horror they dealt with on a daily basis.  Tonight,
however, he was barely conscious of the remark.

"Surprised to find you already here," Callahan continued , putting away
the gun he'd drawn before entering.

"Why's that?"  Luke asked, his throat dry and scratchy.  From fear, he
thought.  Even his damn palms were sweating , making the gun feel
slippery, When was the last time that had happened?

"You gettinga cold?"  Callahan asked, squinting at him.

"Must be," Luke countered.  He cleared his throat.  "Why are you
surprised to find me here?"

"The desk told us they couldn't raise you," he explained' Said you
weren't answering your beeper.  Since you were incommunicado, as they
say, and it's Brad's night off, we just came on up: '

His partner, Jim, gave a nod toward Luke's hand, hanging at his side.
"Find that here?"

"Find it here?"  Luke eclloed, feel inga half step behind the action.

"Yeah," Callahan retorted, "the gun you're holding, the one you've gone
and put your greasy prints all over.  Heck, Luke, you know better than
that: He shook his head disgustedly' Did the gunman drop it?"

Of course, Luke realized, as it all began coming together for him.
Callahan and his partner naturally assumeq that he was here for the
same reason they were.  Someone must have heard the shot and called the
front desk.  They'd tried beeping him, but of course he'd ignored the
calls.  Hell, he'd barely been aware of the persistent yapping of the
small pager hooked to his belt.

They assumed he was here in his capacity of security manager for the
hotel, to investigate the incident.  They didn't appear to have any
suspicion whatsoever that he might have played a part in what had gone
on here.  They'd even provided him with a perfqt explanation for why
his fingerprints were on the gun.  He'd made a mistake and touched
something at a crime soene.  Dumb, yes, but it wasn't the first time
someone had made a dumb mistake.

He could play along, he thought, a sudden blast of hope making his
heart pound frantically.  He could just let them go on assuming the
obvious.  He could walk out of here and leave this whole mess in the
hands of the police.  And they, his thoughts continued logically, would
promptly launch an all-out investigation into the murder.  Immediately
his hopes dimmed.

He had a great deal of respect for the Atlantic City Police and he knew
they were relentless on unsolved cases.

"They would scour this room for fingerprints and other evidence , for
hair and fibers, and they would piece together a picture of everyone
who had set foot in the room recently, would track their movements.
They would open the door on Addison's life and his past.  They would
discover his reason for being here, would make lists of his known
enemies, and all too soon they would finger his killer.

Just the thought of it made him go cold inside.  He thought about the
waiting and worrying, the constant looking over his shoulder, wondering
if this was the day they'd figure out the truth and make an arrest. No,
he couldn't stand for that to happen.

There was only one thing he could do to take control over this out of
their hands.

"Do you want to give us a statement now?"  Callahan was asking him, his
tone offhand, "or wait for the homicide guys to get here "

"Neither," Luke replied, no longer undecided about what he was going to
do.  "I want a lawyer."

Chapter 1

Claire stood outside the Atlantic City county jail and wondered if she
was losing her mind.  She had to be, she decided.  There wasn't any
other plausible explanation for boing there.

Last Friday she had won the biggest case of her entire career and what
had she done to celebrate?  She had walked away from her job with one
of the most prestigious law firms in Rhode Island and driven all the
way to Atlantic City to help a man she hadn't seen in twelve years.  A
man who hadn't asked for her help, who in all likelihood didn't even
remember her name, and who-for all she really knew-was a cold-blooded
murderer.

No, she amended quickly, that last wasn't true.  While it was very
possible that Luke Cabrio might not remember her name, it was not
possible that he had murdered Nick Addison , the man he was accused of
shooting.  She was so utterly convinced of his innooenoe that her most
pressing concern about meeting him face-to-face was not one of safety,
but of recognition.  She worried that even after she'd told him her
name, Luke would stare at her blankly, with no idea who she was and
absolutely no recollection of the old memories that she had never quite
forgotten.

To avoid the possibility of such an ego-bruising moment Claire had
taken the precaution of contacting the state public-defenders office
and asking the attorney appointed to represent Luke to relay a message
to him.  In it, she'd expressed concern for his predicament, mentioned
that they had attended high school together and offered to meet with
him to see if she could be of any help.  The return message had been as
blunt and as heedless of polite convention as Luke himself.  It had
been difficult to tell if the public defender was more amused or
embarrassed at having to relay Luke's response to her over the
telephone.

"Mr.  Cabrio asked me to tell you-and I quote," he added, " " Thanks,
but mind your own business.  " "

Of course, Claire thought as she tightened her grip on the handle of
her leather briefcase and started for the prison entranoe, thaYs
exactly what she ought to do.  Mind her own business.  Tell herself
she'd tried to help and Luke had refused her offer.  Then she should
get in her car and drive back to her comfortable life, respectable
friends and nioe safe job.  She ought to turn and run.

Unfortunately, she couldn't.  Her parents had raised her to be
cautious, true, but she had also been taught to pay her debts in full.
Right now the situation with Luke had her caught between those two good
bits of advice.  She owed Luke Cabrio big-time, and she wasn't going
home until she'd settled the score.

While she wasn't officially representing Luke, the public defender,
Gerald Rancourt, had agreed to arrange with the prison officials for
her to meet with him.  Claire showed her identification to the
uniformed guard at the gate, who checked the approved visitors' list
for her name and then diretted her inside and through a series of
checkpoints.

Another guard led her to a small room set aside for prisoners to confer
privately with their attorneys.

It had been years since Claire's stomach had done somersaults at the
loud metallic clang of a prison gate swinging shut behind her.  Back
then, fresh out of law school, she'd been uneasy at the thought of
visiting jailed clients, at the prospect of being locked in a cell
block with hundreds of prison en At the moment, however, it was the
thought of being locked in a tiny room with one specific prisoner that
was making her palms sweat.  Worse, Claire knew she'd be sweating even
if her meeting with Luke was to take place in Times Square or a field
of daisies.  It wasn't the surroundings that had her on edge, it was
the man.

The meeting room was predictably small and Spartan, with only a small
table and two folding chairs positioned beneath a light fixture mounted
flush with the ceiling.  Fluorescent , she noted glumly, wondering if
there was a more unflattering backdrop than the combination of
fluoresoent light and institution green walls.  Not that it mattered,
she took pains to remind herself, even as she smoothed the white silk
shell she was wearing under her collarless gray suit and wished she'd
thought to choose something with a little more color.

Though it was July, her schedule didn't allow for much time in the sun
and her fair skin looked more pale than ever in this light.

She could have at least worn her new linen suit, she thought belatedly.
Its turquoise hue would have played up the blond streaks in her light
brown hair and made her eyes look even bluer.  Not that it mattered,
she told herself again.  After all, she was here to help Luke, not
impress him.

She barely had time to sit and open her briefcase before Luke was led
in by a guard, who did a quick inspection of the room before stepping
out again.

"You've got thirty minutes," he informed them as he pulled the door
shut.

Claire watched, not even breathing, as Luke leaned back against the
locked door.  At six-one, he was tall enough that his head rested
against the small window near the top of the door.  He was wearing the
standard prison-issue blue jeans and chambray shirt with white,
high-top Nikes.  Several days worth of whisk en added a decidedly
menacing touch to his lean face.  Whiskers and prison garb aside,
however, he was still, hands down, the most arrogantly handsome man
Claire had ever seen.

Gone was the dark brown, shoulder-length mane she remembered from high
school, and the passing years had left faint creases on his faoe that
hadn't been there back when he'd been the undisputed bad boy of their
small hometown of Oaklawn, Rhode Island.  Under the best of
circumstances , thirly-two looked differenl from twenty, and Claire had
good reason to suspect that the circumstances of Luke's life had been
less than the best.  The newspaper photo taken at the time of his
a=rest had prepared her for the small, in-evitable changes in his
appearance, but nothing could have prepared her for the way he was
looking at her.

His gray eyes were narrow, his gaze coolly assessing.  He let it slide
from her face, down over her pearl gray designer suit and matching
high-heel pumps, and back again.  He didn't look pleased.

But, Claire noted in an attempt to reassure herself, at least he wasn't
staring at her blankly.

"Hello, Luke," she said, getting to her feet and extending her right
hand.  "I'm-" " " I know who you are, " he said, ignoring her hand and
purposefully folding his arms across his chest.  " The question is,
what the hell are you doing here?  "

His deep voice was rough with annoyanoe, but Claire knew for a fact how
that same voice could be silky smooth when he was trying to comfort or
reassure.

"I thought my initial message made all that clear," she replied,
dropping her arm back to her side and trying to look unconcerned by his
less-than-friendly greeting.

"And I thought my return message made my position clear: " "Well, lucky
for you I'm not very easily discouraged."

A small smirk curved his lips.  "Or very bright, evidently Whatever
misguided impulse brought you here, you're wasting your time.  I'm a
lost cause,

If there had been even a speck of uncertainty in Claire's mind that she
was doing the right thing, that settled it.

"Don't say that," she admonished.

"Why not?  Truth hurt?"

"It just might, if you believe iYs the truth.  Haven't you ever heard
of the power of positive thinking?"

He laughed harshly.  " " You really believe that what I think will have
any effect on the verdict?  "

"Yes, I do."

His stare was incredulous.  "Where did you go to law school, lady7 The
University of Oz?  " " " No.  Harvard: '

He whistled and came away from the door.  " " Just goes to show,
nothing's what iYs cracked up to be..  not even the venerable Ivy
League.  "

Claire smoothed her skirt and sat, her expression unruffled , her
stomach doing flip-flops.  "Perhaps not.  Now, if you're through
critiquing my credentials, maybe we can get to work "

"We have no work to do."

"On the contrary, unless you want to spend the rest of your life locked
in a room a whok lot less luxurious than the one you're sitting in
right now, I'd say we have a great deal of work ahead of us, and no
time to waste on posturing: '

The reference to being lockerl in a cell brought an encouraging shadow
of concern to his face, but he quickly shrugged it off and narrowed his
gaze defensively.

"q that what you think I'm doing?"  he demanded.  "posturing?"

"To tell you the truth, Luke," Claire replied, leaqg back in her chair
and lacing her fingers together as she contemplated him with a
carelessness she was far from feeling, "I don't know what the hell
you're doing.  Thanks to Gerald Rancourt, though, I do know a little
more about your situation than I did when I first contacted you after
reading about your arrest in the paper back home."

"Good news travels fast," he commented.

"For instance," Claire continued, "I know that several witnesses
overheard you threaten the victim only hours before the shooting
occurred, I know the police found you at the scene.  I know the murder
weapon was a .38-cah'her pistol registered to you and that yours were
the only prints on it.  Any way you look at it, the DA has a good shot
at motive , means and opportuniw "

"Three strikes, I'm out," he said softly.

"Three strikes?  You're giving yourself entirely too much credit.  The
way I see it, you haven't even swung the bat.  Rancourt told me that
during your meeting with him you neither denied nor confessed to
killing q. Addison: '

"What else did he tell you?"

"That you're a real pain in the ass: '

He ginned.  "Did he tell you that before or after you came all the way
down here to see me?"

"Before."

That prompted a glint of inaqeased interest in his smoke gray eyes.
"And you came, anyway," he said thoughtfully.  "I wonder why."

"Because I'm a lawyer," she replied, meeting his gaze levelly.  Years
of courtroom practioe prevented her tone from qealingany of the
emotional upheaval inside.  "A good one.  And, like it or not, you need
a good lawyer."

"I've got a lawyer," he said.

"I don't know anything about Gerald Rancourt, other than that, like
every other public defender, he has too many cases and too little time.
He can't defend you properly against these charges, Luke."

"Then he's perfect for the job.  There won't be any defense

"Are you saying you shot and killed Nick Addison?"

Claire held her breath as he stared at her in silence, the room
suddenly feeling even smaller and much too warm.

"I was found alone with the body," he said at last.  "It was my gun
that killed him and my prints were all over it.  That about says it
all, doesn't it?"

"No," she exclaimed, exasperated, "that doesn't tell me nearly enough.
There are a dozen ways to explain away that kind of evidence and at
least a dozen scenarios to establish a justifiable shooting... and a
hundred ways a smart prosecutor will be able to arrange the facts to
make an innocent man appear guilty as hell unless that man is willing
to fight "

"Well, there you go," he said calmly.  "I'm not willing: '

"What is wrong with you?"  she demanded, coming out of her chair and
planting her palms flat on the table as she leaned forward, glaring at
him.  "Do you think this is some kind of game?  You against the system,
just like back in high school?  Because if you do, you're wrong, and
you're about to get worked over by a legal system that isn't even going
to try to coax you out of your strong, sullen macho routine the way
some school guidance counselor might have."

"I can handle it," he said, his tone remaining soft.  The only hint
that she'd gotten through to him came in the dofensive folding of his
arms across his chest.

"You think so?"  she pressed.  "Well, I don't.  I checked your record,
Luke.  There isn't one.  You've never even done easy time before.  What
you've seen so far-a nice cushy holding cell at the county jail-is
nothing compared to what's ahead if you're found guilty.  You haven't
even been formally charged, much less convicted and locked up.  Take my
word for it, prison is filled with guys a lot bigger and tougher than
you, Cabrio."

"You'd know all about that, huh?"

Claire met his steely gaze head-on.  "Yes."

For a few seconds there was silence in the small room.  Then, moving
very slowly, Luke circled the table to stand beside her, his voice
becominga blend of silk and ice.

"So tell me about it, Ms.  Mackenzie," he urged.  "Tell me about the
last man you defended on a murder-one charge.  Was he a lot bigger and
tougher than me?"

Claire made a dismissive sound.  With him so close it was hard to
imagine any man being bigger or more powerful.  He was no longer the
lean, wiry boy she remembered.  He was no longer a boy at all.  Claire
had an impression of leashed strength and virility that seemed to burn
all the air from the tiny room.  Her heart pounded in her chest and she
suddenly felt a rush of the one thing she told herself she could never
possibly feel around Luke: fear Too late it occurred to her that even
if she'd been right about him twelve years ago, a man could change a
lot in that much time.

"Tell me," he repeated, his soft tone more insistent than a shout.

"Actually," she said, "I've never tried a murder-one case before... not
that there's any guarantee that's what the charge against you will
ultimately remain.  With plea bargaining "

"Murder two," he interrupted.  "Tell me about the last
second-degree-murder case you handled."

She shook her head, annoyed by the direct hit to her most vulnerable
point.

He nodded, his wide mouth forming into a knowing smile as he once again
ran his gaze over her.  "That's about what I figured.  All right, then,
tell me about the last case you handled, period.  You have handled a
case since graduating from Harvard, haven't you?"

"Several," Claire retorted, matching his sarcasm.  "As a matter of
fact, I just wrapped up a major case in which I defended a prominent
bank president.  Successfully, I might add."

Luke whistled through his teeth.  "Big time.  And just what was the
prez charged with?"

Claire shrugged.  " " Fraud..  and unfair banking practices ," she
added over his smug chuckle.  " Go ahead and smirk.  Those are serious
charges and it was a very difficult case to argue, much less win.  "

Difficult for many reasons she had no intention of revealing to him,
she thought stoically.

"I'll bet," he said.  "Just the thought of a fraud charge makes me
shiver in my boots."  He glanced down.  "Make that sneakers.  I'm
shivering just the same.  You must be one tough cookie."

"

" Very funny, but this isn't getting us anywhere.  "

"Oh, on the contrary," he said in an exaggerated way that left no doubt
he was mimicking her, "I feel we're making real progress in resolving
this whole question of me needing help from you.  Tell me, aside from
unfair banking practices, what other sort of work have you done in the
last, oh say, six months?"

"Business interruption, embezzlement, corporate mergers "

"Manslaughter?"  he interjected, his expression one of mock
hopefulness.

"Yes, actually," she countered, knowing she sounded ridiculously
triumphant.  "I defended a client on a manslaughter charge sometime
last year " " " Tell me about it: " " My client left a bar after having
a few drinks at a going away party for a friend, and while driving off,
she hit a pedestrian who"

He held up his hand to silence her.  "Enough "

Before Claire could move, his fingers closed like handcuffs around her
wrists.  Holding her still, he moved closer until there wasn't enough
space between them for her to draw a deep breath without coming into
contact with his broad chest.  His gaze grew as dark as a sky holding
back thunder.

"What are you really doing here?"  he demanded.

Chapter 2

Claire swallowed hard and lifted her head to meet Luke's hostile gaze
directly.  "Let me go or I'll scream for the guard: '

"The silence swelled as he stared at her more than long enough to
establish the fact that she wasn't going to scream and risk getting him
into more trouble than he was already in.  " " I want to know why
you're here, " he said again.

"I've already told you.  I read about what had happened in the paper
and thought maybe I could help."

" " Bull: " " Think whatever you please, " she retorted, trying and
failing to free herself.

"What would you think?  In the middle of all the crap that's happening
to me, some broad I don't even know shows up insisting that we're old
school chums and she's here to help me."

"I never said we were friends," she corrected, "simply that we went to
the same high school: '

"I don't remember you," he told her bluntly.  "Did we ever talk?  "

"Yes," Claire replied, swallowing the silly lump that a rush of hurt
feelings brought to her throat.  "As a matter of fact, I tutored you in
French for a few weeks.  You were a senior and I was a sophomore.  Verb
phrases: '

"That's it?"  he pressed, watching her intently.  "French lessons?"

Claire nodded, fighting a backwash of heated memories he had obviously
forgotten.  She wasn't about to remind him.  "That's it."

"Well, lady, I don't remember much about high school, I don't remember
French verbs, and I sure as hell don't remember you: " "Look, if"

"Is it money?"  he interrupted.  "Is that it?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Maybe you figure I'm desperate enough to pay whatever you ask.  Or
maybe you just need the work.  Lawyers are a dime a dozen and it sure
doesn't sound like you're giving old F. I.ee Bailey a run for his
money.  Are you hoping that the publicity surround inga murder case
will give your career a shot in the arm?"

Claire shook her head in disgust.  "I assure you, my career is quite
successful.  I don't need the work... or the money."

"Oh yeah?"  he countered, clearly disbelieving.  "How much do you
expect me to pay for all this help you're offer " My fee is negotiable
in this case.  This isn't about money.  "

"And it isn't about school spirit, either," he snapped.  "I'd venture
to say that I'm not the only graduate of old

Oaklawn High to get himself into a j am in the past decade.  How many
others have you gone out of your way to help?  "

"None," Claire admitted.

"So why me?"

Claire shrugged, knowing there was no way she could tell him the truth.
Even she didn't fully understand the mixture of frustration, leftover
adolescent longing and adult fantasy that lurked beneath her noble and
legitimate reasons for being here.  And even if she had understood, his
closeness was making it hard to think, much less speak logically.

"Timing," she said simply.

"What the hell does that mean?"  he asked.

Her pulse jumped where his thumbs pressed more deeply into her wrists.
"" It means that there were some things going on back home that made me
stop and take a look at my life and realize that I wasn't completely
happy with the direction it was taking.  I needed a break and this
seemed like a good reason to take one.  "

"What sort of things?"

"Nothing specific," she said, telling herself it wasn't so much a lie
as it was none of his business.  "It's just that the cases I've handled
recently aren't the sort of work I anticipated doing when I dreamed of
becominga lawyer.  I went to law school to help people, to make a
differenre in their lives."

"A real avengiag angel," he commented with a scowl.

"Maybe," Claire snapped.  "All I know is I'm tired of practicing law
that amounts to little more than a high-stakes game of Monopoly "

"So you thought you'd try your hand at something a little more down and
dirty, is that it?  "

She managed to rake him with a coolly assessing glance.  "Yes, I can
see how that would be one way of putting it: " "And you just happened
to see the news about me in the " "Exactly.  I recognized your
picture."

"And decided I'd be the perfect opportunity to get in a little practice
on the grittier side of law and order."

"Look, if you're so worried about the quality of the defense

I can provide, why don't we agree that I'll take your case pro bono.
That way you'll be sure to get what you're paying for "

"No, thanks," he said, releasing her wrists as quickly as he'd captured
them.  "I appreciate the offer, but I still don't want your help."

"You don't want anyone's help, it seems to me."

"I guess you're brighter than I first thought," he retorted , turning
toward the door.

"So you plan to just walk into that courtroom and plead guilty-is that
it?"  Claire called after him.

He turned, his teasing expression gone, and met her exasperated look
with one of grim determination.  "ThaYs it "

"Even though you're not guilty."

"Who says I'm not?"  he demanded, a dangerous glitter in his eyes.

Claire took a deep breath.  She'd come this far.  She qrtainly wasn't
going to back down now, especially since, for reasons she couldn't
explain, much less present in a court of law, she was more convinced
than ever that she was right about Luke being innocent.

"I do," she said.  "I know you didn't do it."

"How do you know?"  he pressed, clearly impatient.  "You don't know
anything about me."

Oh, but I do, Claire longed to say.  I know that underneath that tough,
cynical pose you show the world is the heart of a man whose instinct is
to help, not hurt, a man willing to make someone else's trouble his own
if need be.

Instead she shrugged and said, "Call it gut instinct: '

Luke laughed out loud.  "Very impressive, Counselor, but take my advice
and stick with your Monopoly practice."

" " Fine, " Claire retorted as he turned his back and once more moved
toward the door.  " You go right ahead and handle this your way "

"Thanks.  I intend to."

"So do I: '

He slowly turned back to her, his jaw made slightly crooked by the way
he was gritting his teeth.  "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I know in my heart you didn't kill Nick Addison.  That
means that whoever did kill him is still out there somewhere and I
intend to find him "

His eyes widened, then narrowed as one angry stride carried him back to
her.  This time Claire was too quick for him to snare her wrists, so he
took hold of her by the shoulders, instead.  She half expected to be
shaken hard, and was fully prepared to scream and let him deal with the
repercussions.  Since he seemed so determined to self-destruct, why
should she stand in his way?

But he only held her tightly enough to draw her toward him and glare
down at her.

"Have you lost your mind?"  he inquired through still gritted teeth.

"No.  Actually, I feel quite clear about what I'm doing.  More
clearheaded than I have for a long time."

It was true, she realized as he stared at her in silence, as if trying
to make sense of what she was saying.  " " Go home, Claire, " he said
finally.  " "Atlantic City can be a dangerous place, full of dangerous
people."

" " I know, " she replied, her confidence and determination growing by
the second.  " I fully expect the man I'm looking for to be dangerous.
After all, he killed Nick Addison in cold blood "

Luke winced impatiently.  "You don't know that-you don't know anything.
Anyway, Addison's killer is the least of your worries, lady.  Besides
not knowing me, you also don't know this city.  You're bound to go
wandering into plaoes you don't belong, sticking your nose into things
that don't conoern you, things that could get you into trouble .  or
worse."  He drew her minutely closer, his gaze boring into her.  "Or do
you make it a habit to go looking for trouble in all the wrong places,
Ms.  Mackenzie?"

So maybe he did remember, after all.  Claire's breath caught, her pulse
racing frantically at the memory of one wrong place she had wandered
into, of Luke and her-her blouse ripped open, his eyes hot and
hungry-in the midnight -dark parking lot of the Phantom Bar.

"I have no intention of looking for trouble," she said, her tone
remarkably calm, considering.  "Simply the truth: '

"The truth is that you're out of your league," he declared, his hold
tightening.  "Besides, maybe I don't want you messing around in my
life, ask inga bunch of questions about things that are none of your
business, dragging up stuff that I don't want to have to deal with: '

"Then help me," she urged.  "Tell me the truth about that night, point
me in the right direction to look for answers."

"Home-that's the only right direction for you "

She shook her head.

Luke swore softly.  " " You're determined to stick your nose into this
no matter what, aren't you?  "

Claire nodded and he swore again.

"Why won't you let me help you?"  she asked quietly.

"Because I want this over and done with," he snapped.  "What happened
happened.  I've accepted that, accepted the fact that the evidence is
stacked against me, and I'm ready to pay the price for it.  That's all
I want, to get started paying , so I can put it behind me."

"It takes a long time to put a murder-one conviction behind you: '

He gave her another impatient grimace.  " " You said yourself the
charge won't stay murder one.  I fully expect a plea bargain and,
eventually, time off for good behavior.  Like I said before, I can
handle whatever comes in between.  "

She watched the muscles in his throat constrict as he swallowed hard.

"I just want to get on with it," he said again, the subtle note of
desperation in his tone tearing at something inside Claire.

"Are you afraid, Luke?  Is that it?"

"What?"  he retorted, eyes squinted in disbelief.  " " I don't mean
afraid of being here or afraid of the other prisoners, " she explained
hastily, not wanting to put him further on the defensive by seeming to
attack his masculinity'I mean afraid to hope for a better outcome to
all this, afraid to fight the charges and lose, because you simply
can't bear to be let down?"

He peered at her curiously.  "Yeah," he said qnally.  "That's it
exactly.  I can't bear to be let down: '

Claire reached out to him without thinking, her heart twisting with
commiseration, and because of the way he was holding her, her hands
ended up pressed against his chest.  Even that light contact confirmed
that the strength she sensed in him wasn't an illusion.  Beneath the
cotton shirt his body was hard with muscle.

"I understand," she said softly.  "Sometimes it's difficult to keep
trying when it seems as if the deck is always stacked against you.  I
know things weren't easy for you growing up, and I have a hunch that
maybe everything hasn't turned out the way you hoped it would.  A
lifetime of disappointment can take a toll on a person."

"You said it," Luke concurred, nodding, his expression solemn.  "A
lifetime of disappointment."

"Sometimes it must seem as if it takes more courage than you possess to
try one more time, as if the best thing to do is simply go along with
whatever you're dealt."

"Exactly.  You're uncanny, you know that?  That's exactly how I feel.
So why don't you-"

"But you don't have to worry," she told him.

He had seemed on the verge of a relieved smile, but it quickly shifted
to a look of suspicion.  "I don't?"

Claire shook her head, her own smile brilliantly reassuring' No because
you're not going to be let down or disappointed this time.  I'm going
to see to it: '

"For God's sake, Claire..  : He threw his hands in the air and shook
his head in exasperation.  " "Itqvo weeks," she said to him.  "Just
give me two weeks to try and turn this around for you.  Let me arrange
bail and"

"No," he interjected, shaking his head firmly.  "No bail.  Every day I
sit in here I'm one day closer to getting out: '

"But you could be out now.  Please, listen to me," Claire pleaded. "Let
me arrange for bail and give me two weeks to see what I can do."

"What do you hope to accomplish in two weeks?"  he countered, still
frowning, but not quite as fiercely.

"A miracle," she retorted.  "But even avenging angels sometimes need a
little help in that department.  ThaYs why I want you someplace where I
don't have to drive miles and go through a half-dozen checkpoints every
time I need to ask you a question."

"What makes you think I'm willing to help?"

"You have to," she declared, deciding to use what she knew about Luke
to her own advantage, "because I'm going to go ahead with or without
you.  You can't very well make sure I don't go getting into trouble in
the wrong kind of places while you're sitting in here and I'm out
there, talking to people, asking questions, poking my nose where it
doesn't belong."

"Damn you: '

"Besides," she continued, energized by the very act of seizing the
offensive, "you must have some personal matters you need to clear up
before being sentenced."

"I've arranged for a friend to handle all that: '

"Well, with two weeks of freedom you can handle it all personally, a
much safer approach, and at the same time you can keep me out of
trouble."

He frowned, rubbing the dark stubble on his jaw as he thought.  "Two
weeks?"  he asked finally.

She nodded.

"It doesn't mean I've changed my mind about anything"

"

" Understood.  "

"And I'm going qo want to know every move you make, every piece of
information you uncover "

"Of course.  Full cooperation between us.  How does that sound?  "

"Like an offer I can't refuse," he muttered.  " " You mean it?  " " "As
long as you meant what you said... two weeks and then you're out of
here.  No matter what "

"No matter what," Claire readily agreed, refusing to contemplate the
possibility of anything short of total victory' You won't be sorry,
Luke.  I came here to save you and I intend to..  from yourself, if
necessary: '

She snapped shut her briefcase and banged on the door to signal the
guard outside that they were through.  Another time, she might have
found Luke's disgruntled scowl unsettling At the moment, however, she
was too exhilarated by the challenge ahead to be bothered by the fact
that he didn't appear to be nearly as thrilled to be rescued by her as
she had once been to be rescued by him.

Chapter3

The sun hurt his eyes.  And he wasn't even outside, yet.  The cramped
waiting area near the prison's intake desk wasn't particularly bright
or cheerful, but compared to the windowless cell Luke had called home
for nearly a week, it was a football stadium.  About twenty minutes ago
a guard had come for him, leading him to this hallway and a scarred
wooden bench that was close to, but not quite, freedom, and had told
him to wait.

Luke wasn't sure exactly what he was waiting for, but quick learner
that he was, he'd already assimilated the fact that prison guards don't
like to be questioned by inmates.  His guess was that, since just that
morning Claire had made good on her promise to arrange a bail hearing
and bail had been granted, he was waiting here for her to finish with
the paperwork and come for him.  As much as he'd initially resisted the
idea of being released on bail, now that freedom was close enough to
smell, he was excited.

His excitement was at direct odds with his common sense.  He still
believed that agreeing to let Claire arrange for his release, even
temporarily, had been a major mistake.  He simply hadn't had any
choice.  He couldn't permit her to go running around the city on her
own, vigilantqstyle.  The reason he'd gone with a court-appointed
attorney in the first place was precisely to avoid such zealous
interferenoe.  Then Claire had shown up, a hazy figment from his past,
full of fiery justice and an absurd conviction that he was innocent
Yep, a real vigilante, he reflected cynically.  Pollyanna meets Charles
Bronson.

Not that her competence, or lack of it, mattered.  Ask enough questions
and you're bound to stumble upon a few answers.  He couldn't allow that
to happen.  He also didn't much like the thought of her wandering
around Atlantic City alone, maybe getting herself hurt on his behalf,
and so he'd agreed to bail and to this crazy two-week quest that Claire
had no way of knowing was already doomed to failure

Fighting his own sudden impatience to be free, he shifted restlessly on
the bench and glanoed through the glass doon a short distance away.
Beyond waited a world of gnen grass and car horns blaring and a million
other everyday pleasures and annoyances that he had once taken for
granted.  Luke shook his head, struck by how violently he craved the
outdoors and fresh air after only a few days inside this hellhole He
didn't want to think about what it would feel like to be locked away
for a few years.  Or longer.

He didn't want to think about it, but of course he did.  The fact was
he'd thought of almost nothing else for days now.  He didn't have any
choice.  He released a grim chuckle, draw inga scowl from the guard
seated at a desk a few feet away.  He didn't have any choice.  that one
sentence seemeq to rule his life all of a sudden.  He didn't have any
choice.  Nick Addison had seen to that.  The man had deserved to die,
and he'd died.

Recalling that night in Addison's hotel room, Luke could onoe again
feel the weight of the gun in his hand and see the gaping hole in
Addison's neck leaking blood onto the pale green carpet.  He wished
with all his heart that things had worked out differently, but they
hadn't.  Over the years, gambling had taught Luke all about winning and
losing and paying up with grace and dignity.  He was drawing heavily on
those lessons now.  Addison was dead and he had to pay the price for
it.  He really didn't have any choice about that, either, no matter
what Ms.  Claire Mackenzie wanted to believe

The thought of Claire suddenly brought him the same tangled rush of
emotion it had yesterday, when he'd walked into that interview room and
seen her for the first time in twelve years.  Now, as then, one
overriding feeling pushed to the surface and stayed there-the gut-level
awareness that she'd grown up to be one hell of a beautiful woman.
Uptight , but beautiful.  And sexy in the unexpected and inadvertent
way only an uptight woman could be.

Yep, beautiful, uptight and segy as hell.  All in all, Luke mused, she
was ezactly as he remembered her.  The only difference was that twelve
years ago her beauty had been unformed, hidden behind bulky clothes and
heavy glasses.  Back then, a man had to really look closely to
appreciate Claire's potential.  Luke had looked closely.

He remembered pretending to follow along in his notobook as he sat
across from her in the school library, blown away by the sight of her
soft-looking mouth foqing French verbs.  Now, when he was plenty old
enough to know better , he was just as mesmerized by the way it
dispensed legal jargon.  The end result was the same.  As ridiculous as
it was, he had the same hard-core yen for Claire Mackenzie that he'd
had when he was a kid.  And now, like then, he couldn't do a damn thing
about it.

Makinga play for her back then would have been extremely foolish,
considering the fact that her old man was a lawyer and a local big
shot, and Luke had come as far from the wrong side of the tracks as you
could get in the little town of Oaklawn, Rhode Island.  But if it had
been merely foolish back then, doinganythingabout it now would be
downright dangerous.

Right now, he couldn't afford the luxury of seducing Claire Mackenzie.
For the nest two weeks, he couldn't afford to let down his guard around
her for a minute.  Even if she was telling the truth about her motives
for coming here being strictly altruistic, he still couldn't trust her.
In fact, he thought, smiling at the irony of it, if she really was
there to see that justice was done, he could trust her even less.

Not that he bought her avenging-angel routine.  In his ezperience ,
nobody was that noble, and nobody went out of their way to do something
for nothing.  There had to be an ulterior motive for the
innocent-looking Claire to help him and he intended to find out what it
was.  At the very least, he suspected that the need to run away from
something-or someone-back home had played more of a role in this than
she was ready to admit.  He'd find out about that, too, he decided,
stretching his legs in front of him.  After all, they had two weeks'
worth of time to kill.

Self-denial didn't come easily to him, however, and dociding that
Claire was off-limits didn't make it any easier not to think about her.
With the sunlight from the opposite window warming his faoe, Luke
closed his eyes and let himself think about her in detail, finding it a
thrilling respite from thoughts of spending the next several thousand
days in a world of gray walls, narrow cots and no sunshine.

It was the sound of Claire's voice, with its distinctive, husky thread,
that had a way of planting the subliminal suggestion in a man's
head-that he was being cajoled even when he knew she meant strictly
business-which put an end to his daydream.

He got to his feet and stepped forward eagerly, eyeing ha through the
bars that separated them, barely aware that she was accompanied by his
lawyer of record, Gerald Rancourt Rancourt, a slick GQ type who
obviously had his sights set on bigger things than the public
defender's ofqce , had actually handled the morning's bail hearing.
Luke made a mental note to thank him.

"Sit down," the guard at the desk snapped at Luke almost before he was
on his feet.

"I,mjqt-"

"I said sit: The guard's eyes were steely, his hand moving quickly to
hover near the collapsible metal baton hanging from his leather belt.

In just a few days, Luke had learned to curb a lifelong defiant streak
and not challenge that steely look and hovering hand.  But he hadn't
come close to learning not to rosent it.  At that instant, he felt as
if he was burning up inside, and the fact that Claire was looking on
only made it more humiliating.

"IYs all right," she said quickly, before he was forced to either back
down or make a fool of himself.  "I have Mr.  Cabrio's bail forms here,
all signed: She handed the papers to the guard through the narrow
opening in the bars intended for exactly that purpose.  " Please
release him: '

The guard egamined the forms and nodded.  "Yes ma'am: '

His smile and manner toward Claire were the antithesis of what Luke had
been receiving around here.  Having seen some of the garbage the
inmates dished out, he could understand the attitude of the guards, but
their treatment still grated like sand on sunburned skin.  One more
reminder of what he'd gotten himself into, and that there was no easy
way out.

"You can pick up your things over there," he said to luke, nodding at
the counter on the other side of the locked door as he stood and
flipped through his keys until he found the one he wanted.  Already the
undercurrent of contempt was back in his voice.

Get used to it, Luke warned himself.  He'd meant it when he told Claire
he could handle doing time, but he also believed she was right when she
predicted it was going to get worse before it got better.

The guard unlocked the door, handing Luke his release forms and
slamming it shut again behind him.

He was free.  The realization brought with it a rush of exhilaration
and then, right behind it, grim second thoughts.  This felt too good.
So good that it was going to make it harder than ever to return to a j
all cell when his bargain with Claire was finished, harder to do what
he knew he had to do.

"If you're all set here, I'm going to take off," Rancourt said,
extending his hand to Luke.  "Stay out of trouble," q warned in a tone
that Luke wasn't sure was entirely joking Clearly, he didn't share
Claire's conviction that Luke was an innocent man.  There was no reason
he should.

"I'll try," Luke uttered dryly as they shook hands.  "And thanks: '

"No problemo.  Ms.  Mackenzie is going to do some preliminary work on
your case," the other attorney continued , "which is a huge help, since
I'm stretched to the limit, as usual.  Just keep me informed of
anything major, all

"We will," Claire replied.

Over my dead body, Luke thought, struck by how right Claire and
Rancourt looked standing side by side, like models from some glossy
magazine.

Rancourt turned to go.  "Ciao.  I'll be in touch: '

Luke glanced at Claire, not even trying to control his sneer.  "What do
you know?  All that charm and bilingual, too."

Her brows arched in surprise.  "Don't you like Gerald?"

"Do you?"  he countered, interested.

"He sesms all right.  A little offhand in his approach to your case to
suit me, but you can hardly fault him for that when he's taking his cue
from you "

"So you do like him: '

"I hardly know him.  What have you got against him?"

Nothing, Luke thought.  Until he'd stared through those bars a few
minutes ago and seen Rancourt chatting easily with Claire, he'd had
nothing against the man.  He had simply considered Rancourt the means
to an end of his own choosing.

"Nothing.  I don't have anything against him," he told her, in spite of
the fact that he was no longer so suqc that was true.  "LeYs just get
out of here."

Claire stood beside him as he handed his pa pen across the counqer to
another guard, who looked them over and then turned and entered the
fifteen-foot wire cage behind him.  The cage was lined with shelves. On
the shelves were well worn plastic bins, each marked with a prisoner's
number and containing the penonal items he'd surrendered upon arrest.

Luke looked on as the guard took his time scanning the rows, searching
for the plastic bin with the number corresponding to the one he'd been
assigned at intake.  He had to clench his teeth to keep from doing what
he wanted most to do-turn his head and look at Claire.  The desire to
stare at her, to gaze at her face with its fragqe, perfect features,
the graceful line of her throat, her long legs stretching below the
short skirt of her blue suit, was nearly overwhelming.  It shouldn't
be, he thought irritably.  There was no reason he should feel this way.
Sure, he was as appreciative of women as the neat guy, but after all,
six days was still only six days.  It wasn't as if he hadn't seen a
female or a pair of seqcy legs in months or years and was suffering
from withdrawal In fact, what really disturbed him was the fear that be
wasn't suffering from withdrawal, at all, but rather intozication ,
because it wasn't just any beautiful woman he was longing to look at,
but Claire alone.

Thank God the deal they'd struck was for only two weeks.  If he
expected to handle yean of hard time, he ought to be able to handle two
weeks of Claire.  Of course he could handle it.  He just had to
practice a little self-control.  Starting right now, he told himself,
keeping his attention riveted on the beefy, slow-moving guard, who had
finally located his bin, so that his gaze wouldn't wander in her
direction.  If he didn't look, maybe he wouldn't want.

The guard upended the bin, dumping Luke's belongings onto the counter
in front of him.  " " Says here that your clothes are being held as
evidence, " he said.

Luke recalled the bloodstains he'd gotten on his shirt and pants, and
nodded.

"Return those clothes you're wearing now within two days, or you'll be
charged for them," the guard continued, as if by rote.

Luke reached for his car keys and shoved them into his jeans pocket.
Next he picked up his wallet, which had been emptied, the contents now
scattered across the dingy, tan Formica.  Coins, dollar bills, two
tickets to an upcoming performance of a prominent magician, two
condoms, the edges of the foil packets well creased, and several
photographs that had been clipped or folded to fit inside his wallet "
" Fifty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents" the guard was saying as
Luke dropped the money into his pocket and quickly gathered the other
items, shoving them haphazardly into the wallet.

As he picked up the condoms, he felt a crazy urge to point out that
they'd been tucked inside his wallet for so long he'd forgotten they
were even there.  When he glanced sideways at Claire, however, she was
studying the overhead light with apparent fascination.  The last items
he picked up were the photographs, taking care to slide them in without
bending them.  This time when he looked at Claire she was watching him
closely.  Belatedly, he noted the picture on top and hurriedly flipped
his wallet shut.  " " All set?  " she asked.

Luke nodded, relieved by her even tone.  Not that there was any reason
it should be anything else, he reassured q1f as he signed a form
stating that he had received qerything due him, and they were finally
able to walk outside There was no reason for Claire to feel anything
more than a passing interest in the photographs he carried in his
pocket.  And if he were careful, it would stay that way for the nest
two weeks.

Overhead, the July sun was like a fire blazing in a sky so blue it made
his eyes hurt to look at it.  The afternoon heat came off the blacktop
below in waves that smelled of city and car eshaust, and Luke loved
every bit of it-the heat and the noise and the gritty, familiar smell.
It smelled like froedom.

He wanted to remember it all.  His arrest had been so sudden and
unexpected that he hadn't had time to prepare himself.  Now, thanks to
Claire, he would have time.  He wanted to store up enough memories of
the sights and smells and feel of life to last him however long they
put him away for.

And he wanted to live every minute he had coming, he thought a little
desperately as Claire led the way across the parking lot.  For the next
two weeks he was going to cram into each day as much living as he
could.  He was going to do everything he wanted to do.  Well, make that
almost everything , he thought wistfully, as Claire stopped beside a
dark blue Volvo sedan and he reluctantly lifted his gaze from the
mesmerizing movement of her hips to her face.

"Is this your car?  " he asked.

"Yes," she replied as she unlocked the door.  She hesitated as she was
about to slip behind the wheel.  "Is that

"Is what funny?"

"My car "

Luke shook his head, running a solemn gaze over the vehicle' Four door
sedan, nice conservative blue that doesn't show the dirt, safest car on
the road-nope, nothing funny about that at all: '

"Then why did you have that little smirk on your faoe when I said this
was my car?  "

"What smirk?"  "

" The same one you have right now: '

He did his best to move his lips into a less-offensive expression'
Better " " Not really.  "

"How about this?"  he inquired, tryingagain.

"Just get in," she snapped.

Luke climbed into the seat beside her.  "Look, Claire, I'm sorry."

"Forget it: She reached into her purse for a pair of sunglasses and
slid them on.  She was a knockout in sunglasses, And her skirt, as she
moved around to fasten her seat belt and toss her purse into the rear
seat, climbed steadily higher.  Hoping he might be truly blessed, Luke
looked to see if the car had a manual transmission, already imagining
the provocative flexing of thigh muscles as she worked the clutch.  It
didn't, damn it.  Just the same, the drive home from jail promised to
be a hell of a lot more enjoyable than his ride there.

"No, I mean it, I am sorry," he said again.  "I don't want you to think
I was laughing at your car "

"I'm sure you weren't," she retorted.  "Not directly, anyway."

"

" Meaning?  "

She turned her head toward him.  "I'm sure that what you were really
smirking at is me.  I'm sure that you find it all very amusing-me, my
career, the clothes I wear, the car I drive, the fact that I have my
retirement fund invested in blue chips instead of commodities, and that
yes, damn it, I like navy blue can and suits and shoes because they
don't show dirt and I always make the practical choice and never take
chances.  But you know what?  I really don't care.  You can go right
ahead and smirk all you want.  Because while I may not be the sort of
wild and reckless and ravishingly exqiting woman you personally find
apqaling, I do have what it takes to save your ungrateful butt."

"Feel better?"  he asked quietly as she shaightened in her seat and
started the engine.

"Is there some reason I should?"

"I thought you might, now that you got all that off your chest.  Sounds
to me like it's been building up there for a long time."

"Since yesterday, to be exact."

"Longer than that, if you ask me."

"I didn't: '

"True."  He adjusted his seat to make more room for his legs and made
himself comfortable.  "So why don't you?  Take chances, I mean."

"Because I'm too smart: '

"Smart?"  he queried, watching her face.  "Or scared?"

She shot him an irritaterl glanoe.  "Just fasten your seat belt, okay?
"

It took them about fifteen minutes to drive to the Atlantic

City waterfront and then twice that long to make their way along
tourist-clogged Atlantic Avenue.  Ordinarily, Luke had no patience for
sitting in traffic, but today he didn't mind at all.  He welcomed the
opportunity to study familiar landmarks, committing their details to
memory.  He didn't even mind the silence.  In fact, he preferrerl it.
As they inched along, he glanced down the side streets with names
familiar to everyone who'd ever played Monopoly-Ohio Avenue, Indiana,
Kentucky.

He caught glimpses of the casinos that were the reason for all the
tourists and traffic.  Caesar's, Bally's, Trump Plaza.  At one time or
another, he'd played and won at all of them, frequenting their most
high-stakes tables and the posh, private rooms reserved for a select
clientele.  Of course, he'd lost, too, but not often.  He'd been lucky
and he knew it.

Luck runs in streaks and it always runs out, the old-times had warned
him over and over.  They'd been right, even if his luck hadn't run out
in the manner they'd expected-over a deck of cards or a pair of dice.

Gambling had always been a game to him, not a passion and oertainly not
a compulsion, as it.  became for so many who haunted this seaside
resort and who were, in turn, haunted by its slick, neon facade and
promises of fortune, By the time Max Feiffer had offered him the job of
security manager for the Delta Queen, Atlantic City's newest and
grandest hotel and casino, he'd been ready to quit and try something
new.

As they passed Tennessee Avenue, the colorful, onion topped domes of
the Taj Mahal came into full view, then the unmistakable riverboat
design of the Showboat and finally , the majestic, welcoming sight of
the grand lady herself , the Delta Queen.  Home.  Or at least as close
to it as Luke could remember.

The hotel and grounds covered a full city block.  The front approach
was a redbrick, circular drive lined with formal gardens abloom with
dozens of different species of all-white flowers.  The back, with its
wide, multi tiered veranda, opened onto the boardwalk for which
Atlantic City was famed, afford inga spectacular ocean view.  Unlike
most of the area's hotels and casinos, where glitter and ostentation
knew no bounds, the Delta was all clean white lines and dark red tiled
roof, a tribute to the easy, gracious living of the South from which it
drew its inspiration.

Inside, as well, the architects and designers had opted for elegance
over flash, with slow-moving ceiling fans, tropical foliage and
hand-painted floor tiles reminiscent of courtyards in the French
Quarter of New Orleans.  If it was possible for any hotel with a
multimillion-dollar casino, eighteen restaurants and bars and over
eight-hundred rooms to be called warm and homey, it was the Delta.

"Where are you staying?"  Luke thought to ask Claire as she turned onto
the one-way street that led to the hotel's drive.

"Here," she replied, look inga bit surprised that he had to ask.

"I suppose I should have guessed that," he said.  "Since this is the
scene of the crime."

"Among other things.  I thought that since we'll be working together,
it makes sense for me to be staying as close to your place as
possible."

"But I was still in jail when you arrived."

"I knew the judge would agree to bail: " "How did you know I'd agree to
it?  "

She stopped at the entrance to the hotel parking garage to pull a
ticket from the automatic dispenser and look straight at Luke.  He
didn't need to see behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses.  Her smug
little smile was enough.

"Hecause," she said, "good lawyers are irresistibly persuasive.  And as
I told you yesterday, I'm a very good lawyer."

Undemanding that his very presence there in her car only added credence
to her claim, Luke wisely opted for silence as she located an open
space on an upper level and parked.

"What room are you in?"  he asked as they headed toward the garage
elevator.

"Threqsixteen," she replied, stepping through the doors he held open.

Luke frowned and hit the button for the lobby.  "Come with me to the
front desk.  I want to pick up my mail and take care of a few things:
He smiled with grim amusement'I suppose it might also be a good idea to
let them know I'm back, before someone spots me and turns me in as an
escapee."

In the short time it took for them to make their way from the elevator
to what Claire knew had to be the biggest hotel lobby she had ever
seen, she came to understand that the chances of Luke Cabrio being
turned in to the police by anyone connected with the Delta Queen were
smaller than her chances of walking into the casino and hitting the
jackpot with her first pull of a slot-machine handle.  Judging from the
warm welcome he received from everyone from maintenance men to regular
patrons, she guessed the folks here were much more likely to aid and
abet him in any escape attempt he might make.

He took time to stop and speak briefly with everyone who greeted him,
listening to their egpressions of astonishment and disbelief at what
had happened and accepting their good wishes.  Claire paid close
attention to everything that was said, hoping Luke's comments might
reveal something new about the night of the shooting or about himself,
but while he was a patient listener, he volunteered nothing.  By the
time they finally reached the reservations desk, she'd learned only
that Luke had a lot of friends.

At least ten people were waiting along the velvet ropes to check in,
but the instant the tall, willowy blond woman be hind the desk caught
sight of Luke, she motioned him to a clear space at the end of the
counter and hurried to join him.

"Luke, thank heavens," she eaclaimed, her cobalt eyes wide and
obviously enhanoed by colored contact lenses.  She was smiling so
eagerly that Claire suspected the only thing keeping her out of Luke's
arms was the wide counter between them.

"I just knew they'd have to let you go.  I've been telling everyone
a=ound here exactly that-that if you shot this Addison guy it was
because he deserved it, and that it would all be cleared up and you'd
be back where you belong: '

"Well, I'm not sure how cleared up anything is, but for the time being,
I'm back: '

"It will all work out," the young woman insisted, dropping her voice as
she leaned across the counter and covered Luke's hand with her own.
"You'll see."

"Thanks, Lynn.  I know you're busy, but-"

"Steve can handle it," she interjected, waving her hand toward the
young man stand inga short distance away.  "What can I do for you,
Luke?"

"First I'd like you to page Max and let him know I'm here.  Then I'd
appreciate it if you would grab my mail and check to see if the room
next to mine is available "

"One sec."

The room next to his, Claire mused, not sure whether she was flattered,
irritated or alarmed by the fact that he wanted her so close by.  She
had no doubt that that's why he had inquired about its availability.
Well, almost no doubt, just enough of one to make her refrain from
commenting on his request and risk making a fool of herself.

Lynn was back so quickly you might think there was a bonus in it for
her.  Claire thought about what that bonus might be and suppressed a
smirk.

"Here's your mail," she said placinga half-inch-high stack of envelopes
in fmnt of Luke.  "Max said he'll be right down to see you, and yes,
the room next to yours is available"

"Good," Luke countered, smiling at her.  "Ms.  Mackenzie here is
currently registered to 316.  Could you please arrange to have her
switched to the room next to mine?"

Lynn glanced at Claire, as if seeing her for the first time.  Claire
forced a small smile that was not returned.  Instead, the other woman
pursed her lips and drummed bright crimson nails on the marble
countertop.

"Gee, I don't know, Luke.  You know the whole east wing on fifteen is
strictly reserved.  Max will-"

"I'll clear it with Max," Luke assured her, his smile easy and
reassuring.  "You just take care of the details for me, okay?"

Claire knew well the power of that smile he flashed and wasn't at all
surprised to see Lynn nod and smile back at him, just the way she'd
sesn teachers in high school smile at q, as if they couldn't help
themselves.  The man did have a way about him that was undeniable.  A
way with hotel clerks and high school teachers alike.  And with lady
lawyers , too, prodded an inner voice.

"Luke, there's really no need to go to this trouble," Claire said
hurriedly.  "The room I'm in now is fine."

"

" You said you thought we should be close, " he rominded her.

Claire nodded, wondering if she simply imagined the hint of amusement
in his gaze.  " " True, but as long"

"Then iYs settled," he broke in.  "Lynn will handle everything."  He
turned back to the other woman.  " " You can send a bellhop to help
with her things in about..  thirty minutes?  " he suggested, looking to
Claire for approval.

She nodded.

"Thirty minutes," he said to Lynn with another smile.  "Thanks: '

They moved away from the desk, Claire still not sure she should allow
herself to be maneuvered this way.

"Luke, I'd really rather you hadn't-"

"Luke, there you are: '

They both turoed toward the man approaching them, a broad smile on his
face.

"How's it going, Maa?"  Luke said, extending his hand.

Claire looked on as the two men clasped hands for a handshake that
turned into something more emotional as Max Feiffer, the hotel manager,
placed his other hand on Luke's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.
Feiffer was a distinguished-looking man somewhere in his late fifties
or early sixties.  His steel gray hair was slicked straight back from a
high forehead and his appealing face was dominated by alert brown eyes.
As a lawyer, Claire was attuned to body language in and out of the
courtroom, and she detected real affection in Maz Feiffer's attitude
toward Luke.

"It's good to see you back here," he said to Luke.  "A couple more days
of your stonewalling and I was planning to break into jail to pound
some sense into you: '

Luke smiled tolerantly.  "This lady saved you the trouble ," he said,
extending his arm to draw Claire into the qnversation.  "Claire
Mackenzie, I'd like you to meet Max Feiffer.  Max is the manager and
operational genius in residence here at the Delta," he added, something
that Claire's research had ahqeady revealed, and her own observations
confirmed.  Max Feiffer looked like a man accustomed to giving orders
and seeing that they were carried out.

"Max," Luke continued, "Claire is an attorney from out of state.  She's
going to be working on my case along with the public defender."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Max exclaimed with obvious excitement as
he reached out to grasp Claire's hand in a warm greeting.  "Ms.
Mackenzie, I'm delighted to meet you, more delighted than you'll ever
laqow, in fact.  I talked myself crazy trying to convince this guy he
needed to bring in a big gun with more ezperience than some
wet-behindtheqars

PD to get himself out of this mess, but he wouldn't lisbeqn.  I don't
know what heavenly cloud you dropped from, but I welcome you: '

Claire smqed, charmed by Max Feiffer's friendly manner as well as his
obvious conoern for Luke.  She recognized a potential ally when she saw
one.  ".hhaq you," she replied.  "I'll do everything I can to hslp
Luke."

"Good, good," Max said.  "Luke said you're from out of state.  I assume
that means you'll be staying here with us while you're in town?"

Claire nodded.  "Yes, I am.  The Delta Queen is a beautiful hotel, Mr.
Feiffer."

"Please, call me Max.  And thank you," he said, beaming with pride.

"As a matter of fact," Luke said, "I had Claire moved to the room next
to mine.  I didn't think you'd mind.  It will make it easier for us to
confer."

"Of course I don't mind.  And your stay here is on the house," he
added, turning to Claire.  "Anything you want, anything you nesd while
you are here-laundry service, room service, whatever."  He waved his
hand in the air for emphasis.  " " You just call and it's yours: '

"Thank you, but thaYs really not necessary-"

"It's necessary to me," Max interrupted.  He clapped Luke on the back.
"Luke is like one of my own family hell , maybe even closer than that.
I can't do for him what you can, but I can do this.  Please."

Claire hesitated.  Then, prompted by Luke's small, bomused smile and
his slight nod urging her to go along with Mag, she acquiesced.

"And, of coune, I'll help with his case, too," Max assursd her.  "Any
way I can.  You need a character witness , you've got one," he
declared, thumping his chest.  "Hell, I'll get you a hundred of them:
As he spoke, he waved his hand around the lobby with its generous
presence of uniformed employees.

"Thanks," Claire said.  "I may take you up on that offer"

His expression tightened to a worried frown and his voice lowered. "You
can help him, can't you, Claire?  I mean, you've seen the evidenoe
against him and you think you can mount a successful defense?"

"I need to gather more material before I make any specific decisions,
of course... and get some pertinent information directly from Luke,"
she added pointedly.  "But I have every reason to believe that we can
prove Luke did not kill Nick Addison: '

Claire doubted that Max's sigh of relief would be quite so heartfelt if
he knew that, so far, her belief in Luke's innocence was based more on
whimsy-her own-than on any hard, cold facts.  But that would change,
she reassured herself , just as soon as she persuaded Luke to open up
to her about what had happened that night.

"Then you have handled cases like this before?"  Max asked her.  "Tough
murder cases, I mean?"  He shook his head.  "What am I saying?  Of
course you have.  You don't bring in a big gun from out of state unless
she's got the right egperience, right, Luke?"

"Damn straight, Max," Luke agreed, the note of dry humor in his voice
nearly imperoeptible.

"So, have you handled any cases I might recognize?"  Maz asked
Claire.

"Several," Luke replied before she was foroed to come up with a
facqsaving reply.  "But Claire makes it a practice never to discuss
past clients... a consideration that was instrumental in my decision to
go with her, I might add: '

"Of course," Max agreed.  "We want to keep as low a profile as possible
on all this, for the sake of the hotel, as well as Luke.  Don't want
any rumors flying around about a trigger-happy security man: His wide
forehead creased.  " Notthat I think Luke is trigger-happy, or that he
shot this fellow without a damn good reason.  "

"Of could se not," Claire agreed.

"IYs just that none of us really know much about what happened that
night: Max slanted a sheepish look toward Luke.  " "He's not much of a
talker under the best of circumstances , and God knows these are far
from being the best."

"Actually," she replied, deciding that since Luke had covered for her,
turnabout was fair play, "the less talking Luke and all of us do before
the trial, the better."

"Of course, of course.  My lips are sealed."

"Great, Max.  Now if you'll excuse us," Luke said, "Claire has to get
her things together to change rooms, and I see Brad over there.  I want
to introduce him to Claire, in case she needs him for anything: '

"Go right ahead," Max urged.  "And, Claire, please remenber what I
said-whatever you need, just ask.  If the front desk or Brad can't help
you, call me directly."

Claire thanked him, relieved to have Luke hurry her away.  It was a new
and not very pleasant egperience to be made to feel that her
credentials were somehow lacking, and her pride was still smarting
slightly.  In the six years she'd been practicing law, she'd already
made a name for herself in her field.  If Max had been looking for a
tax attorney or planning a corporate merger, she could have rattled off
any number of impressive cases she had handled.  Unfortunately , at the
moment, that was not the kind of expertise Max needed, and neither did
Luke.

"Who's Brad?"  she asked Luke as they crossed the lobby.  " " Brad
Cantrell.  He's the tall guy over there by the casino entrance," Luke
told her, indicat inga young man engrossed in conversation with two
uniformed guards.

"Why do you think I might need his help?"  she asked.

"He's my assistant: He gave a short laugh.  " Cornection , make that my
replacement.  "

Surprised, Claire took a closer look at Brad Cantrell.  He looked to be
somewhere in his late twenties, with high cheekbones and long, straight
black hair falling loossly from a center part.  His olive suit was
fashionably unstructured and worn with a muted, collarless shirt.  It
projected a vaguely European look that suited him well.  He definitely
did not resemble any security manager Claire had ever encountered But
then, she reminded herself, Atlantic City wasn't Providence.

"Aren't you being a bit premature in deciding you need a replacement?"
she asked Luke.

"No, simply realistic.  Something you seem to have a problem with."

"Ha.  ThaYs rich."

"What is?"

"Being lectured about reality by a man who chooses to live in what
looks like a giant set from Gone With the Wind, and spends his days
supervisinga bunch of perpetual adolescents playing games."

To her amazement, he laughed.

"I never looked at it quite that way, but I suppose you're right.  The
important thing is that I know when it's a game I'm playing: He stopped
and spun her around to meet his gaze.  " How about you?  "

Chapter 4

Luke's question made Claire think.  It was fortunate he didn't demand
an answer on the spot, because she didn't really have one.  Perhaps
running down here to rescue him could be construed as a game of some
sort, or at least a childish reaction to matters at home.  A way of
taking charge in the face of what lately seemed to be an insidious loss
of control over her work, her time, even her own personal life.

Graduating from law school and joining Mackenzie and Dwyer, the firm
founded and headed by her father and his lifelong friend, John Dwyer,
had seemed like a dream come true at the time.  The only trouble was
that Claire was no longer sure if it was her dream or her father's.
More and more lately she had the sensation that she had stepped into a
cookie-cutter opening that had been waiting just for her, a role with
preordained standards and expectations.  Maybe the role had fit once,
or maybe in an effort to please her father , she had squeezed herself
to make it fit.  All she knew was that with each passing day the fit
felt tighter and tighbes, as if she were being suffocated by her own
life.

Last week's win in the Henderson case should have been a professional
high point.  Instead, the outcome had left her with a bad taste in her
mouth that all the congratulations and pats on the back from her
colleagues couldn't wash away.  She'd hoped that getting away for a
while would clear her head, and that working to prove Luke's innocence
would help her remember why she'd wanted to be a lawyer in the first
place.  Now that she was actually here, however, seeing Luke on a daily
basis, actually spending time with him, the other, more personal
reasons behind her impulsive dssion to get involved in his case were
not as easily brushed aside as they had been during the flurry of
packing and last minute arrangements back home.

Was she simply playing a game, as Luke's question seemed to suggest?
Acting out a fantasy?  Using fate and his dire predicament for a chance
to revive an old, adolescent daydream?  One thing was certain, being
around him wasn't doing much to clear her head.

Brad Cantrell proved to be as charming as he was good-looking .  which
was saying something.  It didn't surprise Claire to learn that he had
done some modeling in New York before being hired by Luke to assist in
overseeing security for the hotel and casino.

"From modeling to security-thaYs quite a career change," she
remarked.

"I never considered model inga career," Brad explained.  "A scout for a
modeling agency approached me on the beach one day and it just sort of
happened."

"$ounds very exciting."

"Sounds being the operative word," Brad drawled.  "For two years I did
a lot of getting up early and waiting around for photographers and
stylists and prop people and everyone else who had an opinion on how a
particular shot ought to look.  If there's one thing I learned to hate,
iYs waiting: '

Claire chuckled.  "So how did you end up at the Delta Queen?"

Brad's sudden discomfit and the flicker of alarm in his eyes made
Claire wonder if that's how she had reacted a few minutes ago when Max
inquired about her experience in handling murder cases.  She had a
hunch it was, because once again Luke stepped smoothly into the breach.
"" You might say that by hiring me, Max saved me from a life I once
thought I wanted, " Luke explained easily.  " "And I simply did the
same for Brad "

"I only wish I could return the favor.  I mean by helping Luke," Brad
added.  He looked at Claire.  "I'm not denying

I wanted to move up the ladder here eventually, but not like this "

"Maybe you can help," Claire told him.  "Since you're Luke's assistant,
you'd be in a position to know just about everything that goes on
around here, right?"

"That's what I'm getting paid for," he replied with a nod.

"What do you know about the night Nick Addison was killed?"

"Nothing," Luke declared before Brad had a chance to reply.  "No one at
the Delta knows anything about that night... at least not anything that
can help: '

"I won't know what will help until I hear it," she retorted , fir inga
warning look Luke's way.

"I know one thing that ought to help," Brad interjected.  "I know Luke
didn't shoot Addison "

"How?"  Claire demanded instantly.  "How do you know that?"

"Because I know Luke," Brad countered.  "And I know he couldn't have
killed anyone: '

Claire concealed her disappoinhnent.  For a second, she'd thought Brad
might be able to offer something in the way of real evidence.

"At least, he couldn't have killed anyone that way," Brad continued,
only adding to Claire's disappointment.  "I've worked side by side with
this guy for almost two years and he's got too damn much control to do
something like that,

I've seen him handle drunks and psychos and gamblers so down-and-out
they'd kill you for one more stake at craps, and he treats them all as
gently as if they were made of blown glass.  And I've seen him walk
away from trouble plenty of times, just turn his back on insults that
would make most other men-me, included-go ballistic.  The man's got ice
in his veins: "Maybe so, but several witnesses heard Luke arguing with
Addison in the lobby earlier that night.  Doesn't the fact that he was
somehow driven to arguing and shouting"

"Shouting?"  Brad repeated, his dark brows arching skeptically.

"Well, apparently it was obvious to bystanders that they were arguing.
So I assumed-"

"Check it out," Brad interrupted again, shaking his head.  '"I'm not
sure what happened in the lobby that night, but I can't picture Luke
losing it in public that way.  And as far as I know there was no
shouting heard coming from Addison 's room later, and no signs of a
struggle.  The way I figure it, someone just walked in there and blew
him away.  "

"Someone in full control," Claire suggested.

Brad nodded.  "

" You got it: '

She sensed Luke's amusement.

"Someone with ice in his veins?"  she pressed.

Brad winced at how easily he'd been trapped.  "Hey, thaYs not what I
meant at all: q'I know you didn't," Claire told him gently.  "But on
the witness stand thaYs how a good prosecutor would twist your
testimony."

Brad's brow furrowed.  "Do you really think I might be called as a
witness?"  q'It's possible, if only as a character witness.  But I
haven't really even begun to think in terms of witnessa.  " She smiled
at him.  " and we'd have plenty of time to work on your testimony
beforehand.  "

"Good thing, huh?"  Brad countered, returning her smile.  "Besides,
that was just one scenario of how it could have happened.  I've been
thinking it's also possible the killer didn't plan on shooting him, at
all, but Addison scared him somehow and barn... he fired."

Claire nodded, considering his theory.  "Interesting: '

"Now that would rule Luke out entirely.  The man just doesn't lose
control like that.  And he doesn't scare easy.  If Luke did kill
Addison," Brad concluded earnestly, "he'd have had to have a damn good
reason: " " One more question, " Claire said hurriedly.  Although she'd
been studiously avoiding glancing at Luke, so as not to give him a
chance to interrupt, she could sense his growing restlessness.  "Why do
you think Luke would allow the police to think he's guilty if he's
not?"

Brad frowned.

"Objection," Luke exclaimed.  "The question calls for conjecture on the
part of the witness."

"He's not a witness," Claire pointed out, annoyed.  "And this isn't a
court of law."

"It also isn't the time or place for a lengthy interview of a man who's
supposed to be working."

Grudgingly, Claire acknowledged that he was right.

Luke glanced at his watch and then at Brad.  "Shouldn't you be doing a
monitor check about now?"

"

" Yes, but what did she mean-"

"In fact, I'd say that check is past due," Luke interjected
pointedly.

"Yes, sir, Boss," Brad said, chuckling and shaking his head.  He
whacked Luke on the shoulder as he turned to leave.  "Nice to have you
back here cracking the whip..  and nice to meet you, Claire."

"" Thanks, Brad.  We'll talk again.  " " at her and Luke wer his
shoulder.

"Remind me to keep him busy for the next two weeks," Luke grumbled as
they stepped into the elevator.

"Now why would you want to do that?"  she asked.

"Because he talks too much.  And," he added, "because I'm supposed to
be looking after you.  Cantrell is hell on women: '

"Somehow that doesn't come as a surprise."

"No?"

She shook her head.  "The man gives new meaning to the e;sptsion
drop-dead gorgeous."

"Yes?"  He shrugged carelessly and Claire thought how easily the same
descriptions, drop-dead gorgeous and hell on women, could be applied to
Luke, as well.  "I never really notioed," he added as the elevator
continued past her floor.  At her quirrical look, he explained, "I
thought I'd show you your new room first and then you can go back for
your "

The elevator stopped at the top floor and he trailed her out,
continuing their conversation about Brad.  "In fact, if you ask me, the
kid needs a haircut: '

Claire couldn't help chuckling.  "Kid?  How old is Brad? liqventyqight?
 7qventy-nine?  All of four or five years younger than you?"

"Around that.  But it's not the number of years that count, iYs how
hard you lived them.  Cantrell's still got a lot Io learn: '

"Then what made you pick him for this job?  Why not one with more
experience?"

Luke shrugged again, his gaze on the white magnolias woqven into the
hallway carpet.  "He has to learn somowhae Besides, he's a damn hard
worker and he owed me oq.  Ambition and loyalty aren't a bad
combination in an qsistant: '

"Not bad at all.  Fxactly how big a one did he owe you?"

"qYou ask an awful lot of questions."

"I need an awful lot of answers.  And I need them fast.  I only have
two weeks: '

He acknowledged that with a soft chuckle.

"So," she continued, "how big?"

"Not very," he countered, shrugging.  "When Brad started raking in big
bucks from modeling, he got into the habit of coming down to Atlantic
City weekends, playing, hanging out at the casinos: '

"Did he win?"

"At first.  But even his losses didn't discourage him.  Brad's father
is a vet out in some dinky Pennsylvania town and Brad has five broth en
and sis ten a solid middle-class family.  I'm sure the money he was
making seemed like a fortune to him at the time: He stopped, his
eapression rueful, as they reached the end of the corridor and had to
turn either left or right.

"You'd be amazed how few spins of a roulette wheel it takes to turn a
fortune into pocket change," he went on.  "Eventually Brad got in a
little over his head and I helped him to... extradite himself.  In the
process, we got friendly enough for me to know that he'd begun to hate
what he was doing, being treated like a pieoe of prime beef.  When I
needed someone to be my assistant, I offered him the job: '

"Apparently it's worked out," she observed as he turned right and
continued along the hallway.  The doon and woodwork there were painted
creamy white, the wallpaper a subtle pattern of gold, white and moss.

"Better than I expected," he replied.  "As I said, Brad works hard and
he learns fast: He glanced at her, his mouth twisted wryly.  " But he
still needs a haircut: '

Claire laughed.  "My, my, how times change.  It seems to me I recall
that same comment being made about you a few years ago."

Luke stopped and studied her thoughtfully.  "That was more than a few
years ago, Claire."

"qvelve, to.be egact."  She smiled thoughtfully.  "It's funny,
sometimes high school seems like another lifetime, and sometimes it
seems as if it was just yesterday that I was going to classes, seeing
friends."

"How does it feel right now?"  he asked quietly.  "Right this minute.
Like yesterday or another lifetime?"

It wasn't so much his question as the way he was looking at her that
suddenly made Claire feel as if the air in her lungs weighed a thousand
pounds, as if she might never draw a normal breath again.  He was
standing very close, his egpression serious and intent, as if he was
looking for an answer in more than words.

She managed a shrug.  "At the moment, high school seeqns far away.  I
suppose because I have so many other things on my mind... like finding
a way to prove you're innocent."

His eyes narrowed.  With disappointment?  Disbelief?  Did he suspect
just how vivid her memories of him were and expect her to confess that
being close to him like this had a way of making her feel like an
awkward, lovqstruck teenager all over again?

"Your time would be better spent reminiscingaqut high school," he said
dryly as he turned and punched in a five digit code to open the
combination lock on the door of

Room 1562.  "But as long as you're determined to do this you might as
well do it in comfort.  '

"Is this your room?"  she asked as he pushed the door wide and invited
her inside.

"No.  IYs young: '

She stopped and spun back to face him.  "Mine?  Do you have the
combination to all the room locks committed to qoq,?"

"You give me too much credit," he murmured, his mouth qving in a
self-deprecating smile.  "What I have is the code q oqverride the
combination to all the room locks: how you got into Addison's room that
night?  "

He hesitated a second, as if caught off guard by the question' Yes

"I see."

She moved into the room, barely noticing the luxurious decor of what
was actually a two-room suite done in the same soft shades of white,
gold and moss as the hallway, but with added accents of peach.  She was
too busy thinking,

"What do you see that's making you pinch your eyebrows together like
that?"  Luke asked her.  He came around to stand before her, taking her
totally by surprise by touching the pad of his thumb to the spot
between her brows and kneading lightly.  "If you're not careful you'll
get wrinkles : '

"The way it's going so far," Claire replied, trying not to be
distracted by the tiny shivers his touch sent coursing through her, "I
fully expect to walk away from this with a few wrinkles and a few gray
hairs: '

"Not very glamorous souvenirs from your first trip to Atlantic City.
We'll have to see if we can't do better."

"How do you know iYs my first trip here?"

A spark of amusement flashed in his eyes.  "The way you kept trying to
peek into the casino over Brad's shoulder.  And," he added, "the fact
that you're not a gambler by nature."

"Are you?"  she asked, forcing herself to move away from him.  "A
gambler by nature, I mean?"

Luke nodded.  "Born and bred.  As far back as I can remember my old man
bet on anything that moved... not to mention his share of things that
were supposed to move and didn't," he added, his voice heavy with
cynicism.  "And since my mother always said that marrying him was the
biggest chance any sane woman ever took, I figure I come by it honestly
on both sides."

"What do you gamble on?"

"Now?"  He shook his head.  "Not a thing.  That was one of the
conditions I accepted when I took the job here."

"How about before you took this job?  What did you gamble on then?"

"Cards, dice, the spin of a wheel, who would score the most points in
the third quarter of the Super Bowl-things like that: '

"Sounds like a full-time job," she remarked.  "When did you find time
to work?"

Luke shot her a surprised look, then laughed softly.  "I thought you
knew: '

"Knew what?"

"Until Max hired me five years ago, gambling was my full-time job."

"You were a professional gambler?"  she asked in dismay

"Why, Claire, I do believe you look more shocked by that than by the
very real possibility that I may be a murderer."  His expression held a
note of mockery.

"ThaYs probably because I'm thinking about how your background is going
to play for a jury."

"I see.  On the disreputability scale it's okay that I might be a
cold-blooded killer, but not that I played five-card stud to pay the
rent."

"Stop smirking.  No one is condoning murder, but the fact is that the
murder charge is something we have to deal with, and it would be nice
if you had a long history of responsible , respectable employment to
offset some of the negatives : '

"Sorry.  If I'd known I was going to be charged with murder, I would
have volunteered to teach Sunday school on the side: '

"It wouldn't have hurt," she shot back, searching for a bright spot in
the shambles causerl by the grenade Luke had just tossed her.  A
professional gambler, of all things.  She 'apposed she had looked
shocked, and she was.  Her surprise, however, came more from being
confronted with a rvay of life so far from her own realm of experience
than from the thought of Luke having such an unorthodox occupation

On the contrary, it was easy to imagine him in a black tuxedo, idly
watching the spin of a roulette wheel, or in rolled shirtsleeves at a
poker game, his eyes hard, his expression inscrutable as he carelessly
signaled the dealer for another card.  There was, and always had been,
something about Luke that was slightly untamed.  A hundred years ago he
probably would have been found squared off in a gunfight in the main
street of some rowdy cowboy town.  Today that craving to live life
close to the edge might be satisfied by risking everything on a roll of
the dice.

She regarded him with a small shake of her head.  "A professional
gambler hmm ?"

"I guess you could call it that," he said, a slight smile playing at
his lips.  "Not that it ever felt like much of a profession.  More like
a hobby, really."

"Or an addiction: '

His expression grew somber.  "I've seen plenty of people addicted to
it, but thaYs not how it was for me.  When I docided to stop gambling
to handle security here, instead, I just stopped."

He looked startled by the question.  Or maybe trapped was a more
accurate description, Claire noted.

"I'm not sure what you mean: '

"Why did you decide to stop and do this, instead?"

He shrugged.  "I guess I was ready for a change."

"What made you become a gambler in the first place?"  she asked,
telling herself her interest was strictly related to the case.

"I was good at it," he said simply.  "Very good: '

"I've been told I'm pretty good at watercolors, too," she replied, her
tone slightly exasperated, " " but I don't spend my days painting
seascapes, instead of working.  "

"Maybe you should.  You sure don't seem real happy doing what you're
doing: '

Claire folded her arms across her chest.  "I'll have you know I love my
work: '

"Is that why you're here, instead of back in your office doing it?"

"For the last time," she retorted through gritted teeth, "I'm here to
try and help you.  That's what I do-I help people who need legal
advice.  This is not a game or a whim.  I'm not running away or trying
to use you to make a name , for myself and, to tell you the truth, I'm
getting pretty tired of your comments to the contrary."

Claire was braced for an argument or, at the very least, a sarcastic
retort.  Instead, he unleashed the same irresistible smile he'd used on
the reservations clerk downstairs, and to her disgust, she found
herself just as susceptible to its magic as the other woman had been.

"Then I apologize," he said.  "You have my word, no more comments: '

She felt her irritation dissolve into a warm cuddly feeling that was
slowly spreading through her.  "So you finally believe me?"

"No," he countered matter-of-factly.  "I just promise not #;e comment
on it."

She sighed.  "I guess that will have to do: '

"So what time would you like to meet for dinner?"  he

"Thanks, but I don't expect you to take me to dinner " q'Why not?  We
have a deal, remember?  "

"Yes, but having to entertain me was not part of it."

"Entertaining you wasn't exactly what I had in mind, "lute countered,
the sardonic curve of his mouth causing her to push uncomfortably. ""
Although if you have your qart set on it, I'll give it my best shot. "
q " I'm sorry, when you suggested dinner, I assumed.  : '

She trailed off.  She'd assumed what?  That he was pro.  posinga date
rather than simply an addendum to the bargain she'd forced on him?
She'd rather starve to death than admit any such thing.

"Claire, our deal was that for the next two weeks, you do what you can
to prove I'm innocent and I make sure you don't get yourself hurt or
killed in the process.  Now, working here has made me pretty good at
deflecting trouble," he explained with a self-effacing shrug, "but even
I'm not so good that I can do it without being present."

Her eyes narrowed.  "What are you saying?"

" " I'm saying that you better get used to the idea of us being very..
close: '

"How close?"  she countered wariiy.

"Except for the time you spend in that bed," he esplained with a nod at
the king-size bed to his right, "I intend to be right by your side."

" " But what about your work?  " she protested.  " "Brad was all set to
handle things while I was gone.  We'll leave it that way.  If he does
need help, at least I'll be around: " "And the personal matters you
said you had to handle?  Surely you'll need-"

"We'll work it out," he interjected, his tone firm.  "I figure that
dinner tonight should give us plenty of time to coordinate our
schedules for the next two weeks, and for you to tell me, step by step,
exactly how you intend to go about proving that I didn't kill Nick
Addison: '

Luke was half-right, Claire mused as she gathered he things and waited
for the bellhop to arrive to help ha change rooms.  Dinner would give
them a chance to discqq their schedules for the next two weeks, but not
for her to q him how she planned to prove his innocence.  Mostly
bocause she had nothing to tell.

No plan.  No agenda.  No schedule, really.  The awkward truth that she
hadn't admitted to a soul-not Luke or Gerald

Rancourt or anyone back home-was that she wasn'the:actly sure how she
was going to pull this off.  She'd barely acknowledged her uncertainty
to herself, in fact.  Now, with her back to the wall, there was no
avoiding the possibility that she might be in over her head.

Eqccept for a few minor cases handled mainly to accomqodate important
clients, aI of her experience since law school had been in the area of
financial law and liability.

The criminal-law classes that had been her favorites in school seqed a
lifetime ago.  What she did recall from those dealt with standard cases
involving eyewitnesses or, at the very least, a defendant who
proclaimed his innocence and was willing to fight to prove it.  Luke
clearly wasn't planning to fight the charges against him.  She wasn t
even sure he was willing to cooperate with her.

So far, she hadn't wanted to push him too hard or pin him down to
specifics.  For him to believe so strongly that his case was hopeless,
and to so thoroughly distrust anyone who wanted to help, meant that he
had some pretty deep emotional scars to overcome.  She hoped to win his
confidence first and then ease him into opening up to her.  That wasn't
qng to happen, however, if she was forced to confess to q that she
hadn't yet decided what her first step should be, qer mind having a
sbep-by-sbep battle plan for the nest two qiqeelCs

So, she told herself, zipping shut the garment bag holdaq ha' suits,
she would just have to devise a battle plan.  A qq cqever and
comprehensive enough to convinoe Luke she qCwwhat she was doing.  A
plan to inspire his trust and his hope that he really did have a
chance.  A plan he believed in and that would give him reason to
believe =q' And, she thought, groaning as she glanced at the clock, she
had to come up with it in less than three

For the first time since returning to her room, she notioed the
blinking red light on the phone and dialed the hotel operator for her
messages.  There had been one call from Gerald Rancourt and three from
her father.  Claire grimaced Was she ready to speak with her father?

Their last several meetings had quickly degenerated into shouting
matches.  He was outraged by her decision to come here and help defend
a man whom he considered guilty by nature.  And Claire was more than
outraged-she felt used and be hayed and angry as hell-over her father's
covert role in the Henderson matter.

When she had first been assigned to defend Stuart Henderson , a
prominent bank president and longtime friend of her father, against
charges of fraud and unfair banking practices, she had been flattered
by the firm's apparent confidence in her and was eager to prove she
could handle such a high-profile case.  Not until the jury was already
out did the private detective she'd hired turn up a final bit of
evidence in the very convoluted paper trail of Henderson's undeniably
suspect dealings, opening her eyes to the fact that she hadn't been
assigned the case because of her ability , but rather her naivete.

Too late, she realized that she'd been chosen because she was one of
the few qualified attorneys in the firm of Maokenzie and Dwyer who
wasn't privy to the knowledge that her father had at one time been
involved in the same questionable land deal that had caused Henderson's
fortunes to come crashing in on him.  And, she reflected bitterly, the
one most bound by family loyalty to proceed even if she should find
out.

Oh, her father swore to her when she confronted him immediately after
the trial that his involvement had been minimal and that he'd pulled
out of the deal long before the transactions for which Henderson was
being tried had taken place.  Just as he'd sworn that if his
involvement had become known during the trial he would have come
forward to reveal the full truth and ensure that she was not subject to
a charge of conflict of interest.

For her own sake, Claire had to believe he would have.  Just as she had
to believe that she would have withdrawn from the case had she
discovered the truth in time.  But none of those belated good
intentions changed the fact that her father had used her, and in doing
so he had done more than steal the sweetness from what should have been
her greatest victory.  He had also thrown a shadow across her very
reasons for becominga lawyer in the first place, reasons that had besn
inspired in large part by a little girl's fascination with her father's
noble words on the importance of truth and justice.  It was going to
take her awhile to come to terms with that.

With a sigh, Claire reached for the phone to return Gerald 's call
first.

"I just wanted to let you know that I spoke with the DA: s office and a
police contact I have, " he told her when she reached him.

"How did it go?"

"Just about like this whole case is going... slow and frustrating as
hell."

" " Did you learn anything new?  " she asked, wondering if he'd called
simply to whine.

"Not half as much as I need to know, but then, anything is more than
I've gotten from my recalcihant client.  You know, usually I have to
sift through everythinga client tells me, trying to separate the
half-truths from the total bull that will never stand the light of day
in a courtroom, and I'm always wishing I didn't have to hear half of
what they want to tell me.  But I never before had a client who didn't
want to tell me anything.  Nothing.  Nadn.  Squat.  No confession, no
denial and no emotion.  WhaYs with this character?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out myself."

"So he hasn't talked to you about what happened that

"Not yet, but he's only been out a couple of hours.  Tell me what you
found out: '

"Like I said, it's not much, but it's interesting.  For starters ,
Cabrio wasn't even a suspect until he fingered himself"

"You mean he admitted it?"  Claire asked, feeling every muscle in her
body tighten anxiously.  "I thought you said"

"He didn't exactly admit anything," Gerald broke in, "It's like this.
Cabrio was already on the scene when the local polioe arrived, standing
over the body, with the gun still in his hand: '

"Right, that's all in the police report," she said impatiently

"But what's not quite so clear in the report is that the responding
officers assumed he was there because he hand1essecurity for the hotel.
They had no intention of questioning him as a suspect: " " What changed
their minds?  "

"He did.  Out of the blue he up and announces he wants a lawyer.  I get
the feeling he shocked the daylights out of those two cops.  They're
probably still wondering how it would have looked on their records if
they'd let a murdec suspect sashay away from the scene with their
blessing."

"Why would Luke do that?"  she wondered out loud.

"Good question.  The DA.  favors We old shock and remorse theory.  In
other words, upon viewing the corpse q and being confronted by the
cops, Cabrio was so overcome with guilt he spilled his guts."

"Except he didn't.  As you said, he hasn't actually confessed to
killing Addison: '

"He also hasn't actually denied it," he reminded her.  "A fact that is
sure to make a jury of reasonably normal individuals scratch their
heads in wonderment.  As for why he : did it, personally, I've been
doing this long enough to have;

jove in the First Degree 69 qrned never to underestimate the human
capacity for stu "Not Luke, " Claire said firmly.  " " If he gave
himself up, q knew exactly what he was doing: '

"Maybe.  Then again, you haven't heard the second half of my news...
what the DA.  has latched onto as a motive, at least for the moment."
q'What is it?  " Claire demanded anxiously.

"Jealousy."

"What?"

"You heard me, jealousy.  I had a little trouble imagining Cabrio as
the hotheaded, blinded-by-passion type myself, but that's what they
plan to go with.  Seems the argument that he and Addison had in the
lobby earlier in the evening was definitely over a woman, and at least
one witness heard Cabrio warn Addison that if he didn't stay away from
her, he'd kill him: '

"I thought no one was close enough to hear egactly what they were
saying," she said, reerecling inside from what Rancourt had revealed.

"Apparently someone was.  I have a copy of the guy's statement, as well
as several others.  I'll fax them to you at the hotel.  Maybe you can
follow up on them."

"All right," Claire agreed, thinking she'd just found out wqat her
first step should be.  "But what I really want to Imaw is who's the
woman involved?"

"You and me both.  I'm working on it, but the police and the DA's
office are both playing this close to the vest..  which might be a sign
that they don't have much and don't want us to know it: '

"Tqey'll have to tell us eventually," she said, thinking out qOud
again.  "In the meantime, I'll ask Luke about it: '

Rancourt's chuckle was biting.  "Good luck.  Tell me qething, Claire,
just between you and me, do you really qe this guy is innocent?  "

"Absolutely," she replied without hesitation.

" Then why the hell doesn't he say so?  "

"I don't know for sure," she admitted, "but I suspect q believes he's
going to take the fall for this, one way or the other, and in his mind
he's doing what he needs to in order to set himself up for the best
deal possible."

" " The only thing he's setting himself up for is an ironclad guilty
verdict on murder one.  The fact that he's not proclaiming his
innooence from the rooftops, like everyone else ever arrested, only
encourages the DA: '

"I know that and I know how this whole thing looks, but I still believe
that Luke is innocent: " "If you say so."

"You sound dubious: '

"If I am, it won't affect my efforts to defend him, you can count on
that: '

The lawyer in her could accept that.  She herself had argued and won
cases she didn't believe in on an emotional level.  But the woman in
her wanted to rant at him for not sharing her faith in Luke.

"So tell me," she said, "just between the two of us, what do you
believe?"  .

"The truth?"  "

" Of course.  "

"I believe the guy is guilty as hell."

After hanging up the phone, Claire stood with her arms folded across
her chest and stared without seeing through the hotel room window.  So
now it was out in the open.  Luke's own attoroey believed he was
guilty.  She'd gathered from Max Feiffer's remarks that although he was
squarely

, in Luke s coroer, he, too, was convinced that Luke had shot Nick
Addison.  Even Brad, after listening to her demolish his theory about
the shooting, had retreated to the position that if Luke had killed
Addison, he must have had a good reason qove in the First Degree 71

That left her.  Apparently she was the only one who believed Luke
couldn't have murdered anyone, simply because she believed so strongly
in him.  Certainly no one back home had shared her belief, much less
the strength of her conviction.  Not her parents or the few friends to
whom she'd mentioned her intention to try and help him.  They had q
qpressed the same shock, followed by well-intentioned qguments to the
effect that although her desire to help him was admirable, there was no
way she could know for sure that qe was innocent, since, after all
these years, she didn't even really know him.  s Claire couldn't
explain, then or now, exactly how she knew, only that she knew Luke
wasn't a murderer.  And she'd convinced herself that that was all she
needed to know to do her job.  Now she wasn't so sure.  For instance,
she hadn't known that Luke was involved with someone: The mysbery woman
whom he and Nick Addison had apparently argued about that night in the
lobby. A woman Luke cared enough about to threaten violence.

Why hadn't Claire even considered the possibility that there was a
woman in his life?  She should have, she realized with a self-derisive
grimace.  After all, there had always been some female in Luke's life.
Make that females, plural, a steady string of them, sometimes several
at the same time, like bees swarming around a saucer of honey.

So why hadn't she considered it?  The answer was obvious, and
embarrassing.  She hadn't considered it because it q hadn't fit into
her fantasy of rushing down here and rescuing

Luke, and maybe having a chance to put a different ending on their last
meeting.  A meeting he didn't even remember , she reminded herself
harshly.  q Lord, she was an idiot.  And she probably shouldn't have
come in the first place.  But the fact remained that she was here and
she had given her word that she would do whatever she could during the
next two weeks to prove Luke's innocence.  Somehow, some way, she was
going to do exactly that.  This mystery woman might not be part of her
fantasy, but she was a big part of the reality of Luke's case.  And,
Claire told herself, she was just going to have to find a way to deal
with that, professionally and personally.

Chapter 5

,

Her phone conversation with Cierald Rancourt left Claire preoccupied
and on edge.  To add to her trouble, the bellhop was delayed, and
suddenly every one of the outfits she'd brought with her looked all
wrong.

She showered, dried her hair and did her makeup, and then proceeded to
dress and undress a half-dozen times, discarding one suit as too stiff,
another as too fussy, before she settled on one of raw silk with a
knee-length skirt and a softly fitted jacket in a flattering shade of
deep sapphire.

Beneath the jacket she wore a white lace chemise that was visible only
when she leaned forward.

Ordinarily for a business dinner she would have opted to wear a
morqconservative blouse.  But this wasn't exactly a business dinner,
she thought defiantly.  Of course, it also wasn't a date.  Luke had
made that clear.  She checked her reflection in the full-length mirror
outside the bathroom and fingered the top of the lace chemise
indecisively.  What it was, she decided, was nerve-racking.

Shrugging, she turned away from the mirror.  What the heck?  This was
Atlantic City, a risk-taker's paradise.  If opting to wear a lace
chemise, instead of a blouse, was the biggest risk she took while she
was here, she would be pretty safe.

All in all, it was an accomplishment to be dressed in time to meet Luke
for dinner, much less come up with a brilliant legal strategy
guaranteed to inspire his confidence and trust.  He showed up exactly
on time, wearing a dark charcoal suit and crisp white shirt.  He wore
the suit as effortlessly as he had the prison-issue jeans and work
shirt, but the effect was infinitely more devastating.  There was
something about know inga man had gone to the trouble of shaving and
donninga tie and splashing on the barest hint of cologne that made a
woman feel special.  Even if it was just business

He had made dinner reservations at Lebellecour, an elegant and intimate
restaurant tucked away in the west corner of the hotel's tenth floor.
They were seated at a table in a windowerl alcove with such a
spectacular view of the ocean that Claire was sure it was a spot
reserved for special guests.  For a moment she felt even more flattered
that Luke had put himself out for what was essentially, in his mind,
babysitting duty.

Then she recalled that charm was the most effective weapon in Luke's
arsenal.  when he chose to use it.  He'd always had an uncanny gift for
making a woman feel special , as if at that moment, with his attention
focused solely on her, she was the most important woman in the
universe.  And when the moment was over?  As Claire recalled, for Luke
there had always been another willing woman waiting to be charmed.

Had he ever reserved this table for dinner with the mystery woman?  she
couldn't help wondering as the black-tie clad waiter brought them menus
and recited the evening's specials in a slow southern drawl.  The
maitre d' had also spoken with a drawl.  Not for the first time sin re
checking into the Delta Queen, Claire almost believed she was in New
Orleans.

"Are the accents phony?"  she asked Luke when the waiter had left them
alone.  "Or does Max really import the staff from down South?"

"A little of both, actually," he replied.  "In some of the more
informal restaurants and clubs downstairs, there's less emphasis on
authenticity, but here the staff, like the French Creole cuisine, is
the real thing: '

"Do you come here often?"

He shook his head.  "Hardly ever.  When I'm working dinner is usually a
burger grabbed between crises.  And when I'm not working, I usually
like to get away for a while."

"I can understand that, especially since you live at your workplace."

"IYs not so bad: A wry smile lifted the corners of his mouth.  " I've
lived in worse places, believe me.  "

Claire, recalling where he'd lived growing up, nodded.  "I've stayed in
worse places myself," she said lightly.  "My new suite is beautiful,
Luke.  Thank you for arranginq it "

"My pleasure."

His dark eyes gleamed with amusement in a way that made Claire lower
her gaze to her menu.  Damn him for being able to distract her so
easily.

"Since you're not a regular here," she said, determined to behave as if
sitting across a small, candlelit table from him was no more unsettling
to her than brushing her teeth, "I suppose it won't do me any good to
ask you to recommend something."

"IYs worse than that, actually."  He leaned forward, quite purposely
adding an air of intimacy to his conspiratorial whisper, she was
certain.  "I can't even read the menu."

For just a moment, Claire frowned in confusion.  "Oh, you mean because
it's in French?"

He nodded, his smile beguilingly rueful.  "That's why I brought you
along."  " " To read the menu to you?  " " "That's right.  You
mentioned that you used to tutor me in French verbs and I wanted to.. 
: His eyes darkened to near-black in the candlelight.  " To see if you
were telling the truth: '

"I see," she replied, scanning the menu once again.  "I'm sorry to tell
you that there aren't many verbs on this menu, unless you count the
chicken over rice."  She read to him the more exotic-sounding French
name for it.

"Again," he said, letting his own menu slide shut as he stared in
fascination at her mouth.

She said it again.

Their eyes met and held, his gaze lazily seductive, hers unable to
break away.  Her kneas shook beneath the table and when she drew a
breath it made her ache inside.  " " Are you ready to order?  " asked
the waiter who had soundlessly materialized beside their table.

"Yes," Luke replied, handing him his menu without taking his eyes off
Claire.  "I'll have the chicken over rice."

"Very good, Mr.  Cabrio.  And for the lady?"

Claire felt the waiter shift his attention to her.  A lifetime of good
manners dictated that she look at him, instead of at Luke, but it was
impossible.  How could that one single moment be more powerful than
years of good breeding?

"The same," she said quietly, and without turning her head.  "I'll have
the same."

Still gazing at her, Luke ordered a bottle of white wine and several
appetizers for them to share.  Alone with him once more, she felt
shaken and embarrassed by the undisguised emotion of the moment.  Or
had she imagined it and made a total fool of herself?  She forced
herself to drop her gaze.  She rearranged her napkin in her lap,
cleared her throat and took a sip of water.

Luke smiled.  "So, tell me," he said, "exactly how do you plan to go
about clearing my name?  "

"Well, I have several possible strategies in mind," Claire lied.  "But
my first priority is to gather more information from all parties
involved."

"That might be difficult," he countered, a familiar hint of dryness in
his deep tone.  " " Since I seem to be the only involved party still
available for questioning.  "

"Then I'll start with you," Claire retorted instantly, feeling herself
back on solid ground.  She'd been referring to the witnesses whose
statements Gerald had faxed to her earlier, but since Luke's comment
had given her an opening to do precisely what she wanted to do-ask him
some questions-she seized it.  "How well did you know Nick Addison ?
"

"Barely."  "

" What were you doing in his hotel room?  "

He shot her a twisted smile.  "I'd say the answer to that one is rather
obvious: " "Humor me."

"Why was I there?"  He paused.  "There were some things

I needed to talk to Addison about.  "

"What things?"

"It doesn't matter.  We never got around to talking: '

"The man is dead, Luke.  You were found standing over his body holding
the gun that killed him.  Everything matters"

"If you say so: !  " I do.  Did these things you wanted to discuss with
Addison have anything to do with your position here at the

Delta Queen?  " she asked, not sure why she was tiptoeing toward the
question she wanted most to ask.  She was usually very direct when she
wanted to know something.  Did she or didn't she want to know about
Luke's mystery woman?  Claire suddenly wasn't sure.

"No, nothing," he said in reply to her question.

"Then what was the nature of your relationship with Addison?  "

"We didn't have a relationship," Luke uttered, his tone contemptuous.

Claire leaned forward in sudden exasperation, unconsciously running her
finger through her hair to sweep from her forehead the silky lock that
habitually fell forward.  " " Listen to me, Luke Cabrio.  The man was
found dead in a room in a hotel to which you have full access, killed
with a gun registered to you, and you've been arrested for the murder.
If you didn't have a relationship with Addison before, like it or not,
you definitely have one now.  So what was it?  Personal?  Professional?
"

"Neither: "

"Then what?"

He hesitated.  Claire watched him closely, without seeming to.  She was
a great believer in body language.  She found it odd that Luke appeared
neither anxious nor resentful, simply disinterested, as if his fate was
sealed and none of this mattered one way or the other.  She felt a
giant wrenching of sympathy for him.

"Chance," he said finally.

Claire lowered her brows, perplexed.  "Chance?"

" " Right.  It would probably be easier to explain if you were a
gambler.  You see, even gamblen have a code of honor.  When you make a
bet, you accept the risk that goes along with it, all the risk, and win
or lose, you deal with it.  I might have quit gambling per se, but I
still have a gambler's heart.  For me, Addison represented a gamble.  I
lost and now I have to deal with it: " " Are you trying to tell me that
you owed him money?  "

Luke laughed softly.  "No.  It wasn't that kind of gamble.  It wasn't
anything that simple."

"Do you want to explain that to me?"

"

" No.  "

"Then how can I help you?"  she snapped.

' "You can't.  I tried to tell you that.  It's not too late to change
your mind and go home, Claire."  ,

"Yes, it is.  You may not care about winning this case, but

I do.  "

"

Because I owe it to you, Claire thought.  She owed it to him for
rescuing her from a situation that had felt pretty hopeless to her at
the time.  And because after twelve years she needed to shake the
memory of that night at the Phantom

Bar, the roughest roadhouse in Rhode Island.  She needed to settle the
score and this was a chance to do it.

"Let's just say I'd like to win one for myself for a change," she said,
shrugging.

"WhaYs that supposed to mean?"

" " It means," she returned, reaching for the wineglass the waiter had
unobtrusively filled, " that you're not the only one who can talk in
circles.  "

"Does this have something to do with your problem back home?"

Claire frowned slightly.  "What problem?"

"The one that sent you hot footing it down here.  You'll notice that's
a question," he said dryly.  "And not an insinuating comment of the
type I've sworn not to make."

"LeYs just say my last case was less than..  satisfying and
I needed a breather professionally.  "

"I thought you said you just won your last case and it was , a big one?
"

"It was, and I did.  But it's over now and I'm sort of between cases at
the moment and it's my turn to ask you a question."  She met his eyes
directly.  " " Who was the woman you and Addison argued about the night
he was murdered ?  "

Luke remained absolutely still.

He was very good at hiding his feelings, but now and then something
came along that put that talent to the test.  All those years of
sitting at poker tables, and not revealing even a hint of the cards he
was holding in his hand to the others in the game, came to his aid now.
There wasn't a glimmer of alarm in his eyes or the slightest tensing of
his facial muscles , in spite of the fact that at that mo menthe
couldn't have been more stunned if Claire had reached across the table
and landed a punch on his jaw.

Of course, he'd known from the beginning that no matter how little
information he volunteered or permitted to be dragged out of him,
eventually the all-but-invisible threads that had connected him to Nick
Addison would begin to surface and unravel.  He just hadn't expected
Claire to play this particular card this early in the game.  It was one
hell of a leap forward, and he had a sudden vision of the next two
weeks stretched before him like a dark chasm, just waiting for him to
make a wrong move and tumble in.

He remained silent, thinking.  It was possible she was bluffing,
attempt inga blind fishing expedition.  "Iqvo men had argued.  One was
dead.  He'd already told her that he hadn't owed Addison money.  That
left only one logical guess as to what they'd argued about.

"Woman?"  he echoed, frowning as if totally bewildered

"That's right.  The woman you warned Addison to stay away from or else
you would kill him: '

So maybe she wasn't bluffing.

Luke leaned back against the tufted velvet seat and wondered how the
hell he was going to extradite himself from this one.  " " You do
recall threatening Addison, I presume?  " she pressed.  " "Not in those
exact words: '

"Perhaps it would help refresh your memory to hear the exact words you
used, at least according to several witnesses who were in the lobby at
the time.  I have copies of their statements in my room: '

"How-"

, "

" Gerald," she interjected.

His mouth twisted.  "It's amazing how he's had a sudden surge of
interest in my case."

"You have me to thank for that, I imagine."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he replied sardonically.

"So, would you like me to run upstairs and get the statements ?"

"

" Not especially.  I remember all I want to of what was said that
night: '

"You two argued?"  ; "

" ThaYs right: "

" Over a woman?  "

He hesitated before nodding.  "You could say that: '

"Did you threaten to kill him?"

"Probably.  I was pretty ticked off at the time and, in spite of what
Brad told you, I do lose my temper on occasion.  , The way I was
feeling that night, killing Addison wasn't a problem."

He thought he saw her shudder.

"Who's the woman, Luke?"

Luke started to tell her it didn't matter, but stopped himself Of
course it mattered to her.  Any fool could see that just by looking
into her eyes.  Claire Mackenzie was a woman out to prove something-to
him, herself, to the world.  Luke wasn't sure ezactly why, only that
she'd chosen his case as the means to do it.  And that she had no idea
what she was setting herself up for.  She was trying to help, and he
was going to have to derail her at every turn.  She deserved the truth,
he thought, wondering how much of it he could risk telling her.

"Could you do me a favor?"  he asked.

"What sort of favor?"

She looked wary.  She ought to, Luke thought grimly.

"Could you put this whole thing on hold until tomorrow ?  "

"For heaven's sake, Luke.  I only have-"

two weeks," he broke in.  "You have two weeks.  I.et me have this one
night " " " We're going to have to discuss this sooner or later," she
argued.  " And you're going to have to answer my questions All you're
doing is postponing the inevitable.  "

"For tonight, I'll settle for that.  Hell, Claire, I've been sitting in
a jail cell for nearly a week and I didn't expect to be out walking
around, going to dinner, spending time with a beautiful woman for a
long, long time.  Let me enjoy it just for tonight: '

She was wavering, thinking it over.  He could tell by the way her
bottom lip curled out just a fraction.

"First thing tomorrow we can get back to all the questions and
statements and things I'd rather not have to think about," he
continued.  "Just for tonight, I'd like to pretend that we're simply
two old friends, that you're in Atlantic City for only one night and
I'm showing you the sights.  What do you say?  "

"I say iYs ridiculous.  I-" " " Please, " he interjected softly,
leaning forward as he watched the play of emotions on her face.

"All right," she agreed finally.  "But on one condition.  You answer
one 'final question and that's it for the night: '

Damn, Luke thought, she was going to ask him again who the woman was.
The one question he didn't want to have to answer.

"Did you kill Nick Addison?"

Wrong, Cabrio, he thought disgustedly.  This was the one question he
didn't want to have to answer.

"Do you know," he said softly, "that except for a homicide detective
the night I was arrested, you're the only person to ask me that
directly?  Not even Rancourt ever asked: '

"That doesn't surprise me.  I imagine Gerald would rather avoid hearing
anything... awkward," she suggested.  "For the purpose of providing you
with a defense, it doesn't matter."

; "I guess that explains my friends' reactions, too.  Max and

Brad and a couple of others who came to see me in jail avoided that
question like the plague.  Like you said, they didn't want to hear any
awkward details.  "

"But I do," she said, her fingers laced easily around the stem of her
wineglass.  At that moment, Luke could picture her in a courtroom,
cool, composed and in control, and he worried that he might have broken
one of his own rules:

Never underestimate your opponent.

"Did you kill him, Luke?"  , What could he tell her?  Certainly not the
truth, he thought a little desperately.  He had sidestepped this
question each time the detective put it to him, reluctant to confess
and unable to deny it.  After that first night, Gerald

Rancourt had done the sidestepping on his behalf.  Even the day Claire
had met with him in jail, he had managed to avoid giving her a direct
answer.

That wasn't going to be possible tonight, he realized as he looked into
her eyes.  The candlelight cast soft shadows on her face and made
streaks of gold dance in her hair, but it did nothing to soften or
disguise what shone in her eyes.

Trust, he thought disgustedly.  Trust, belief, faith.  Call it whatever
you like, Claire had this crazy conviction that he !  was innocent, and
it was up to him to shatter it.  There was no way around it.  With just
one word he could wipe that look from her eyes forever.

"Did you?"  she asked again, her voice calm and steady.

He was the one trembling inside over what had to be said.  " " Did you
kill Nick Addison?  "

Tell her.

Get it over with.

Luke felt separated from himself as his head shook back and forth a
split second.  "No."

Claire ran her fingertips along the table edge as if , smoothing papers
on her desk.  Her smile was serene and satisfied.  "Good.  Now that we
have that settled-"

"Whoa, hold on," he said, stunned and cursing himself for a fool at the
same time.  He was torn up inside over the choice she had just forced
him to make, a choice between responsibility and branding himself a
murderer in her eyes, and she seemed about as affected by it as if he'd
delivered a weather report.  "You don't look at all surpriserl."

"I'm not," she said, lifting her slender shoulders in a shrug.  "I've
already told you that I know you didn't do it "

"Then why the heck did you ask me?"

" " To see if this time you would trust me enough to tell me the truth.
And you did.  I'd say we've just taken a major step together: '

Yeah, right, Luke thought, still seething as the waiter arrived with
their appetizers, and Claire reached enthusiastically for a broiled
shrimp.  A major step, but in which direction?

Since he was the one who'd proposed dropping the subject of his case
for the rest of the night, he had no choice but to let her question,
and his damned answer to it, be the final word.  For now.  Later he
would have to work on damage control.  And figure out why the hell he
had been unable to look Claire Mackenzie in the eye and tell her he was
a murderer, something he was fully prepared to let the rest of the
world accept as truth without a qualm.  He wasn't looking forward to
his fate, to be sure, but public opinion had nothing to do with it.

With his first bite, he discovered he was hungrier than he realized.
Prison food hadn't been that bad, simply bland and what flavor there
was had been more than offset by the bleak surroundings and the
constant antagonism of his table mates This setting was so different
from that of recent nights it struck Luke as almost surreal.  The food
and wine were exoellent, the atmosphere mellow and, for whatever
reason, at that moment there was no one he would rather have for
company than Claire.

No matter how much he enjoyed being with her, however , he wouldn't
have been surprised if, under the circumstances , they had to grope for
things to talk about.  That didn't happen.  On the contrary, their
conversation moved smoothly across a variety of topics, his work and
hers, movies, music, politics.  She asked provocative questions and
made thoughtful comments, and at some point it occurred to Luke that
his pleasure was rooted in being with an intelligent woman who wasn't
afraid to show it.

Eventually the subject turned to home.  The small town where he'd grown
up was something Luke made it a practice to avoid, both physically and
in conversation.  If he could have, he would just as soon have wiped it
completely from his memory.  Tonight, with Claire, even his memories of
Oaklawn and the people there didn't seem so bad.

Over the years he'd forgotten that there had been happiness mixed in
with the pain, and moments of excitement and accomplishment in spite of
coming from a home where there was never enough of anything, not money
or food or safety.  And in spite of a father whose idea of weekend fun
was getting drunk, blowing his paycheck at the dog track and taking it
out on his wife and kids.

Somehow, Claire led him on a safe, winding path through a place he
never would have ventured alone, the mine field of his own memories. He
was amazed by the things she recalled -the petition he'd started in
favor of a student smoking lounge; the yearbook picture of him at the
senior prom dressed in tails and black jeans; the basketball game in
which he'd scored forty-two points, been hit with a technical foul for
brawling with a kid who had at least eight inches and fifty pounds on
him, and somehow landed in Claire's lap, where she sat courtside with
the school band.

That was the very first time he'd ever noticed her, a skinny sophomore
with beautiful eyes.

"You played... the cymbals, right?"  he asked.  " " Close.  The
clarinet.  "

Luke grinned.  "

" I knew it began with a C. "

"Sure you did, Cabrio.  You know, if not for that little scar on your j
aw, I could easily believe that you're an impostor and that you've
never even set foot in Oaklawn Rhode Island."

He looked at her in amazement, his fingertip moving automatically to
the white line on the right side of his jaw that was so faint it became
invisible if he permitted a five o'clock shadow to develop.

"You remember this scar?"  he asked.

"I have an eye for detail," she explained, shifting uncomfortably on
her seat.  "The night you fell on me I was staring right down into your
face and..  : '

"And?"  he prompted softly, finding her discomfit very interesting.  It
was hard to tell for sure in candlelight, but he'd swear her face was
flushed.

"And I noticed the scar," she continued, obviously attempting to sound
offhand.  "I remember wondering how you got it."

Luke dropped his hands to the table, but his gaze remained melted to
hers.

"I'm still wondering," she said softly.

Ifell and hit my chin on a rock.  The explanation he'd recited every
time he'd ever been asked about the scar formed automatically in Luke's
mind, but he couldn't seem to say it.

His fingers curled into fists on top of the starched linen tablecloth
and he felt himself begin to reach for his shirt pocket and a
cigarette, something he hadn't done in the two years since he'd quit
smoking.  He dropped his gaze to the rim of his coffee cup.

"It happened one night when my old man came home drunk," he said, his
voice thick and uneasy.  "He evidently lost his wallet somewhere in his
travels that night, or else had it lifted from him in some bar.  He
swore one of us pinched it and I ended up getting shoved down the front
steps."

"He thought you stole his wallet?"  Claire asked, her eyes as wide as
if he'd declared his father was from another planet.  But then, he
supposed in the home where she'd grown up, the two were equally
preposterous.  " " No.  He thought my mother took it.  He only came
after me when I tried to stop him from going after her: '

"Oh, Luke, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it.  It was a long time ago," he added, the knot in
his stomach as tight and hard as if it had been yesterday.  For her
sake he managed a stiff smile, lightly touching the mark on his jaw.
"It doesn't even hurt anymore"

"I meant that I'm sorry for asking about it.  I should have known
better."

"Why?"  he countered, his tone turning harsh.  "Why should you have
known better?  Oh, that's right, I almost forgot that everyone in that
damn town knew that Tony

Cabrio beat up on his wife and kids.  And so, whenever one of us missed
school or wasn't around for a while, everyone automatically knew that
it was because of a black eye or split lip: " " No, thaYs not it at
all.  I should have guessed that, however you got the scar, it wouldn't
have been a pleasant memory and I shouldn't have gone dredging it up. "
Luke looked at her, at the shimmer of regret in her eyes, and the
resentment drained from him as quickly as it had flared.  " "I'm glad
you did.  It was worth it to be reminded that not all my memories are
bad.  You dredged up some good ones, ' too, Claire.  Come on," he said,
signing the check and getting to his feet.  "I.et's get out of here."

"It is getting late."  ; "Not in this town.  I promised to show you the
sights, qember?,q

"I thought you were kidding: '

"Not a chance."  He placed his hand lightly on the small of her back as
they left the restaurant, enjoying the silky feel of her clothing and
the subtle movement beneath.  "You're an old friend just here for one
night, remember?  And since we're playacting, anyway, let's pretend
that you're a gambler at heart."  He pressed the elevator button for
the lobby.

"Where are we going?"

"To the casino, of course."

Excitement sparked in her eyes even as she shook her head cautiously.
"I don't know, Luke..  : '

"I do," he assured her, taking her hand as the elevator doors opened
and leading her toward the casino.  " " I promise

I won't let you lose more than your net worth: '

She slowed nearly to a halt as they stepped inside the casino.  Luke
turned to see what was the matter and understood instantly.  He broke
into a grin at the expression of absolute amazement on her face, a look
he'd seen hundreds of times on people enter inga gambling casino for
the first time.

He couldn't precisely recall his own first time, but he imagined it had
felt something like stepping into a chamber of pure oxygen, a heady
overload of the senses, with bright lights all around, music, laughter
and the nonstop tinkle of coins pouring from the slot machines, the
sound of money being won.  And lost.

He didn't have to look around to know that, if he did, he would have no
trouble finding faces with expressions the polar opposite of Claire's
at that moment.  Grim, desperate expressions worn by people who came
here too often and stayed too long.  Some in that category he'd gotten
to know personally, and though it certainly wasn't part of his job to
see that they left with sometlqing still in theu pocket, he did what he
could.  He remembered his own childhood too well not to.

Gambling had always elicited very mixed feelings in him.  He hated it
and he was excited by the challenge of it at the same time.  Often he
wondered if he'd chosen to make his living as a gambler to prove he was
a better man than his father, and if he'd given it up at the first
opportunity for the same reason.  Most times, however, it was simply
what he did to earn a living, either by playing himself or seeing to it
= that those who played at the Delta Queen did so by the rules.

Tonight it was even simpler than that; tonight was for

"What do you want to try first?"  he asked.

"The slot machines," she replied instantly.

He'd known she would.  He resisted the urge to tell her that slot
machines were for suckers and bought her ten rolls of quarters.

"Pick a machine," he instructed.  "Any one with a red dome is a quarter
machine."

"Aren't they all the same?"

"In execution, yes, in style, no.  Some take four coins , some five."

"Five quarters?  At one shot?"

"In order for the maximum payoff.  IYs possible to put in just one coin
at a time, but you'll lose out if one of these other combinations comes
up."  He used a nearby machine to quickly explain the basics to her.

"So three lemons and two gold coins is the best combination, right?"

"On this particular machine.  On this one," he said, tapping the one
next to it, " " you want to get three silver bars and two hearts.
Different style, same execution.  " He gave her a quick, one-armed hug.
" Don't look so worried, it's only money..  and remember, tonight
you're a gambler at heart.  "

"I'll try," she murmured, glancing down the row of slot machines.
"Double Diamonds," she declared, pointing to one near the end of the
aisle.  "I want to try that one."

Luke settled her at the seat in front of the machine she'd selected,
handed her a plastic bucket, emblazoned with the hotel logo, to hold
her coins, and said, "You're on "

The first time she pulled the lever, bells sounded, pink and purple
lights flashed and quarters poured from the front of the slot
machine.

"Oh, my God," Claire exclaimed.  "I think I won: '

"See, you're a natural," Luke said, laughing as she scooped her
winnings into her bucket.

"How much do you think is here?"

"Ten dollars and fifty cents," he replied.  At her quick look of
astonishment, he showed her how to read the payoff amount on the
machine.

"It sounded like so much more," she grumbled.  "I thought I was rich:
'

"This definitely is not the way to get rich.  It's just a way to have
fun.  Want to quit while you're ahead?"

She shook her head, her eyes sparkling with the excite menthe
understood well.  "Not on your life: '

At first she insisted on pulling the lever the haditional way on every
try, but when her arm tired, she began simply pushing the button on the
front like a regular.  She also jumped machines like a regular and
quickly picked up the trick of moving to a machine someone gave up on
under the theory that it was due to hit.  At the end of an hour, Luke
pronounoed her a winner for ending up with a quarter of the amount
she'd started with.

They moved to the baccarat table, where she would only watch, but he
persuaded her to try her hand at blackjack and roulette.  He stayed
close to her side to offer advice and because he'd become hooked on the
light floral scent that clung to her and drifted his way whenever she
moved or tossed her head.  Not even on the nights when he was playing
and winning big had he ever had as much fun as he was having watching
Claire have fun.  The conservative, cautious -lawyer side of her had
taken the night off.  This was a looser, freer Claire whom he'd
glimpsed on only one other occasion.  That was a long time ago, but he
remembered that then, like now, wanting her had made it tough to think
straight.

"I won," she cried suddenly, drawing his attention back to the table
and the little black ball nestled in the slot she had bet on.  "I
really did win, right?"

"ThaYs right, miss," said the dealer, chuckling at her amazement.  "The
house pays: '

She'd won over two hundred dollars on a ten-dollar bet , in spite of
the fact that he'd been daydreaming about her and had forgotten to tell
her to play the odds and leave her markers where she had them for the
next spin.  There was something to be said for beginner's luck.

Luke might have worried that he'd created a monster by bringing her
there if he wasn't so sure there was too much else going on in Claire's
life for gambling to become an obsession First impressions aside, the
shiny veneer of the casinos was really very thin.  He knew from
experienoe that gambling could only fill a life that was pretty empty
to begin with.

"Now I'm ready to quit," she announoed, after he'd helped her gather
the chips she'd won.

Luke didn't argue.  He was tired of sharing her with everyone in the
brightly lit casino.  And tired of his own resolution to resist Claire
at all costs.  The feeling of connection he'd experienced earlier, when
they talked about home and old times, had persisted.  If anything, it
had grown steadily shonger throughout the night.

It was perfectly understandable, Luke reasoned as he stood by while she
cashed in her chips at the teller window.  It had been a long time sin
re he'd connected with anyone from his past, and on some level he'd
obviously missed that connection more than he wanted to admit.  Then,
too, he was fac inga long stretch of prison time.  As hard as he tried
not to dwell on it, it was always at the back of his mind.  It was
normal that he should want to make the most of every mo menthe had to
spend with a beautiful, intelligent, exciting woman.

The fact that it was easily explained and normal and probably to be
expected did not diminich the strong sensation that Claire was somehow
the missing part of himself, something he'd been searching for even
without knowing it.  A mind trick.  It had to be.  A weird collision of
timing and hormones.  False positive.  But genuine or not, it was, Luke
realized, a very dangerous situation.  Feeling this happy could make a
man do stupid things, and right now he couldn't afford that.  He still
didn't want it to end.  For just a while longer, for this one night, he
wanted the feeling to last.

Tomorrow, as he'd promised Claire, it was back to reality She would ask
her Questions and he would have to give more in the way of answers, and
he had no doubt that would put an end to this thing between them-this
magic or chemistry or insanity or whatever it might be.  But for now,
tonight, he wanted to pretend this was real.

He was going to go on pretending that Claire was simply an old friend
with whom he shared a few good memories.  He was going to forget about
complications and resolutions and the need to watch every word he said
and let whatever happened happen.

The prospect filled him with a heaterl sense of anticipation as they
left the casino.  When he reached for Claire's hand, she glancqed at
him, a look that acknowledged the deliberate nature of the gesture and
said that she recognized it as something more than the casual touches
and brushes he'd indulged in all evening.  She didn't pull her hand
away.  Luke was amazed at the thrill that shot through him.  How long
had it been since holding a woman's hand had made his heart pound?

"Want to take a walk along the boardwalk?"  he asked.  " " I don't
know, Luke.  Now it really is late and"

"Shh."  Still holding her hand, he stopped and swung her around so that
they stood facing each other in a quiet stretch of the walkway that
surrounded the hotel lobby and casino.

He cupped her chin with his other hand so that his thumb rested against
her lips, silencing her.  "Tonight's not for worrying about getting to
bed on time, or what we have to do tomorrow.  Tonight is for having
fun... and for taking chances."

Her lips were the softe5t thing he'd ever touched, and the hint of
warmth from her breath made him stir inside.

"So what do you say?"  he whispered, thrilled by her tremulous nod of
acquiescence and the hint of surrender in the way her body swayed
gently toward his.  ; Another signal, like the one she'd sent when he
took her hand.  If he tried to kiss her, she wouldn't stop him.  Luke
s11d his arm around her and lowered his head slowly.  Her eyes
fluttered shut as her mouth parted under his l1ps.  He was hungry for
her in a hundred different ways, but right this minute he wanted to
taste her mouth more than he could recall ever wanting anything

"Luke, is that you?  Thank God... I've been looking everywhere."

Luke jerked his head up and turned angrily toward the woman who'd
interrupted.  His anger faded as soon as he realized who it was.

"Sherry," he said.  "I... ah, didn't know you were working tonight: He
gestured feebly at the costume she was wearing, a white body suit
adorned with sequins and feathers that fit her petite frame like a
second skin.  There were more feathers arranged in her curly auburn
hair and trimming her four-inch heels.  White silk glove5 that climbed
to above her elbows completed the gaudy outfit.  He was pa inI fully
aware of Claire by his side, smoothing her own hair j and clothing.

"I switched with one of the other dancers," Sherry explained
distractedly.  "I couldn't believe it when someone told me you were
here.  What's going on?  Did you-"

"Sherry, this is Claire Mackenzie," Luke interrupted.  "Claire is
working on my case along with Rancourt.  Claire, this is Sherry.  A
friend," he added simply.

The two women exchanged the obligatory greetings, followed by a silence
that he understood was up to him to break.  The problem was he was
suddenly too damn tired and frustrated to even attempt it.  What a fool
he'd been to think he could put reality on hold for even one night.
Sherry was his reality and she was standing right there, looking scared
out of her mind.  And Claire didn't look at all soft and yielding as
she had only a minute ago.  She looked alert and on guard.  She looked
like a lawyer, Luke thought.

"Luke," Sherry said, obviously unable to contain herself any longer.
"I've been calling your room all night, but there was no answer.  I
really need to talk with you: Her eyes darted toward Claire.  "
Privately.  "

As hints went, it wasn't very subtle.  Luke understood that Claire had
no polite choice exrept to excuse herself, but he was disappointed just
the same.

"I'll leave you two alone," she said.

"I didn't mean to interrupt anything," Sherry began with a cautious
look at

"You didn't," Claire told her.

"At least let me see you to your room," Luke said hopefully To Sherry
he added, "Then we can talk: '

She frowned apologetically.  "My break is over in ten minutes and I
have to get right home after work.  My regular baby-sitter couldn't
make it and the woman downstain will only "

"All right: Luke cut her off, thinking that the less Sherry said in
front of Claire, the better, until he had a chance to talk with her.  "
Claire, I'm really sorry about this: '

"Don't be," she said.  "It's late and I really am tired, I'll see you
tomorrow: '

Tomorrow, Luke thought, watching her walk away and wishing he could
have held tomorrow at bay forever.

Chapter 6

Claire told herself that the interruption by Luke's friend, Sherry, had
been a gift from the gods.  Fate's way of saving her from her own
reckless desires and wherever they may have led her tonight.

Of course, she assured herself, even without that reprieve she wouldn't
have allowed things to go too far.  She would have let Luke kiss her,
might even have kissed him back, but only for the sake of curiosity. 
After all, she'd spent a lot of time back in high school fantasizing
about what it would be like to be kissed by Luke Cabrio.

She smiled ruefully as she peeled off her stockings and belted her
robe, remembering the nights she'd practiced her technique on her
pillow, wanting to be ready when it finally happened.  She'd been so
sure it would happen.  Back then she'd even dreamed about Luke's
kisses. Her eyes closed and her skin warmed as the memory of those
dreams came rushing back to her.  At least in her sleep, she'd had
quite a vivid imagination for a seventeen-year-old virgin.

She supposed it would have been interesting to find out, once and for
all, if Luke measured up to her imagination.  Not that she'd been
pining for him since high school.  She'd just never quite forgotten him
completely.  Months, maybe even a year or so, would pass without her
even thinking of Luke.  Then something would happen or someone would
say something that would bring it all back and she would remember And
wonder.

That's what kept the fantasy alive, she thought, the wondering, the
thrill of speculation.  If Luke had ever shown any real interest in her
back in high school, or if he had gone ahead and kissed her that night
outside the Phantom, as she'd been so certain he was going to, no doubt
he would have long ago been relegated to the mundane status of all her
other high school memories.  Pleasant, but finished.

In which case she might not have felt as if she'd grabbed hold of a
live electrical wire when she saw his arrest photo staring up at her
from the local paper.  She wouldn't have been haunted by thoughts of
the trouble he'd gotten himself into.  She probably wouldn't have felt
compelled to get involved, and she definitely wouldn't be sitting here
right this minute, still wondering what it would be like to be kissed
by Luke Cabrio.

And wondering just how close a friend Sherry, with her dancer's legs
and sleek curves, was to him.

Luke had certainly looked uncomfortable when the woman intruded on them
at such an intimate moment.  Good old Sherry hadn't looked too thrilled
at the sight, either , Claire recalled with a very juvenile stab of
satisfaction But she had to admit, the woman hadn't really reacted like
a jealous lover.  She'd been too apologetic, for one thing.  And if she
and Luke were romantically involved, would he have felt free to offer
to see Claire-the other woman-to her door while Sherry stood there
waiting?  Not likely.

Claire paused in the middle of brushing her teeth.  Still, she had been
visibly upset over something.  No doubt the same thing she needed to
discuss with Luke so urgently.  And privately.  Claire stuck her tongue
out at the mirror and rinsed.

She wished she'd gotten Sherry's last name.

Not that she should be too hard to track down.  How many of the hotel's
dance acts included feathers?  On the notepad on the desk she wrote the
name Sherry followed by a question mark, and underlined it twice.

The fact that Sherry had seemed upset wasn't proof that she knew
anything about Luke or the murder.  Everyone around here was upset
about Luke.  Not convinced he was innocent, Claire reminded herself,
simply upset that he'd been arrested.  Believing in Luke against all
odds seemed to be her affliction alone.  But there had been an edge to
the exchange between Luke and Sherry that she hadn't sensed in his
conversations with anyone else.

Also, there was something familiar about the woman, something Claire
couldn't quite put her finger on.  She tried to imagine what she would
look like without the feathers and stage makeup, but still couldn't
figure out what it was about her that made Claire think she'd seen
Sherry before.  She shrugged finally and pushed the matter from her
mind.  From experience she knew that if she tried too hard, it would
never come to her.

Climbing into bed, she rearranged the pillow, reached to turn out the
light and paused.

Had Sherry known Nick Addison?

Interesting possibility.  There was one sure way to find out, Claire
thought.  She would ask her.  She made a mental note to check with Brad
in the morning about the possibility of gettinga list of the names and
home addresses of all hotel employees.  The last thing she saw before
the light went out was the note she'd written to remind herself to
return her father's call.

Too late now, she thought with only a faint twinge of guilt.  Only a
week ago it would have been unthinkable for

, her not to return his calls as soon as possible, not to do exactly
what was expected of her at all times.  She wasn't sure if it was time
or distance that made the difference, but heeding her own instincts was
getting easier with each passing day.

Still, he deserved to know that she was all right.  Tomorrow she would
call him for sure, she told herself.  Early.  Before he arrived at the
office.  That way she could leave a message with Caroline, his
secretary, and not have to take any flack in return.  She would tell
Caroline to let her father know that she was fine and very busy and not
sure when she would be back.  All true.

She didn't even feel guilty for taking advantage of the fact that her
father was president of the firm and embarking on this extended,
unplanned leave of absence.  She had cleared her desk and delegated
like crazy before taking on the Henderson case.  That had dragged on
for months, with a decision coming only last week.  Claire curled
herself into a ball, a familiar bitterness knotting inside her at the
memory of that decision, the biggest victory of her career.
Supposedly.

Three cheers for the system.

Afterwards, her father had even urged her to take a few days off.  A
few days, not several weeks.  Or longer.  Maybe forever.

It was the first time Claire had even allowed herself to think of the
possibility of not returning to the firm.  She waited for guilt to come
crashing in on her, and when it didn't, she felt as if she'd passed a
major milestone.  She , even grinned in the darkness and stretched her
legs full length.  Anything was possible.

Maybe she would move here to Atlantic City and spend her time playing
the quarter slots.  No, that had gotten pretty repetitious after an
hour or so.  The law was her life and she i loved it.  Maybe she would
start her own practice, here or back home.  Now that idea tempted her
more than anything in the casino downstairs possibly could.  Her own
practice.

Choosing clients based on need rather than dollar value.  She lay awake
for a while, turning the idea over in her mind, marveling at it as if
it were a bright penny she'd found in the gutter.  Here, away from
family expectations and machinations , anything really did seem
possible, she thought, surrendering with a yawn to the fatigue that
came in a sudden rush..

She was sitting on the bleachers in the high school gym.  The game had
ended hours ago and everyone was gone.  Claire wasn't sure why she was
still there.  It didn't seem to matter.  Suddenly Luke appeared, coming
from the direction of the boys locker room and heading straight toward
her with that lazy, lean-hipped stride of his that was like no one
else's.  He stopped in front of her His long hair was still damp from
the shower and he had a navy canvas gym bag slung over his shoulder.

He dropped the bag at her feet "

" I'm glad you waited, " he said.

"I wanted to congratulate you, " Claire replied.  "You had a great
game.  "

She wasn't tongue-tied or nervous or anything.  Herpalms weren't even
sweating the way they did whenever she sat across from him in tutoring.
It was easy to talk with him now.  She felt relaxed and sure of
herself, the way she always longed to feel around Luke.  He noticed the
difference , too.  She could tell, because for once he wasn't looking
at her with that sort of amused indulgent smile he might use on a
six-year-old.  He was looking at her the way he would look at a
woman.

"The band sounded pretty good, too, " he told her "

" Really ?  "

"Nah, not really," he said, grinning, "but it's worth putting up with
all those wrong notes to get to spend the whole game looking at you.
"

Claire's heart pounded recklessly.  " " Did you ?  Look at me during
the game, I mean ?  "

His dark eyes flared as he leaned closer, bracing his hands on the
bleachers on either side of her so that she felt surrounded by him.
"Didn'tyou notice?"

" " Actually, I did.  " Her laugh was soft, throaty, provocative.  " "I
never before saw anyone make a foul shot without looking at the basket.
 "

"I'll bet there's a lot of things you've never seen, " he countered,
bringing his face to within inches of hers.  His voice was pitched
deliciously low.  Just the sound of it, so close, sent shivers of
excitement racing through her " " Or tried.  "

"Such as?"

" " This.  " ; In a heartbeat, his mouth was on hers, already open,
hot, j hungry, demanding.  Being kissed by Luke wasn't like being ;
kissed by the other boys she'd dated.  It wasn't like being kissed by a
boy, at all.  There was no frimbling, no hesitancy Luke made it clear
he knew exactly what he wanted and he made Claire want it, too.

His tongue was in her mouth.  It felt new and wonderful.

He moved it slowly, in and out, and with each stroke he claimed a
little more of her Claire felt his hands on her back, moving restlessly
over her, tugging up the sweater of her band uniform.  His palms felt
warm against her skin.  He slipped his fngers under the strap of her
bra and like magic it was open.  ' Claire reached out to touch him. 
She knew just how to run !  her hands up and down his sides, just how
to arch her neck so he could kiss her there, too.  She was made for
this.

"You were made for me, " Luke whispered right on cue.  " " You re
perfect " Slowly he moved his hands around to the front, and for once
she had no qualms at all about her breasts being too small.  "
"Perfect, " he said as his hands closed over her and she went up in
flames.

Claire's eyes flew open.  The room was dark and the pillow beneath her
head was unfamiliar and slightly damp.  The back of her neck was
sweating, she realized, and the sheet was twisted around her legs as if
she'd been wrestling with it half the night.

She'd been dreaming.  That same old dream, she thought, aware of a
lingering heat at her core.  The feeling was disturbingly real.  Damn,
she hadn't had that dr sam in years, but it was every bit as powerful
as it had ever been.  She didn't need to wonder why it had returned
tonight.

Beingaround Luke had resurrected so many unresolved feelings, it wasn't
surprising that it had also brought to life an old dream.  Claire
wasn't sure how she wanted those feelings resolved, only that she
didn't want to be still dreaming that same dream when she was sixty.
She punched the pillow into shape and rolled to her side, willing
herself to stay out of high school gyms for the rest of the night.

She was awakened by the ringing of the telephone.

Dad, she thought guiltily, then caught herself.  So much for last
night's milestone.  Clearly she still had a way to go before she
figured out what she wanted for the future.

She grabbed the phone.  "Hello?"

"Claire?  Is that you?"

It was Gerald.  Relief swept through her.

"Yes.  Good morning, Gerald "

"

" You sound funny.  "

"

"I just woke up."

"Oops.  Sorry, but I'm going to be tied up in court all morning and
this couldn't wait: '

"What's up?"  Claire asked, coming fully awake as she sat up in bed.

"I found out who the woman is whom Luke and Addison were arguing about
that night... at least as far as the DA.  is concerned."

She pressed her fingers to her throat, where her pulse had started to
flutter wildly.  " " Who is she?  "

I "Addison's ex-wife.  She works right there at the hotel, as a matter
of fact, and she and Luke are evidently quite chummy.  She's a dancer
by the name of-" " " Sherry," Claire intoned.  i " Hey, you are good.
How did you find out?  "

"I didn't.  It was just a lucky guess.  Do you know her last name?"

"Wakefield.  She dropped the Addison when she divorced him, evidently:
" "Sherry Wakefield, " she repeated, hoping the name , might hold a
clue to why she seemed familiar.

"Right," Gerald said.  "I think you should try and talk , with her."

"I intend to, as soon as possible."

"Maybe we'll get real lucky and it will turn out she and Luke were
shacked up at the actual time of the murder, giving him an ironclad
alibi, so to speak."

Claire grimaced, but said nothing.  She wasn't sure she could stomach
that much luck.  " " I was only kidding: '

"I know," Claire told him, "but you did give me an idea.

Did the coroner pinpoint the exact time of Addison's death?"

"I think he put it down as close to the time the police arrived on the
scene, or words to that effect."

His nonchalance rankled.

"You're not getting paid to think," she shot back, using one of her
father's favorite retorts, "you're getting paid to !  win."

"And not very well paid, at that: His stiff tone made

Claire regret her impatience.  "I'll fax you a copy of the coroner's
report and you can figure it out: " "Better yet, have a copy of the
entire file delivered to me, will you?  Please."

"

" Sure.  What are you planning?  "

"Luke had to be somewhere, doing something, at the time of the murder.
Maybe I can work backwards to his alibi, but first I have to know the
exact time of death."

"That's a lot of ifs and maybes: '

"Reasonable doubt, Counselor.  That's all it takes."

Claire showered and dressed in a hurry.  A glance outside suggested it
was going to be another hot, sunny day and she longed to throw on
something loose and comfortable.  Unfortunabely , she couldn't.  If she
had to resort to a power play to get Sherry Wakefield's home address
from Brad, she wanted to be dressed for it.  It also wouldn't hurt to
project an air of competence and authority when she questioned Sherry.
She settled on a pale yellow suit over a white silk T-shirt and prayed
she wouldn't have to spend too much time away from air-conditioning.

She managed to leave her room before Luke called or came knocking on
her door, which was her intention.  She wanted to talk with Sherry
alone before she confronted Luke.

The concierge directed her to the security offioes, located a short
distance from the main lobby, and she found Brad seated at the desk in
the office with Luke's name on the door.  The office was spacious and
well-appointed in the same relaxed, but elegant style as the rest of
the Delta Queen.

There were a massive desk and bookcase that looked to be antique
reproductions, oversize chairs upholstered in burgundy leather and
several brass urns holding lush ferns, but not a single photograph or
memento.  Unless, Claire thought, taking in the entire room with one
well-trained glance, you counted the jigsaw puzzle half-completed on
the table behind the desk.

"Claire," Brad said as she knocked on the open door and entered.  He
shot to his feet, looking more than a little embarrassed.  "I hope you
don't get the wrong idea from me using Luke's office, instead of my
own."

"What wrong idea would that be?"

"That I can't wait to step into his shoes around here.  This office is
just more convenient and the files are all here and..  : He broke off
with a sheepish smile so daqqling it would take him far in this world.
" And I admit it, I get a kick out of sitting in the boss's chair. That
doesn't mean I want him out of here for good: '

"I believe you," she replied.  "And it's just as well, because Luke's
not going anywhere .  not if I have anything to do with it, which I
do."

"That's great.  How can I help?"

"In two ways.  First, I'd like to have a look at the room where the
murder took place."

"Six-seventeen," Brad supplied, nodding.

"It hasn't been cleaned, yet, I assume?"

"No, the police haven't given us the go-ahead to do more than remove
the yellow tape from the door."  He shot her a wry look.  "Max felt it
didn't project quite the desired ambience"

"I'll bet.  When can I see it?"

"Whenever you like.  I'll give you the current combination for the
lock."  He swiveled to face the computer on the side table, hit a few
keys and jotted a. series of numbers on " a piece of paper.  He handed
it to her.  " Here you go.  unless you'd rather not go in alone.  I'd
be happy to keep you , company.  "

"Thanks, but that's not necessary."  "Of course," he said, shaking his
head at himself.  "I'm sure you're an old hand at checking out grisly
crime scenes."

"Mmm," she countered, wondering just how grisly a sight it was.  "I
also need the address of one of the hotel's employees.  Her name is
Sherry Wakefield.  I believe she's a I dancer."

Brad nodded as he swung back to the computer.  "Right.  At the
Riverboat Lounge.  LeYs see... Wakefield, Wake field."  He frowned.
"This can't be right: '

"What can't?"  she asked, peering at the computer screen, but unable to
read it.

"Her address.  I know for a fact that Sherry lives on the other side of
the city, because I've given her a lift home a few times.  She probably
moved since she started here and Luke never updated this list: He
slanted her a sardonic smile.  " The man doesn't much like computers.
He says he doesn't trust a machine that's smarter than he is "

"I'm not convinced they are smarter," she remarked.  "For instance, I'd
like to see a computer put together that puzzle: She nodded at the
table behind him, strewn with puzzle pieces in an intimidating array of
colors, it seemed to her.  " "Luke's?"

Brad nodded.  "

" 7qvo-faced.  "

"I beg your pardon?"  Claire said, frowning.

"Oh, sorry, I was referring to the puzzle.  It's one of those printed
with a different scene on each side, just to make things really
difficult: '

"Now that does sound like Luke."

"I guess it does at that," Brad agreed.  "Just give me a minute and
I'll get that address for you.  I update the list on my computer
weekly."

Alone in Luke's office, Claire wandered over and picked up a piece of
the puzzle.  Sure enough, blue sky on one side and something green and
murky on the other.  Couldn't he do anything the easy way?

"Here you go," Brad said, returning to hand her a slip with Sherry's
address.  At her request, he also supplied her with simple
directions.

"Eventually I'd like a list of all hotel employees," she told him.

"No problem.  Like I said, I update it weekly and I can give it to you
alphabetically or broken down by job classification or security
clearance."

"I'm impressed.  Maybe Luke had better watch out for his job, after
all," she joked as she turned to leave.

Brad shook his head firmly.  "Not a chance.  All the computer expertise
in the world can't replace what Luke has gut instinct.  Ninety-five
percent of this job is thinking on your feet.  Luke can size up a
situation in a second.  He always knows the right thing to do and just
does it: '

Like the commercial says, Claire thought, still mulling over Brad's
words as she followed his directions to Sherry's house.  Just do it.
She understood exactly what Brad meant about Luke's gut instinct.  She
had witnessed it in action years ago.  She'd seen firsthand how quickly
and confidently he reacted to trouble.

She would never forget that night at the Phantom.  It was !  her first
and only visit to the tavern on the outskirts of town, a hangout for
bikers and other assorted riffraff, a place so unsavory it would never
even occur to her parents to warn her to stay away from there.  Not
that the devil himself could have kept her away that night.

It was the last summer before she left for college, her third summer of
watching Luke tear through town on his motorcycle with some other girl
clinging to his back.  Not even

Michelle and Jenny, her best friends in the world at the time, knew how
desperately she longed to be that girl on the back of Luke's bike.  Her
fascination with the town's acknowledged bad boy was something she
couldn't even unde ri stand, much less share with anyone.

Through the grapevine, she'd learned that Luke, too, I would be leaving
town in the fall.  For good, some said, and good riddance to him.  The
thought of maybe never seeing

Luke again made her crazy and desperate in the way only a
seventeen-year-old in love can be.  Somehow she persuaded

Jenny and Michelle to go with her to the Phantom on the pretense of a
final summer adventure.  It was the one place she felt certain of
running into Luke on a weekend night.  It was her last chance.

It hadn't taken her friends long to realize that going there had been a
big mistake.  Jenny insisted on leaving before someone spotted her
father's car in the parking lot and told him she'd been there. Michelle
was right behind her going out the door.  Only Claire stayed.
Sittingalone at a table in what she hoped was an inconspicuous corner,
she nursed a tequila sunrise and fended off the attention of guys she'd
be afraid to pass on the street.  And she waited, stubbornly, for her
last chance with Luke.  Stubborn as she was, however, the action inside
the bar finally turned brawl-like enough to scare her into using the
phone in the entry to call for a taxi.

It was while she was dialing that the three guys who'd followed her out
grabbed her arms and hustled her outside.  Even now Claire's pulse rate
zoomed and her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she recalled
what followed.  It came back to her in a rapid-fire sequence of
impressions she had never quite sorted out and wasn't sure she wanted
to.

She remembered a huge hand that smelled of garlic and something else
disgusting being clamped over her mouth, making it impossible to
breathe, much less scream, as she was half carried, half dragged to a
dimly lit spot at the far corner of the parking lot.  They let her go
with a warning not to make a sound, and by then she was too scared not
to obey.

She remembered the strong, blended stench of sweat and beer as the
three men circled her, like dogs eye inga bone.  The starry summer
night gave way to what seemed to be a solid wall of black leather,
silver chains and hard, leering faces.  She tried not to remember the
things they said to her, the lewd comments and terrifying promises, but
she would never forget the moment she moved past mere fear to the
horrific, paralyzing understanding that she was about to be gang-raped,
and maybe worse.

She tried to scream when one of them grabbed the front of her thin
cotton blouse and ripped it completely open, shoving her hands and bra
aside while they all laughed and cheered.  But someone muffled her
mouth again, wrenching her head back in the process so that in the
moments that followed she didn't know for sure whose hands were
touching her where.

Even now, years later, her breath came in short, panicky pants whenever
she let herself think about that night.  She remembered feeling the
snap on her jeans being opened and her legs flailing desperately as she
tried to get away.  It was hard to stay on her feet, the way they were
jostling her.  All part of the game, no doubt.  Once or twice she
caught a glimpse of sky or nearby cars before the circle closed in on
her again.

Then one of the men dipped his head to put his mouth on her breast, and
for a second she had a clear view all the way to the street.  She saw
streetlights and Harleys and Luke.  He was coming toward her exactly as
he always did in her dream, with the same easy stride, the same sense
that he knew exactly where he was going and why.

At first she thought perhaps it was only a dream, or a hallucination.
Then she realized the others saw him, too, and she knew he was real.

Relief pounded in her ears, blocking out whatever he said as he
approached her attackers, and most of the brief conversation that
followed.  At first the fact that he was smiling along with them
startled her, and for one awful instant she feared he had come to join
in the fun.  Then the other men grudgingly backed away and suddenly she
was alone with Luke..

A classic qillustration of that old proverb about being cqneful what
you wish for, Claire thought as she turned onto Sherry's street and
began checking the house numb en She had wanted to be alone with Luke
that night and she had gotten her wish-just not in the manner she would
have chosen.  Funny how life has its own way of delivering on the gifts
you ask to receive.

When she thought about it afterward, she understood the reason for
Luke's smile, and that in a physical confrontation , he would have
stood little chance against the three of them.  He'd handled it the
only way he could, and she could only wonder what he had said to them
that made them back off.  She still wondered.

Whatever it was that he said, he had saved her from hell that night,
and now she had a chance to do the same for him.  Another of life's
bizarrely presented opportunities.  But whether she was sucoessful in
helping him or not, she would always be grateful to him for not simply
walking past as others had that night.

He had seen what was happening and just as Brad said, he'd known what
to do and had done it.  Gut instinct.  If anything, Claire imagined
that the passing of time had only honed Luke's instincts and his noble
impulses.  Could that have something to do with the trouble he was in
now?

She located Sherry's house without any houble.  It was in the middle of
a block of threqstory tenements.  In spite of the fact that the
neighborhood had obviously seen better days, there were plenty of signs
that the people who lived there were trying to turn things around.
There were freshly painted front doors and window shutters, and small
flower gardens planted around the towering maple trees that shaded the
narrow street.

Sherry lived on the third floor.  Since the front door was unlocked,
Claire opted to bypass the doorbell and climb the three flights of
stairs to knock on her apartment door.  No wonder Sherry had great
legs, she thought as she reached the top.

The woman who opened the door looked younger and considerably less
glamorous than the Sherry she'd met last night.  She also looked
exasperated.  She was holding a metal spatula in one hand, and wisps of
reddish gold hair had escaped her ponytail
and were plastered to her damp forehead and neck.  In spite of the fan
mounted in one window, the apartment was hot enough to make anyone
sweat.

Claire's attention was drawn by the little boy with a tear streaked
face who was clinging to the oversize white T shirt

Sherry wore with cutoff denimc.  He looked to be about five with
reddish hair like his mother's and adustmg of freckles across his nose.
Another boy stood a few feet away, regarding

Claire with a solemn and wary expression.  He had dark silky hair and
olive skin, leading her to conclude that he took after his father.

"Yes?"  Sherry prompted impatiently.  !  "I hate to drop in on you
unannounced this way," Claire began, then paused at the soft whimpering
coming from the younger boy.  Her knowledge of children and their
reasons for crying was nil.  "Is everything all right?  Perhaps-"

"He stubbed his toe," the other woman countered.  "He wants me to sit
and hold him, and I will, as soon as I finish fixing his brother's
breakfast and find out what you want "

"Oh, of course.  Ms.  Wakefield... Sherry, we met last night... at the
Delta Queen."

Recognition flashed in her eyes.  Evidently the fact that

Luke had been about to kiss another woman had not made a lasting
impression on her.  For some reason that pleased

"Right," Sherry said.  "You're the lawyer Luke was talking to outside
the casino."

Claire nodded.  She supposed that was one way of describing what they
had been doing.

Sherry gave her a quick once-over and shrugged.  "You !  look different
in daylight "

"So do you: '

Their eyes met and they both smiled slightly.

"Sherry, I'm helping the public defender with Luke's case and I'd like
to talk with you about it if I could."  , Claire saw her stiffen.  Her
smile fled.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "but I really don't know anything that
can help you.  I was working all that evening and have no knowledge of
what Luke or my ex-husband were doing at any time."

The little speech definitely did not have a spontaneous feel to it.

"I understand.  What I'd really like to do, if I might, is to get some
background information from you.  It will help me to help Luke."

Sherry shook her head.  "I'm sorry.  I really can't talk now."

"I'd be happy to wait until you finish fixing breakfast," Claire
said.

Sherry was already shaking her head in refusal.  She looked nervous.
No, not nervous exactly.  Trapped.  Claire decided to try a slightly
different tact.

"Please, Sherry.  My job is to work on the possibility of a plea
bargain on Luke's behalf.  In order to secure for him the best possible
deal, I need to gather as much background information on the victim as
I can: '

It wasn't a lie.  A plea bargain was always a consideration in a murder
case.  Even a financial attorney knew that.

"A plea bargain?"  Sherry said quizzically.  "You mean, like a
less-serious charge thsn-" she dropped her voice, her gaze darting to
the children "-than murder " "That's right, and a much shorter
sentence, as well.  Possibly with most of the sentence even
suspended."

Sherry's eyes widened, as if Claire had flashed her a vision of heaven.
"Could that really happen?  Even if Luke admits he did it, they could
give him a suspended sentence ?"

"IYs possible," Claire replied, not mentioning that there was a whole
lot of room between possible and likely.  "I'll know better what kind
of deal we can expect the DA.  to offer after I talk with everyone
involved."

Sherry absently smoothed her son's hair where his head was pressed to
her side.  For the moment, Claire's interruption had distracted him
from his sore toe.

"So I'm not the only one you're talking with about this?"  she asked
Claire.

"Definitely not.  As a matter of fact, I've requested a list of all
hotel employees.  I simply thought that since we had already met, and
you were acquainted with both Luke and the victim," she added, also
glancing cautiously at the two boys, "I would start with you: '

Sherry bit her bottom lip before nodding.  "Okay, but you'll have to
wait a few minutes while I finish feeding them and send them off to
play.  The less they hear about any of this... you know."

" " Of course, " Claire agreed, stepping inside and closing the door
behind her.

It was even warmer in the small kitchen than it had been by the front
door.  Claire slipped off her suit jacket and looked around for a safe
place to put it.  It wasn't that the apartment was dirty.  On the
contrary, though worn, the floor and countertops were clean and tidy.
The blue plaid seat cushions matched the place mats on the table and
crisp, whibe rufEled curtains brightened the windows.  However, the
open jelly jar, maple-syrup bottle and half-full juice glasses crowded
onto the small table made the whole area a danger zone for a woman
wearing pale yellow.  " " You can put it on my bed if you want, "
Sherry offered, observing her plight.  " It's that way," she added,
pointing with one hand while she used the spatula in the other to
expertly flip a piece of French toast.

Claire found the bedroom and hung her jacket on one post of a dark four
poster bed, noting that in this room, too, Sherry had created an
appealing atmosphere without much to work with.  A crocheted white
coverlet on the bed made the tiny space look larger, and the same
pretty rosqandwhite flowered chintz used for the window valanoes, toss
pillows and skirt of the dressing table pulled things together nirely.
Lackingany decorating talent at all, Claire was impressed.

The top of the dressing table held a mirrored tray with cosmetics and a
group of small framed photographs.  Without thinking, she paused to
look at them on her way out.  Most were of the two boys.  There was a
vintage photograph of a young couple on their wedding day, which she
guessed was of Sherry's parents.  Toward the back of the table was a
shot of Sherry holding a new boro in her arms, and suddenly Claire knew
what was so familiar about the woman.

The picture on the dressing table was the same one she had seen Luke
shove into his wallet the day he'd left prison.  She'd had such a quick
glimpse at the time that she couldn't even have described the picture,
but seeing it again, she was certain it was the same photo.  There was
something about the way Sherry was smiling in the picture and the
carefree lift of her chin that had stuck in Claire's mind.  That and
the fact that Luke chose to carry a photo of a woman and baby.

She hurried back to the kitchen just as Sherry finished cutting up the
boys' French toast.

"What are your sons' names?"  she asked, taking a seat at the table.

"This is Ben," Sherry told her, placing her hand on the shoulder of the
older boy.  "And the little guy with the stubbed nose is Nicky."

"Mom," Nicky said, rolling his eyes.  "It's not my nose iYs my toe: '

"Oh, that's right," his mother said, tapping him on the nose lightly. "
" I always get those two mixed up.  "

Nicky laughed at her silliness.  Even Ben, clearly the quieter of the
two boys, smiled as he ate his toast.  Claire sensed genuine warmth and
love among the small family.

She accepted Sherry's offer of coffee, and by the time it was ready,
the boys had finished eating and disappeared into their bedroom to play
a video game.

"I like to make sure they get outside on nice days," Sherry said as she
placed a bluqand-white flowered mug of coffee in front of her, "so I
hope this won't take too long: '

"It won't, I promise.  I see you named your second son after his
father."

It was an observation, not a question, but Sherry launched into a quick
explanation.

"Yes.  I had a favorite uncle named Benjamin, so when Ben was boro I
really wanted to use that name.  Then when Nicky came along, it was
Nick's turo and so..  : She trailed off with a shrug.

"They're both fine, strong names."

"I think so."  She shrugged again.  "Anyway, iYs done now.  Those are
their names for better or worse.  I just wish.  : "

"What do you wish, Sherry?"  Claire prodded gently.

"Nothing: Sherry shook her head, obviously banishing whatever thought
had brought such sadness to her face.  " What did you want to ask me?
"

"Mainly I want to know more about your ex-husband," Claire explained,
slippinga small notepad from her purse.  "Tell me about Nick Addison:
'

Over the next hour or so she filled several pages of the notepad with
facts supplied to her by Sherry.  Details about Nick Addison's family
background and his childhood in Massachusetts.  Sherry revealed that
they had met in Atlantic

City, when Nick stopped into the lounge where she was working at the
time.  They'd fallen in love, married and Ben had been boro all within
a year.  Nicky was boro two years later.  During their marriage they'd
lived in a small town that was the home office for the insulation
company Nick worked for.  His job as a salesman kept him on the road
most of the time.  As their marriage began to disintegrate, that wasn't
such a bad thing, Sherry told her.

As interesting to Claire as everything Sherry told her was what she
didn't tell.  It was obvious at times that she was holding back.  It
was equally apparent that some questions brought her facqto-face with
some personal demons from her past.  At those times she jumped up to
refill their still-full coffee mugs or check on the boys.

Claire didn't press her.  She simply observed, and made a separate
column of notations about which subjects made the other woman most
tense and jittery.

Her marriage just died, she told Claire several times.  There was no
single big blowup, no abuse, no unfaithfulness on either side.  Just
two everyday people who fell out of love as simply and quickly as they
had fallen into it.  Claire didn't say so, but she didn't buy it.

When she had finished, Sherry accompanied her to the bedroom to
retrieve her jacket

"Your home is lovely," Claire told her.  "You have a real knack for
decorating: '

"Thanks, I enjoy it," she replied, obviously pleased by the compliment.
"And I think it's important to make things as nice and as... normal as
possible for the boys: '

Claire nodded in agreement.  "I couldn't help noticing your
photographs," she said, stopping next to the dressing table and picking
up the one of Sherry holding a baby.  "Is this Ben or Nicky you're
holding?"

"Ben," Sherry replied, staring at the picture over Claire's shoulder.
"" You look very happy here.  "

"I was happy.  It was a beautiful day, I had a beautiful new baby."

Claire noted the wistfulness in her tone.

"And a new husband.  Did Nick take this picture?"

Sherry s expression changed and became anxious.  She glanced quickly at
Claire and took the picture from her hand.  "No.  It was taken by... a
friend."

"Do you have any pictures of your ex-husband?"

Sherry shook her head.

"Maybe even a snapshot of him with the boys?"

She shook her head again, her jaw noticeably tight.  "When I left, I
wanted to make a fresh start, without any reminders of the past: '

"I understand.  Thanks for talking with me, Sherry.  If I think of
anything else, I'll be in touch: '

Sherry looked less than enthusiastic about the prospect of seeing her
again, and Claire left the apartment convinced that the woman's version
of her marriage and divorce had been as artfully put together as her
apartment decor.  Luke wasn't the only one with gut instinct.  Claire's
gut was telling her that Sherry had not only come to hate the man she
married, she'd been scared to death of him.  And was now scared to say
so.

Outside, she hurried toward her car, eager to get the air conditioning
working.  She had unlocked the door and opened it before she realized
there was someone in the passenger seat.  Her heart jolted and raced
and she took a reactive step backwards just as a hand shot out and
caught her.

"Going somewhere?"

"Luke," she said, recognition bring inga heavy sigh of relief.  She
collapsed onto the driver's seat and whacked him on the shoulder.  " "
You jerk, you scared the daylights out of me.  "

"Then we're even.  Ilost a little daylight myself when I knocked on
your door this morning and found you weren't there.  No note, no
explanation."  He made a tsking sound.  "What happened to your
small-town manners?"

"I don't use them professionally.  How did you know where to find me?
"

"

" Same way you knew where to find Sherry, I expect.  "

Their eyes met and they spoke at the same time.  " " Brad: " " You can
see, " Luke ventured, " " how his helpfulness can be a double-edged
sword: '

"Apparently.  What I'd really like to know, though, is how you got into
my car when I'm sure I left it locked."

"You'd be amazed at the useful tricks I know: '

"I'm sure."  "

" Why did you take off without me this morning, Claire?  "

"I didn't want to wake you: '

His dark brows lifted dubiously.

"All right, I confess, I wanted to talk to Sherry."

"I don't know.  I just had this crazy idea it might be more useful to
talk with her without her speech writer present."

He ignored her implication.  "And did she?  Talk to you, that is?  "

He was slouching with his back against the door, his tone offhand, but
Claire had a hunch he wasn't feeling nearly as relaxed as he wanted to
appear.

"Yes, although she didn't want to at first.  Did you perhaps have
something to do with that?"

"Moi?"

"Why, Luke, you liedl" she exclaimed, feigning surprise' You can speak
French, after all.  " " "You got me."

"

" Not yet.  But I will: '

"So how did you change Sherry's mind about talking?"

" " I told her that I was only interested in arranginga plea bargain
and that I needed her help to get the charges against you reduced..
making clear, of course, that the charges would remain lodged against
you and you alone.  "

He didn't even blink.  "Why would any of that matter to

Sherry?  "

"Oh, knock it off, Luke.  For starters, I ahqeady know that Sherry was
married to Addison and that according to the police she was the woman
you and he were arguing over."

"Not bad," he allowed, his smile grim.  "Do my compliments go to you or
Rancourt?"

"Both.  We're a team.  Care to join?"

"Thanks, but I'm not much of a team player "

"Really?  Somehow I'm getting the distinct impression you're playing on
a different team entirely."

"

" What are you getting at "

"The truth, I hope."

"And just what do you think the truth is?"

She noticed he wasn't slouching any longer.  "I think the truth is that
Sherry Wakefield killed her ex-husband," she informed him in a blunt
stab in the dark, "and that for some crazy, noble, misguided reason,
you're taking the fall for her: '

Chaqbter 7

cc "

I rescind my compliment.

Luke managed to sound suitably disdainful even as he struggled to get a
grip on the havoc Claire's little announcement had caused inside him.
Stay cool, he warned himself.  Breathe slowly, relax muscles, maintain
eye contact lest your opponent think you've got something worth hiding.
Much better.

"I'm crushed," Claire retorted.

"You should be embarrassed, instead.  The idea that it might have been
Sherry who shot Addison isn't even worth discussing," he said
dismissively.

She glared at him in indignation.  "Why not?"

"Because the police already have their man.  Me," he reminded her. "Why
go chasing shadows?"

" " Because Addison's dead and you didn't do it.  Have you forgotten
you admitted that to me only last night?  "

"I haven't forgotten anything about last night.  Last night I wasn't
thinking straight."

"

" And now you are?  "

"Now l am."

"The fact remains that you didn't kill Addison and qmeone else did.  So
why not Sherry?"

"Because I say so, that's why "

"Oh, please.  That line hasn't worked on me since I was qe yGars
old."

"qNo?  Then try this one," he snapped, his voice rising.

"Back off on Sherry Wakefield, Claire."

"Or else?"

He nodded.  "

" Or else.  "

He saw her recoil slightly and watched as she sat in siqce ; studying
him with wounded eyes.  Luke hated being the one who'd put that look on
her face.  He had to fight to keep from reaching over and pulling her
into his arms and belling her he hadn't meant to yell at her, that he
wasn't angry with her.  Just at life in general.

This anger was new to him and he hadn't quite figured out how to handle
it.  That ticked him off even more.  After all, he was a master at
playing whatever hand he was dealt, acoepting his losses and moving
on.

Instead, he found himself suddenly boiling over with q reqtment and
with nowhere to direct it.  No one had forced him into this situation.
Sherry herself was aghast at the sacrifioe he insisted on making to
keep her out of prison.  You qe more to lose than I do, he'd told her.
And he'd meant it: He'd never expected to be sitting here, hurting
inside over a qq q quldn't possibly have envisioned.

He supposed most people wouldn't even call it a loss, q you can't lose
something you never had.  Strictly qing, Claire wasn't his to lose. But
Luke had always preferred possibilities to reality and, like any man
who'd rislqed fifty dollars to win five thousand, he knew you : q:
qdn't hare to hold something in your hand to feel as if it q:::.  q qq;
yours.

"Sorry," Claire said finally, drawing herself up in her seat, "but we
made a deal, and as far as I'm conoerned ,

Sherry Wakefield and anyone else who might help me prove your innocence
is fair game.  "

"Didn't I tell you?  I'm changing the terms of our deal."

"You can't do that: '

"The hell I can't.  Dealer's prerogative, new deck, new deal.  Here it
is.  If you want to stick around and do exactly what you told Sherry
you were trying to do-come up with circumstantial evidenre that will
put enough dents in the DA: s case to convince him to offer me a
deal-then I'll be grateful to you.  But I don't want you running around
trying to save my ass by pinning the murder on someone else."

"Such as Sherry?"  "Such as Sherry."

"And if I don't accept your new terms?"  she inquired, her chin coming
up defiantly.

"Then the deal is off entirely.  I'll turn myself back in today and
plead guilty to the first cop who'll listen."

She stared at him, trying to gauge the seriousness of his threat, and
Luke watched as anger, frustration and finally acceptance flashed in
her eyes.

"So whaYs it going to be?"  he asked.

"You don't leave me much choice, do you?  It's a real catch-22.  If I
try to prove you're innocent the best way I know how in this case, by
finding whoever did kill Nick Addison, you'll go ahead and plead
guilty, anyway."

"Does that mean you're staying or going home?"

"Staying," she snapped.  She shook her head in disgust as she thrust
the key into the ignition.  "Although for the life of me, I don't know
why I'm even bothering: " " Sure you do, " Luke drawled, unleash inga
mischievous grin as relief spread through him.  Relief that Sherry was
safe and Claire was staying.  It was a feeling as close to contentment
as he could expect to enjoy for a long time, and it made him reckless.
"You're sticking around for the same reason you came to see me in the
first place-because you're.

q honorable woman, a woman who always pays her debts q full, and
because you think you owe me.  "

"I owe you?"  she echoed, slanting him a wary glance, the barest hint
of nervousness in her laugh.

"That's right: '

"What on earth for?"

His grin broadened.  "Services rendered."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, hiding behind the
hair that fell like a silk curtain whenever she tilted her head.

"Then let's see if I can jog your memory."

Luke reached out and thrsaded his fingers into her hair, pushing it
back from her face.  Laying his palm against her cheek, he slowly drew
her toward him as he leaned closer.

The urge to kiss her had been building in him ever since last night,
when Sherry had interrupted them.  It was so strong by now that just
touching her made him tremble inside It took all the willpower he
possessed to keep from dragging her into the kind of hard, fast kiss he
needed to tate the edge off his craving.

Instead, he did something he'd been thinking about almost from the
minute she'd showed up at the j all and turned his life upside down. He
held her faoe in his hands and qly traced her mouth with the tip of his
tongue, lingerqng on the soft, damp spot just inside her lower lip. It
was, he knew, a gesture much more intimate than a kiss.

Ihawing back slightly, he met her gaze.  "How come you , taste so
good?"  he asked softly.  : Her lips parted slightly, the look she gave
him a blend of cqtution and surprise.  "I-I've been drinking coffee."

"hust me, Angel, iYs not coffee I'm tasting " '"Oh, God," Claire
whispered.  "You do remember..

That night at the Phantom, everything.  " q'Everything," he confirmed,
nodding.  "The way you  felt and what we said to each other. And the
way you tasted.  But it was not coffee I licked off you that night: She
withdrew from him, bewildered.  " You told me you ; didn't remember
anything about me, not the tutoring or the" " " I lied," he
interjected.  " " But why?  " He shrugged.  " Old habits die hard, I
guess.  It just came naturally for me to play things close to the vest
until I figured out what cards you were holding : "So you remembered me
all along?"  He nodded.  "I just might surprise you with all that I ,
remember about you... Angel," he added, smiling at her.  "For instance,
I remember how I started calling you that after you slipped me the
questions that were going to be on q old Madame LeClerc's final exam in
French."  A smile softened her lips.  "Because you said I was your
angel of mercy."

"And you said I didn't deserve any mercy.  You were right, you know.  I
didn't deserve to have you stick your neck out for me.  Not then and
not now, Claire."  "Why not?  You stuck out more than your neck for me
when I was in trouble that night outside the Phantom: " That was
different.  " .  " "Why?  Because you were the one doing the rescuing?"
" " Maybe," he said, not sure how to explain to her that stopping those
guys from hurting her hadn't been an act of bravery or heroism on his
part.  It was just an impulse, something he'd had to do, like breathing
or sleeping.  You didn't take credit for things like that.  He couldn't
have ignored what was happening to her any more than he used to be able
to cower beside his brother and sisters while his old man was hitting
his mother in the next room.  Even if it meant taking a beating
himself, he'd always had to try and stop him from hurting her.

"Maybe I don't deserve to be rescued because I walk into trouble with
my eyes open.  For instance, I knew all that last semester that I had
to pass French in order to graduate.  LeClerc warned me, you warned me,
hell, I even warned myself from time to time.  But there was always
something else I'd rather do than study French."

"In the end you still had to study," she reminded him.  "I simply used
those questions to give you a nudge in the right direction."

"A nudge?"  he groaned.  "By the end of that last tutoring session with
you I felt as if I'd been run over by a French-speaking bulldozer " " "
You passed.  "

"Barely."  "

" You graduated.  "

"True.  Thanks to you: '

"Then why won't you trust me to help you now?"  she implored.

"It's not a matter of trust," he countered, shifting restlessly in his
seat.  "Believe me, this situation is a lot more complicated than a
high school French exam... or being pawed by some drunks in a parking
lot: '

"Evidently your memory isn't as good as you think it is," she snapped,
rolling down her window with jerky motions, as if she desperately
needed a shot of fresh air.  She curled her fingertips over the edge of
the steering wheel and stared grimly through the front windshield.  "I
wasn't simply being pawed by those men.  They had ripped my clothes
half off, touched me"

She broke off, squeezing her eyes shut as she struggled to hold back
the tears that quivered in her voice.  Luke's heart wrenched inside
him.

"Hey, Angel, come on.  I didn't mean..  : '

She lifted a hand to stop him from trying to stop her.  After a few
seconds she continued, still not looking in his direction as she forced
the words out.

" " The things they said to me made it very clear that they intended to
rape me.  All three of them.  " Her shoulders shook.  " I was never so
scared in my life.  I remember being scared to death that they might
end up killing me.  I've learnerl and seen enough since then to know
that wasn't an idle fear by any means.  " She turned to look at him,
tears still shimmering in her eyes, but her voice becoming strong and
full of conviction.

"I might be alive today because of you.  So don't try and tell me I
don't owe you something or that I was wrong to come here and try to
help."

" " I never said you were wrong, " Luke told her.  " " I admit that I
may have resisted the whole idea at first, mostly because

I couldn't believe you had come in the first place, at least not for
the reasons you claimed.  Even when I figured out what was really going
on in that stubborn head of young, I couldn't believe that after all
this time you would go to so much trouble to return a twelve-year-old
favor.  "

"It was a little more than a favor.  Besides," she continued ,
shrugging, "iYs not all that much trouble.  As I told you, I'm more or
less between cases at home-"

"It's not just the legal stuff," he said, cutting in.  "I guess what
really blew me away was that right from the start you actually believed
I was innocent."

The tinkling melody of an ice-cream truck broke the late morning quiet.
It stopped a few car lengths in front of them and kids came running
from yards up and down the street.  Luke used the distraction to corral
his thoughts.  The way Claire made him feel, it would be easy to open
up too much, to say things he couldn't risk saying.  For a minute he
watched to see if Sherry and the boys might appear, and he experienced
a twinge of disappointment when they didn't.

What would it feel like, he wondered, if they did come out and get on
line and he joined them there?  He would buy Ben and Nicky the biggest
cones the driver sold, watching their eyes go wide when he handed them
over.  He would find a shady spot for them to sit and eat, wiping the
drips that dribbled onto their chin and never telling them to hurry up
because he had better things to do.

Snap out of it, Cabrio.  How it would feel to do that was something he
was never going to know.  Even with a plea bargain and time off for
good behavior, by the time he was out of prison they wouldn't be little
boys anymore.

He turoed back to Claire.  "You're the only one who does believe I'm
innooent, you know.  Rancourt told me outright he didn't want to know,
and the others who came to see me in jail just sort of tiptoed around
my reason for being there.  Not that their reaction came as a big
surprise."

"What do you mean?"

He gave a careless shrug.  "Most of my life people expected the worst
of me and I delivered on it.  I was a fool to think things had changed
that much.  That I had changed enough so that maybe Max and Brad and
the others" He broke off, giving in to a rueful smile.  "What the hell,
I can't blame theqn for accepting the obvious.  I was caught with the
body and the murder weapon.... How did you put it?  Motive , means and
opportunity?"

"From what I've seen, both Max and Brad support you wholeheartedly."

"Oh, they've made it clear they're in my corner, all right.  But
there's a difference between supporting someone and believing in him.
You're the only one who was able to look me in the eye and tell me she
knew in her heart that I couldn't have done it.  Why is that,
Claire?"

"I guess you'll have to ask the others."

He shook his head, stretching his arm along the back of her seat,
permitting himself the luxury of brushing her shoulder with his
fingertips.  "That won't help, because I'm really less interested in
why they don't believe in me that way than I am in why you do."

"I don't have a nice, neat answer for that," she replied.  "I only know
that when I read the news of your arrest in the paper, and saw the
photo of you that ran along with it, about a thousand memories came
crashing in on me, memories of high school and some of the silly things
we laughed at when I was supposed to be helping you study and... and
the way you held me that night in the parking lot.  Mostly that, I
guess.

"I just kept staring at that picture of you," she went on, "and telling
myself that people change, that I had no idea what kind of man you'd
become, that I was hardly an expert on Luke Cabrio-or criminal law, for
that matter.  Nothing helped.  You say you've spent a lifetime playing
things close to the vest?  Well, I've spent my time constructing
logical, legal arguments to support whatever position I'm being paid to
defend.  I'm very good at being logical.  But all the logical arguments
in the world didn't change the fact that every time I looked at your
picture, I knew I was looking into the eyes of a hero, not a
murderer."

"Hell, Claire," he muttered, wincing, "I'm no hero."

"Yes, you are," she insisted softly.  She reached out and touched his
jaw.  "ThaYs why you have this scar.  It's also why I wasn't gang-raped
when I was only seventeen.  And iYs why you're going to prison, instead
of Sherry."

He focused his gaze on the icccream truck as it drove out of sight.  "I
told you I don't want to talk about Sherry."

"

" You must care about her very much: "

" We're friends.  "

"She said that you dated for a while, but it was over a long time
ago."

"" A very long time ago," he confirmed.

"It's obvious you still have strong feelings for her, though.  Tell me,
did she leave you for Addison?"

The question caught him unprepared, stirringa bitterness in him that
Luke thought he'd left behind.  "She left me, but not for Addison."

"Were you trying to win her back?"

"I told you, we're friends.  Period."

" " Friends' covers a lot of territory.  Think you could be a little
more specific?  "

He jerked his head around and met her gaze.  "I'm not sleeping with
her, if that's what you want to know.  Is that specific enough for you,
Counselor?  "

That was only part of what she wanted to know.  " " Are you in love
with her?  " she asked.

"

" No.  "

"But there is something between you.  Don't bother to deny it
because"

"Because it would only prolong this discussion I swore I wasn't going
to have with you.  So I won't deny it.  Yes, there is something between
Sherry and me, and what it is is none of your business."

"Look, if you don't want to tell me, just say so "

He smiled sardonically.  "I just did, Angel."

"Fine," she snapped.  "If you don't want to talk, I'll go question the
witnesses who overheard you and Addison arguing over her.  All in the
interest of developing circumg stantial evidence, of course, she added,
tossin her hair back and twisting the keys to start the engine.  "
Luckily, two of them live here in the city.  I can drop you off at the
hotel on my way to see them.  "

"Thanks, but all things considered, I'd rather tag along."

"You can't be present when I question them," she waroed.  "It might be
construed as intimidation: '

"Then I'll wait in the car."

"It could take awhile.  Hours even.  That's a long time to be cooped
up."

"

" No problem, " he countered dryly.  "

" I can use the practice"

She was right.  It did turo out to be a long afterooon, and a
frushating one.  Worse, the next few days were more of the same. 
Claire wasn't sure whether to blame it on the heat or bad karma, but
everything she attempted seqed to take.  longer and cause more
aggravation than it ought to.

One week down and one to go, she told herself on Mondayafternoon She
was alone in her suite, reassessing Luke's s situation and not
particularly pleased with her progress on his behalf.  After several
wasted trips to his home, she d finally managed to speak with one of
the men who had witnessed the argument between Luke and Addison, and
shea was almost sorry she'd bothered.  He rqnained adamant that he had
heard Luke threaten loudly and clearly to kill Addison unless he stayed
away from "some broad," as the witness put it.  No matter how she
approached it, she couldn't shake him from his recollection of the word
kill.

"The second witness seemed to be less damaging.  According to the
police report, he'd maintained it had been diqH cult to hear exactly
what was said during the argument.

Unfortunately, the address he'd given the police proved to be phony.
Not a good sign.  She had Brad at work trying to'q trace the man
through the credit card he'd used, but so far" he hadn't had any
luck.

At least she had made some headway toward establ;c inga possible alibi
for Luke by extending the range for the time of death.  According to
her calculations, there had been at least a twenty-minute delay between
the time the couple in the next room heard what they thought was a
gunshot and the time they finally reported it to the front desk.  First
they had debated between themselves about getting involved am then
they'd had trouble with the phone in their room.

That was explained by the fact that there had been q problem with the
hotel's computerized phone system that night, which, coupled with
unusually high usage, had resulted in fewer than half the usual number
of lines 1q available at any time.  The reference to unusually high q
ge immediately made Claire wonder whether Luke may have spent any time
on the telephone that night.

The telephone call made a questionable alibi, but it would make case
against Luke less clear-cut, which what she was supposed to be doing. 
If she could show everyone that Addison qght have been killed even
earlier than q thought and that Luke might have been on the phone at
the time, it would add weight to the theory that he couly qved on the
scene after the shooting had al read q place. ,

The DA.  wouldn t buy it, of course, but it should serve q him less
confident of his chances of gettinga conqction for murder one and hence
more willing to deal.  q,"qald agreed that it was an angle worth
pursuing and had for a forensic scientist to analyze the bloodstains in
relation to the rature in the room at q:q q;me ... a handy little
detail she'd gleaned from a blowup :q oq of the crime-sceqe photographs
that showed the ostat in the room.

She'd discovered that good investigative skills were as

=q to a criminal case as to a financial one.  Her initial

' ty had disappeared once she began actually getting the facts and
finding herself in the familiar pattern q q,all revelation leading to
another. Unbeknownst to who claimed he hadn't been on the phone at all
that q8q she had also thought to ask Brad for a list of Luke's calls
for the past month.  Who knew what she might from them?  ':q q spite of
all that, however, she couldn't shake the feel that she was simply
spinning her wheels.  Which, of she was.  ThaYs exactly what Luke
intended for her q. q threat to confess on the spot if she tried to
prove t it was really Sherry who'd murdered her ex-husband ted her from
digging for evidence the way she longed qt was like qg a qq that she'd
already been told she

't win.  h h curled t it was frustrating as hell, she through t as s e
the sofa in the sitting room, going over the police and medical
examiner's reports for what seemed like the hundredth time.  She wasn't
sure what she was looking for, only that she had to keep looking.  It
sometimes took a very small key to unlock a very big mystery.  Her
father had taught her that when she complained about the hours she
spent poring over a client's tax returns or financial statements.  She
was certain that same principle applied to criminal cases, also.  It
was just a matter of looking for the needle in a different sort of
haystack.

She paused to rub her temples.  Eyestrain and frustration were
combining to produce a whopper of a headache.  She was accustomed to
winning and she didn't like the prospect of losing one bit.  Sure, even
with the case they'd already built, they would probably secure a decent
plea bargain, but that wasn't the same as winning, and Claire wanted to
win this case more than she could remember ever wanting to win any
other.  The reason was obvious and becoming more so every day.  She was
falling in love with Luke.

Shovingaside the paperwork strewn across her lap, she jumperl up from
the sofa and went to the small refrigerator for a can of soda.
Unfortunately, it didn't help wash away what she was feeling, or
distract her from what she was so afraid to feel.  To her dismay, she'd
already discovered that there was no way she could run away or distract
herself from thoughts of Luke.

Of course, the fact that she was with him practically every waking
moment didn't help.  But even when they were apart, like right now, he
was always on her mind.  She'd racked her brain to think of a way to
convinoe Luke not to throw his life away for something he hadn't done,
and after a string of preoccupied days and sleepless nights, she'd been
forced to accept that it was hopeless.

Spending hour after hour alone with a man gave you a chance to get to
know him pretty well.  In fact, they'd joked that their situation
strongly resembled being stranded together on a deserted island, even
teasing each other with the nicknames Professor and Mary Ann from the
old "Gilligan 's Island" television series.

It was a closeness so sudden and intense that it had a way of lulling
you into saying things you might not otherwise.  During the past week
they had both done a lot of talking, and listening, and everything new
she had learned about Luke only reinforced what she'd known before she
came here.

He was a strong and honorable man, perhaps the strongest and most
honorable man she'd ever known, and he wasn't afraid to put himself at
risk to help someone who needed his help.  What he was doing for Sherry
was an act of sheer kindness and self-sacrifice.  A sacrifice she
couldn't imagine anyone else making, and she loved him and hated him
for it at the same time.

At a knock on the door, she glanced at the clock and frowned.  She'd
made plans to have dinner with Luke, the same as she did every night,
but that wasn't for several hours.  It was all part of his
round-the-clock surveillance.  She wasn't sure if he was as concerned
with her safety as he professed or simply didn't trust her out of his
sight.  It didn't matter.  She cooperated without protest because deep
down she wanted to spend every minute with him that she possibly could
If this week was all they had, she intended to make the most of it.

"Who is it?"  she called out, eschewing the peephole, which in her
opinion made even a friendly face look distorted

"It's Brad, Claire."

She hurriedly unlatched the dead bolt and opened the door with a
smile.

"Hi, Brad: '

"I come bearing gifts," he said, waving what looked like a computer
printout.  "I've had it since yesterday, but you asked me to keep this
quiet and I haven't had a chance to see you alone."

"Thanks, Brad, I appreciate your cooperation on this: '

"It wasn't easy..  getting you alone, I mean.  I was beginning to think
you and Luke were attached at the hip or something "

Claire just smiled and shrugged.

"So are you?  Or something, that is?"  He flashed her a smile she would
have found irresistible if not for the fact that she found Luke's a
hundred times more irresistible and she was a onqsmile woman.  "I've
never seen Luke so..  captivated by a woman: '

"Really?"  she returned, pleased to think that if Luke had been
captivated by Sherry any time recently, Brad would surely know it.  So
why on earth was he throwing his life away for her?  "I guess that just
shows how serious he is about his case: '

"He's serious, all right, but I'm not sure it's only about his case.
The man hardly lets you out of his sight: '

"I know.  Speaking of which..  : she murmured with a wary glanre at the
door of Luke's room, wondering if she should ask Brad to step inside.

"Don't worry," he assured her.  "He's down in his office clearing up a
few things.  That's why I'm here."

"Now I see why you left modeling for security," she teased.  "You're a
natural.  So what do you have there?"

"Not everything you wanted, I'm afraid.  I'm still doing battle with
the credit-card company over that guy's address , but I'll get it out
of them eventually.  In the meantime , here's a copy of the record of
all activity on Luke's telephone for the past month: '

"Terrific!"  she exclaimed, taking it from him.

"It's pretty self-explanatory as far as date and time," he explained,
"and there are separate columns for incoming and outgoing calls "

Claire wrinkled her forehead as she quickly scanned the list.  "Why
aren't there any numbers in this column?"

"Bqause we don't have numbers for incoming calls," he said, glancing
over her shoulder, "just the calls Luke made."

"I see," she said.  "Well, that's better than nothing.  Thanks,
Brad."

"I'm glad I could help.  I took a look at the calls for the day of the
murder and circled in red the ones made from any of the security phones
here in the hotel... which is most of them, since Luke was working that
night.  Those calls are all routinely recorded.  I have the tapes
downstairs, if you're interested."

"I'm not sure, yet.  I'll let you know: '

"Fine.  I also checked out the number that Luke called that night: '

"Wow, you're good.  That was my next step.  What did you find out?"

"IYs the number of a private school just outside the city.  I asked
around and found out this place, Brighton Academy , is pretty
exclusive... and expensive."

Claire's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  " " What would Luke be doing call
inga school?  Did you happen to find out whom he spoke with there?  "

Brad nodded, his carefully shuttered expression in itself revealing.

"Who was it?"

"The headmaster.  The guy's a real egghead.  He not only remembers
speaking at length with Luke, he took notes of their conversation and
recorded the exact time it began and ended."

"If the times are right, that could really help us," she exclaimed

"It could, except..  : "

"Except for the reason Luke called.  It seems he was looking into
enrolling Sherry's son, Ben, in the school.  With Addison being her ex
and that argument in the lobby and all, well, it doesn't look good for
him to be so involved, does it?"

"It doesn't look as good as I'd like it to," Claire replied, concealing
the sinking sensation going on inside her, "but it doesn't look
hopeless."  She glanced at the printout once more.  "I just wish there
was some way of finding out who placed these two incoming calls: '

"Sorry I can't be more help with that," Brad said.  "I have no way of
knowing where a call is coming from: '

"Unless," Claire countered, excitement flashing in her eyes, "it's
coming from another room here in the hotel."

"

" Of course.  in that case I could "

"Brad," she interrupted, unable to wait.  "I want you to get me a list
of calls placed from Nick Addison's room the nqght of the murder."

Brad stared at her, star fled "You think maybe he called Luke?  That
maybe he lured Luke down there in the first place?"

"I think someone might have placed a call to Luke from that room," she
said, "and I think you're wonderful for helping me figure it out: '

Claire was so thrilled, she threw her arms around Brad's neck in a
quick, spontaneous hug, without giving a thought to the fact that they
were still standing in the open doorway of her room, with her drqessed
only in the oversize T shirt she'd been lounging in, and that someone
walking by might easily misinterpret the gesture.  Or that the someone
in question might be

She first saw him over Brad's shoulder and immediately drew away.  Luke
folded his arms across his chest and leaned one shoulder against the
door frame as if stopping for a friendly chat.

"You kids having fun?"  he asked, his mouth twisted into a cynical
grin.  " " Luke, " Brad said, freezing.

Claire couldn't help noticing that he looked about as guilty as she
suddenly felt, and for absolutely no reason.  They were both simply
reacting to the air of cool speculation that Luke wasn't bothering to
hide.

"I was just..  : Again Brad fell silent, glancing quickly at her for a
cue.  She understood.  He'd been about to try to explain the hug by
telling Luke what he was doing there and had ended up feeling twice as
guilty.

"Thanks for dropping off this information, Brad," she said brightly,
taking the precaution of rolling the papers in her hand into a
cylinder.  "I'll look it over later."

" " Anytime.  " He smiled reflexively and glanced at his watch.  " I
just remembered something I have to check on.  If you'll excuse me..
"

"Of course.  Don't let me keep you," Luke said, his tone quietly
mocking.

Brad turned his head and shot her an apologetie look.  "See you
later,

With Brad gone, she turned and walked back inside.  Luke followed.

"So, what was Brad doing here?"  he asked, a bit too offhandedly for
Claire's peace of mind.

"He was dropping off some information I asked him to get for me, " she
replied, slipping the printout into her briefcase and snapping it shut.
"" Mind if I have a look at it?  "

"Not at all," she said, turning to find him standing right at her
shoulder.  She smiled sweetly.  "As soon as I've had a chance to."

His return smile was pure, unadulterated ice.  The look in his eyes was
a little tougher to decipher completely, but the black gleam of
suspicion was unmistakable.  Claire just wished she knew if he was more
upset over finding her in Brad's arms or the fact that she was doing
business behind his back.

"What sort of information is it?"  he inquired, still wearing that damn
smile.

"Do you remember me telling you I asked Brad to try to track down the
second witness's real address?  He was just getting back to me."

Claire told herself that it wasn't a lie.  Exactly.

"You mean he came up with this guy's address?"

" " Not yet: " " Then what were those papers he gave you?  " " "A list
of possibilities.  He wants me to look them over."

Now that was a lie.  A dumb one, too.  What on earth could she hope to
learn from looking at a list of possible addresses for a missing
witness?  Luke's expression told her he was asking himself the same
thing.

It didn't matter.  Even if he pressed her, she would have to bluff her
way through this.  She couldn't reveal to him her suspicion that Sherry
might have called him from Addison 's room that night or that she had
asked Brad for the records to confirm it.  If it proved true, she
wasn't sure, yet, how she would use the information.  She did know that
she couldn't risk having Luke jump to the conclusion that she was still
trying to pin the murder on Sherry and use it as a reason to call off
their deal.

"I see."  He crossed his arms.  Claire had felt less jittery waiting
for a judge to hand down his verdict.  "So that was his only reason for
being in your room?  "

"He wasn't in my room," she corrected, instantly regretting that she'd
felt it necessary to do so.

"No, I guess technically he wasn't.  But then, he didn't need to be
invited in: '

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that you two seemed to have gotten pretty chummy standing right
there in the open doorway."

"

" I was simply thanking him for his help "

Luke grinned maliciously.  "Imagine if he had actually found the guy
"

"For heaven's sake, I gave Brad a friendly hug.  Big deal: '

"It's more than you've given me."

She shot him a look of exasperation.  "Do you want a hug, Luke?  Is
that what this is all about?"

"No," he retorted, jamming his hands into the front pockets of his
jeans.  " " I just want to be kept informed about what's going on with
my case.  "

Back to the case.  She still didn't have a handle on what he was really
annoyed about.  She wondered if he did.

"I am keeping you informed."  Sort of, she amended silently'I'm still
waiting for the forensic report on the q bloodstains on the carpet and
I'm doing everything I can to locate this witness: '

"With Brad's help."

"ThaYs right, with Brad's help.  Is that a problem?"

"Not for me.  I do recall telling you, however, that Brad has a
reputation for being lethal on women, and you saying that you could
understand that.  Somethingabout how he gives new meaning to the term
gorgeous."

"I believe my exact words were " drop-dead' gorgeous," " she retorted,
her temper flaring.  "WhaYs your point, Luke?"

"The point is that you should be careful.  And maybe not waste so much
time trying to find a witness who probably isn't going to provide much
help anyway."

"I'll disregard most of that, since it's your pigheaded restrictions
that have me wasting my time as it is."  She tossed the hair from her
eyes and braced both hands on her hips.  "qAs for what this witness can
provide, he just might be able to cast doubt on the DA."  s prime
motive by testifying that he never heard you tell Addison you would
kill him if he didn't stay away from Sherry, thereby making you look a
little less like a flaming jealous lover: '

"I'm not her lover."

"Well, you're not mine, either.  So don't you dare-"

"I could be."

Chapter S

Claire fell still and studied Luke warily.  She was having trouble
relating what she thought she'd heard him say with the angry scowl on
his face.  "What did you say?"

"I said I could be your lover," he shot back in the same tone.  "It's
what I want, damn it.  I have a feeling it's what you want, too."

Admittedly, she didn't have much experience with men bluntly announcing
they wanted to become her lover, but in her opinion, even such a direct
approach ought to be made in a less-caustic manner.

She regarded him with disdain.  "When you put it so romantically, I
don't know how I could possibly resist."

Luke caught her arm as she tried to move past him and whirled her
around to face him.  Ebony ilecks glittered in the usually placid gray
of his eyes.  "Sorry, I'm not feqeling very romantic at the moment."

His grip on her arm tightened.  "You asked me if I wanted a hug from
you"

"And you said no," she broke in to remind him.

"That's right.  I don't want a hug, or a kiss on the cheek when I walk
you to your door at night, or to talk for hours about old times with
you sitting so damn close to me I sweqar I can taste you every time I
draw a breath.  I've had all of that I can take."

"So what do you want?"  she demanded, anger pushing her onto ice so
thin she would ordinarily avoid it at all costs.  " " This.  "

She might have protested if not for the fact that he had claimed her
mouth and occupied it before she could react.  Twice now, first outside
the casino and again the morning they had sat talking in her car
outside Sherry's, she'd been prepared for Luke to kiss her and it
hadn't quite happened.  Now she was caught totally off guard, and yet
she had such a strong sense of familiarity that it seemed the most
natural thing in the world to melt into his arms and kiss him back.

Her dream, she thought hazily, this was like her dream.

Except he wasn't gentle as he always was in her dream.  His mouth took
hers roughly, his hands raked over her back and clenched the soft curve
of her bottom, and nothing could have made her happier.  The urgency in
his passion and the underlying knots of tension she sensed in him bore
testimony to the intensity of his feelings.  Good.  She wanted him to
feel some of what she'd beqen feeling for days now

She felt the imprint of his body all along hers, sending enough
sensations to her brain to threaten total meltdown.  She felt the heat
and power in his muscles as he urged heI closer and closer; she felt
his desperation and his hunger, and then she felt nothing but his
mouth, his hands and her own explosive response.

He finally let her catch her breath, but his lips still hovered close
above hers.  When he spoke, the anger was gone from his voice, but not
the heat.  His husky whisper sent a thrill straight to the core of
her.

"This is what I want," he said, and he tilted her hips to let her feel
his arousal, using it to caress the ache building deep inside her.  "I
want you, Angel.  All of you.  I want to make love to you, over and
over again."

Her dream never progressed this far, but if it ever had, she was
certain that the Claire in the dream wouldn't have hesitated , but
would have known exactly what to say.  She knew now, too.

"Hurry," she said.  It was the briefest summation she'd ever made, and
the sweetest.

Surprise flickered in Luke's eyes, but he didn't waste time questioning
her response.  There was no need to.  Claire was already reaching for
him, signaling her own desire.  She swayed against him, eager to feel
once again the sensation of his body pressed to hers from shoulder to
thigh.

She tugged at his shirt.  She wanted his skin beneath her fingertips.
Luke beat her to it.  He pushed his hands beneath her loose T shirt and
worked it up above her waist.  Claire's knees went weak as she felt his
hands on her at last.

She wasn't wear inga bra.  Luke cupped her breast with one hand and
fumbled with her panties with the other.  Claire reached to unfasten
his belt, then opened the snap on his jeans and slipped her hand inside
to caress him.  He was hard and hot and silky.

Her touch made Luke tremble and he shoved his hand deeper inside her
panties, his fingers thrusting between her thighs.  The sound of the
lace panties ripping seemed amplified in the silent room.

To Claire, it was proof of how badly he wanted her, exciting her even
more.

Luke froze.

She immediately sensed the change in the tension she felt rippling
through his muscles, resistance replacing fervor.  He tried to pull
away gently, but her arms were still locked around his waist.

"Luke?"  she said softly.  "What are you doing?"

"Good question," he muttered.  "What the hell am I doing ?  "

He lifted his head, and something in his egpression suggested to Claire
a man who'sjust wandered in on a scene he doesn't quite understand.
That made two of them.  A strange coldness began to seep through her.

"I was under the impression you were making love to me," she said
uneasily.

"Take a closer look," he advised, his tone harsh.  "This isn't about
love."

Claire flinched.

It probably took less than sixty seconds for him to remove his hand
from her panties, tug down her shirt and fasten his jeans and belt, but
they were, without question, the most humiliating seconds of her
life.

"I'm sorry," he said without looking at her.

"You should be."  Claire stared at him, hurt and confused' Talk about
giving an all-new meaning to things.  "

He looked away.  "You don't have to tell me anything.  I already know
I'm a jerk, all right?"

She twisted away when he reached for her.  "Don't you touch me."

His chin came up as if she'd slapped him.  A heavy sigh lifted his
chest and she saw the cords in his throat flex, once again, as if he
was fighting for control.

"You're right," he said finally.  "I shouldn't touch you "

Claire shrugged.  His agreement was a hollow victory when she was
standing there with her heart still pounding from his kisses.  What the
hell had gone wrong?

"After all," he continued, "touching you is what got us into this in
the first place.  Just like I knew it would.  Why do you think I've
been avoiding putting my hands on you for the past week?"

"I wasn't aware that you had been."

His ezpression turned sardonic.  " " Think about it, Claire.  Think
about that flimsy lace thing you were wearing when I stopped by the
other morning"

"My robe?"  she interjected, frowning in disbelief.

He shook his head vehemently.  "No.  Robes are big and bulky and plaid.
That was..."  his eyes darkened with the memory "... something else.
Think about a man spending day and night with a woman who can turn him
on just by brushing back her hair.  Think about him knowing every
minute of that time that in just a few days he won't ever see her
again.  Yeah, I was afraid to touch you.  Hell, sometimes

I was even afraid to look at you for too long, because looking makes me
want to touch you and touching you makes me crazy.  "

He stalked away from her, moving all the way to the other side of the
room and hooking his fingers in the back pockets of his jeans before
turning back to her.  "What just happened here is proof of that.  Damn
it, Claire, you've got me thinking and acting like a fifteen-year-old,
my hormones surging into overdrive just because I catch you hugging
another guy.  Ripping your clothes off... and forget about a bed.  I
didn't even need the back seat of a car.  I was more than ready and
willing to make love to you standing right where you are: '

"This wasn't about love," she reminded him.

"Because it can't be.  Don't you think I want it to be different?"

"As usual, I don't have the slightest idea what you want: '

He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling and Claire could
actually see weariness claim his body.

"For the first time in a long, long time, you've got me wanting what I
can't have," he said when he finally looked at her once more.  "Claire,
a week from now I'll be back behind bars, and even if things go better
than we expect, I won't be getting out for a lot of years: '

"It doesn't have to be that way," she told him, unconsciously knotting
her slender hands.

"Yes, it does.  For me, it does.  Not for you, though.  Look at you,"
he said, a tender smile lifting the corners of his mouth in spite of
the grim resolve still in his eyes.  "You're young and smart and
beautiful.  You deserve the very best from life."

"What if I say you're the best thing for me?"

"You'd be as wrong as you've ever been.  I know I hurt you a minute
ago, but believe me, if I hadn't stopped I would have hurt you more in
the end.  Us making lo-sorry, us screwing, would have been a big
mistake."

His crudeness pierced like a knife, making her want to retreat and lick
her wounds, but she had crossed a line when she surrendered to his arms
and she wasn't going back without a fight.

"Shouldn't I be the one to decide that for myself?"  she demanded.

"Sure, but not in the heat of passion.  When you have a chance to think
about it rationally, I know you'll see I'm right."

"I have been thinking about it," she replied.  "For years now."

"What are you talking about

"I'm talking about you and me, and the fact that you were the real
reason I was at the Phantom that night twelve years ago.  I went there
hoping I would run into you.  I was leaving for college in a week and
I'd told myself that if anything was ever going to happen with you,
that was my last chance."

He slowly dropped his hands to his sides, his expression baffled. "What
did you want to happen?"

"I'm not sure I really knew, exactly," she confessed.  " " But I'd had
a wicked crush on you for a long, long time and I was desperate.  Just
once I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at me a few minutes
ago, to finally no tire that I was alive.  "

When she finished, Claire felt exposed and vulnerable.  She'd never
revealed that to another soul and never dreamed she would end up
telling Luke himself.  She prayed he wouldn't laugh or make fun of her.
There was no way she could handle that added rejection right now.  But
no matter how he reacted, she wasn't sorry it was finally out in the
open after all this time.

He wasn't laughing.  He looked astonished.  And miserable' Oh I noticed
you, Angel, believe me.  I just never realized : He shook his head
qegretfully.  " " Did you know that the only reason I even stuck it out
in French class was so that I'd have a reason to be tutored by you? "

"No," Claire countered, frowning as her mind struggled to make sense of
that.  "No, that can't be true.  You never paid any attention to me.
Even when you were forced to talk to me, it was always very offhand,
like I was a pesky kid sister or something."

The bold look that flared in his eyes stunned her.  "Trust me, I never
thought of you as my sister.  Not even close.  I don't know if you'd
define what I felt as a crush, but I was definitely aware of you... in
every way."

"Then why didn't you ever do anything about it?"

"Like what?  Ask you out?"

"Yes," she declared, struggling with a whirlwind of new emotions. "That
would have been a start: '

"I guess because asking you out would have raised that age-old
question-do I pull my motorcycle right up to your door and watch your
old man's jaw drop when he sees who's there to pick up his little girl,
or simply ask you to sneak out and meet me at a dive like the
Phantom?"

"I would have."  She shook her head.  "What am I saying ?  I did: '

"And look what almost happened to you: " "But it didn't happen, because
of you.  You saved me: " "Itqvice in the same night," he countered, his
smile heavy, deepening the lines at the sides of his mouth.  " " Bet
you never knew that: '

"I don't understand: '

"IYs simple.  You were in more danger that night than you qealized.  Do
you remember what happened after I got rid of those guys?  " " "
Remember?  " She tugged at the hem of her shirt as she moved closer to
him.  " I don't think I thought about anything else for months
afterwards: She didn't add that she'd also thought about it often in
the years since.  " " You held me until I stopped crying and asked me
if I wanted you to call the police.  : '

"And you said absolutely not because then your folks would find out
where you'd been.  You see, even you knew there was something wrong
with that place and with the people who hung out there."

"It was pretty rough, I grant you, but you were never like those other
guys: '

"I never had a taste for rape or hassling women, iYs true.  But don't
kid yourself, Angel, I was at home at the Phantom .  much more at home
than I would have been sitting in your living room: '

"How do you know?  You never even-"

He raised a hand to cut off her protest and at the same time stopped
her from moving any closer.  " " We were in different leagues, Claire.
Just think about it.  Your old man was a lawyer and now you're one,
too.  I spent my formative years stay inga half step ahead of the law
and then graduated to gambling full-time.  As you pointed out, iYs not
the most illustrious career choice.

"I may not have been able to conjugate verbs," he went on, " " but I
knew the score where you and I were concerned.  I knew if we hooked up
it would only be trouble-for both of us.  1'hat didn't stop me from
wanting you, though, when I was supposed to be comforting you.  The
buttons were all off your shirt and it kept sliding open so that your
breasts were right up against me, and I never wanted anyone the way I
wanted you right then.  "

Claire felt dazed, as if she'd stepped into one of her own dreams.

"You kissed me.  Well, almost anyway," she amended , recalling the way
he had used his tongue to make her feel things no one else ever had.
"And then all of a sudden you stopped and I thought it had to be
because of the way I'd kissed you back, because I wasn't good enough or
experienced enough for you to want to bother anymore."

" " Not quite, " Luke replied, a ragged edge to his laugh; " It's true
that I could tell from the way you reacted to my kiss that you weren't
very experienced, but it didn't make q want you any less.  It just
reminded me of why I couldn't do what I wanted to do with you.  And
believe me, back then I wasn't very good at self-denial.  "

"Obviously, you've gotten better," she observed, tearq stinging like
acid as she tried to hold them back.  With everqi word he said, the
knot of dread in her stomach got bigger, She felt as if she'd been
handed the most beautifullq wrapped present she'd ever seen and then
had it ripped awaq before she could even open the ribbon.

"Not a whole lot better," he responded, "so don't push me, okay?  And
don't cry, please, Claire."

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.  "I'm qo1 crying.  I
just think you're wrong.... I think when two people feel what we've
felt, what we still feel, they shouldn'1 shut the door on it: '

"We're not shutting the door, the state penitentiary is: '

Claire tried to turn away from that cold slap of reality.  q

"Face it, Claire," he said, stopping her.  "I have even less to offer
you now than I did back then."

" " It didn't feel like nothing to me, "she retorted, s at the hand he
dragged through his hair, remembering how it had felt moving roughly
over her body.

"Well, that's about all it amounts to.  A few days of and a whole bunch
of regrets."

m not still seventeen years old," she insisted.  " Even t is how it
turns out, I can handle it: iavbe so.  But I can't.  "

dinarily, Claire felt a twinge of regret whenever Luke qiol this time.
It was a physical relief when he returned own room.  She barely heard
his promise to call later t dinner.  Alone, she threw herself on the
sofa and faced rrrent of emotions that were rioting inside her.  ey
were in layers, like the fancy parfaits served at the 's dessert bar,
but not all her layers were sweet.  Some so bitter the bad taste
lingered, running through her qoison.  She hadn't thought her feelings
for Luke could iy more complicated and confusing than they already but
that's exactly what had happened.  en now, excitement and dismay chased
each other around inside her, like puppies vying to be on top.  The re
ion that Luke had actually been attracted to her twelve ago and still
wanted her now brought the sweet, sharp of a dream coming true,
followed immediately by the underlying blow that he had no intention of
doing anything t it.  e wanted to argue with him about the
senselessness of he was doing by allowing himself to be sent to prison
crime he didn't commit.  She wanted to plead with him q them the chance
they should have had years ago and Tm to just this onoe find a way to
temper his heroic side q-qittle selfishness.  her heart, however, she'd
already accepted that Luke 't the kind of man to be argued or pleaded
with or maqqed out of doing what he had made up his mind was qht thing
to do.  Sure she could go ahead and try to rqa tqse against Sherry and
her instincts told her she i!  be proved right.  But where would that
get any of q'She knew in her heart that even if she could some or
seduce Luke into telling the truth about Addison's murder, there was no
way the two of them could ever find happiness by shifting their misery
onto Sherry and her two young children.

The boys had already lost a father.  While no expert on child
psychology, even she undentood that it would be devastating for them if
the mother whom they clearly adored was sent away to prison for
murdering him.  The more she thought about it, the more she was
convinoed that it was concern for them that was motivating Luke.  It
made perfect sense, especially knowing what she did about him and about
his own less than idyllic childhood.

Knowingalso that he wasn't in love with their mother helped her accept
it.  At first, it had seemed to her that he must still be in love with
Sherry, no matter what he claimed to the contrary.  No longer.  She
believed Luke when he told her that whatever he and Sherry had onoe
felt for each other was over, because he had proven that he wasn't able
to look her in the eye and lie.  And because when he'd held her in his
arms, his body had told her without a doubt, that he was not a man in
love with another woman.

She undentood his desire to protect those two little boys.  She even
admired him for it.  But it still wasn't fair, she thought, getting up
and checking the temperature on the air conditioner.  It was so cold in
her room, she couldn't believe it was set where it always was.  It
wasn't the room that had suddenly gone cold, she thought, it was her.

Too late, too late, too late..  The words ran singsong through her
head.  She couldn't shut them out.  The truth was like that, persistent
even when it was unwanted.  It certainly seemed to be true that it was
too late for her and Luke.

Every thought she had seemed to start with "if only."  If only she had
been a little more aggressive at seventeen, or else Luke a little less
honorable now.  If only she had picked up the phone one of those many
times she had thought of him and called and said.  what?  If only she
had come to Atlantic City on vacation and run into him unexpectedly.

They could have gotten together and talked.  Everything would be
exactly like it had been this week, but without the horrible specter of
a murder charge hanging over their heads.

She was a firm believer that even a small-chance occurrence could
dramatically alter the whole course of a life.  If even one of those
things had happened, Luke might not be in the position he was in
now-fac inga prison sentence he didn't deserve.

A sentence of how long?  She tortured herself with the possibilities.
Ten years?  Fifteen?  "Iqventy?  If things didn't go as well as they
expected, if they, in fact, went all wrong, he could be locked up for
the rest of his life.

Fear and anger closed in on her.  What then?  What if, in spite of
Luke's wishes and her own common sense, she couldn't just walk away
from him at the end of this week?  What did he expect her to do?  Smile
and say, "It's been fun.  Call sometime when you're not facing ten to
twenty"

The sensation of a hand closing on her throat sent her looking for her
soda can.  She found it on the coffee table, lifted it to her lips and
put it back without takin ga sip.  She knew if she tried to swallow she
would choke.

What was she going to do?  How was she supposed to just return home and
pick up the pieces of her life as if being here and seeing Luke again
hadn't shaken them up so thoroughly that she wasn't sure how to put
them back together?  Or if she even wanted to?

Would she ever be able to meet a man again without measuring him
against Luke and losing interest?  Would she wait for him?

For how long?  The rest of her life, if it came to that?  Claire
wrapped her arms around herself tightly, tears turning the room into a
kaleidoscope of shapes and colors.  She saw bits and pieces of her
dreams of marriage and a family swirling and breaking apart No, she
couldn't give up the rest of her life because he chose to.

T:

Then how long?  What difference did it make, she thought, trying to
stop herself from this exercise in heartache She couldn't.  She
couldn't stop.  How long?  Ten years?  Yes.  Hadn't she already waited
twelve?  So she could handle twelve years.  Fifteen?  Eighteen?
Twenty?

With one sweep of her hand she sent the soda can flying off the table
and across the room.  She couldn't take this.  She rushed into the
bedroom, yanked her suitcase from the closet and opened it on the bed.
She had to get out of here.  Without thinking of what she was doing she
began grabbing things from drawers and the dressing table and tossing
them into the suitcase.

Bras, panties, slips.

Gerald would be able to continue with the case alone from this point.
If he had a question on something she had handled , he could call her
at the office.

Toothbrush, blow dryer, makeup.

No one would blame her.  Hell, Luke hadn't wanted her here in the first
place.  Half the time she felt as if she were facing two adversaries,
the prosecutor and the client.  It might be a relief to get back to
reading financial statements

She glanced at the half-empty suitcase.  What was she forgetting?

Just her clothes, she realizerl disgustedly, turning toward the
closet.

She pulled suits off hangers, folding them haphazardly, with none of
her usual care.  Each suit stirred memories.  The gray one she had worn
to see Luke in prison for the first time.  The blue one with the very
short skirt that she had intentionally chosen for the day he was
released.  The yellow one..  she hugged the jacket to her chest,
remembering the day they'd sat talking in her car.  She closed her eyes
and could see Luke grinning at her a split second before he leaned over
and..

She forced her eyes open.  Where had this masochistic streak come from
all of a sudden?  As she gave the yellow jacket a shake to line up the
sleeves for folding, something flew from the pocket.

She dropped the jacket in the suitcase and reached for what had fallen.
A puzzle piece.  She turned it over in her hand.  Green on one side,
blue on the other.  It had to have come from the puzzle in Luke's
office, but how had it ended up here?  She remembered picking up a
piece the day she'd met with Brad there.  She must have walked out with
it and stuck it in her pocket without thinking.

She'd have to return it before leaving.  The puzzle appeared
challenging enough without pieces missing.  Whoever heard of a
two-sided puzzle?  she thought, a small, grudging smile breaking out as
she turned the piece over once again.  Trust Luke to find a way to make
the difficult close to impossible.  He was doing the very same thing
with the case against him.

It would all be so simple if she didn't have to deal with his noble
instincts.  If Luke were like any normal client, willing to do or say
anything to be let off, she could simply pursue the case against Sherry
and voila.  he would be a free man.

Iqoild.  She turned the piece over again, watching the con hast of the
color against her palm.  Blue.  Green.  Blue.  Same shape; different
color.  Same piece, but a very different effect when the color
changed.

Claire curled her fingers tightly over the small puzzle piece, feeling
the uneven edge bite into her palm.

She kept rereading those reports, looking for some small key to opening
up Luke's case, but just maybe she didn't need a new key.  Perhaps she
simply needed to take another look at the ones she already had. Perhaps
all she had to do was turn over the pieces she'd found and look at the
other side.

If she tried to prove that it was Sherry who'd killed Nick Addison, she
would only force Luke into a full confession.

He was adamant about going to prison so Sherry wouldn't have to.  So
what if, instead of proving Sherry did it, she proved that she'd had no
choice?

Her body trembled with excitement.

She had no idea why or how Sherry Wakefield had come to shoot her
ex-husband.  Luke hadn't let her get close enough to the facts to find
out.  But even knowing as little as she did, Claire's instincts told
her that it wasn't murder one and it might well have been
self-defense.

She began pulling things out of the suitcase even more frantically than
she had tossed them in.  She needed to get dressed.  And she needed to
find the notes from her interq view with Sherry.

She could never convince Luke not to do everything in his power to
protect Sherry and the boys, but she just might be able to fix things
so Sherry didn't need his protection.  If she was right about this, and
she could prove it, then neither Luke nor Sherry would be going to
prison.

Chapter 9

ire's first impulse was to find out if Sherry was schedto dance at the
Riverboat that night, charge down , and confront her with the truth.  A
tactic that just t work.  She would certainly have the surprise factor
q for her.  On the other hand, it might also prove to be qal mistake. 
e last thing she wanted to do was come across as tryqbully the other
woman, putting her further on the Isive.  It had been obvious when they
spoke that the : subject of her ex-husband and his violent death made
qay uneasy.  With good reason, Claire thought dryly.  q might be able
to spare her the prison sentence murdered with it, but not the guilt.
uldition to her understandable nervousness and reluct to talk about the
death, Sherry had obviously been briefed on the subject by an expert,
Luke.  She would have Gqproached very carefully, and Claire knew from
exIloe that the more information she gathered before qtp bolster the
arguments on her side, the better chance she had of convincing Sherry
that she had her best interests , as well as Luke's, in mind.

Claire cautioned herself that she also had to bear in mind that no
matter how much she wanted to help Luke, until she turned up some
concrete evidence, her suspicions about Sherry were still only that..
suspicions.

The arguments for delaying her talk with Sherry were all very prudent
and reasonable.  Unfortunately, she wasn't feeling particularly prudent
or reasonable..  or patient.  Especially not patient.  She was racing
inside, eager to get started doing whatever it took to prove her theory
right.

The real reason she resisted the urge to confront Sherry immediately
was Luke.  He had an uncanny, and infuriating , sixth sense for knowing
whenever she slipped out of he'd.  room without telling him.  She had
yet to venture out to the gift shop or to stop by the front desk for
something without him showing up a few minutes later.  She'd even begun
to wonder if he had the entire Delta Queen staff spying on her.  It
might be funny if it wasn't such a real possibility; making the idea of
visiting Sherry at work much too risky for now.

Besides, to find out what she needed to know about Sherry and Nick, she
would have to start back at the beginning with their marriage and
divorce.  It wasn't enough t_o prove that Sherry had killed him, she
needed to prove why:

Her years as an attoroey had taught her a new respect for the old adage
about appearances being deceiving, but afber meeting Sherry and seeing
the home she'd made for her lit q the boys, Claire couldn't conceive of
her being a cold-blooded killer.  Knowing that the woman had Luke so
firmqF on her side, only further convinced her that there had to have
been extenuating circumstances surrounding thaq shooting.  If she was
right and Sherry was the one who had picked up that gun and pointed it
at the father of her chq dren, then something had driven her to it. All
Claire had do was figure out what it was and gather the evidence prc in
the First Degree 157 pNince Luke, Sherry, Gerald Rancourt and a jury-in
that der-that she was right.  There were at least a half-dozen maj or
points she needed qplain before anyone would be willing to even listen.
For qrqers, how Sherry had gotten possession of Luke's gun and why she
had gone to Addison's room in the first place.  q realized she had a
lot of ground to cover in less than qjc, especially since she couldn't
let Luke know what she q doing.  But for the first time since arriving
in Atlantic qy, she was free of the subtle, underlying sense of
indirecqt and frustration that had been haunting her.  Even on q new
playing field, she had her old confidence back.  Somehow she was going
to pull this off so that everyone qj,rrged a winner.  She was going to
see to it that Sherry was qred of criminal charges and, hopefully, some
of her own ajt, as well.  Ben and Nicky were going to keep their vow
with them.  And Claire herself was going to see to it qtt she and Luke
finally got the chance they had let pass by twelve years ago. ,qaving
the open suitcase and half of her belongings gCwn across the bed, she
was ready to go only a half hour qCr finding the puzzle piece in her
pocket.  She'd dressed in qto-nonsense gray-and-whibo-striped suit and
hurriedly qeda little makeup.  She wasn't sure, yet, precisely where
she was going or whom she would be seeing-she wouldn't know until she'd
spoken with Brad-but she did underqpd the advantage of power dressing
when you were seekrmation , especially from those who might not be all
eager to talk.  kept her phone call to Luke as brief as possible, ex
that she had a headache and was going to call room for dinner and then
go to bed early.  He didn't try to her mind or prolong the
conversation.  His unusuqqowncast tone lent credence to his comment
that he q a good night's sleep, as well.

If only she could count on that.  Since she couldn't, she weighed her
options and decided to let it drop that she just happened to have
obtained a list of the phone calls he'd made the night of the murder
and that, since he couldn't recall speaking with anyone, she was
planning to check them out herself first thing in the morning.

They hung up, and a few minutes later she heard the door to his room
open and softly close.  Standing with her ear to the wall nearby, she
grinned triumphantly.  She wasn't sure if the headmaster of that school
was about to get a visit or merely a precautionary phone call from a
telephone Luke felt was safe to use.  She only knew that she was about
to make a clean getaway and that for the next few hours, she was
blissfully on her own.

Brad was in his office and more than willing to provide her with
Sherry's former address, the one still listed on Luke's computer file.
At least, it had been there a few daysq ago.  She had her finger
crossed that he hadn't updated it since then.  He hadn't.  What's more,
Brad was even able to cross-reference the date when the file was last
updated with the date on which Sherry began working at the Delta Queen
and assured Claire that Sherry had been living at that address at the
time she was hired.

She recalled Sherry saying that she had returned to Atlantic

City right after separating from her husband because she needed a job,
and Luke had offered to help her find one.  That meant that her neigh
bon at this address might be able to tell Claire something about the
divorce, perhaps about Sherry's state of mind at the time or whether
she'd received any unwanted visits from her soon-to-be ex.

She was prepared to dig deeper, if necessary, to interview people who
knew Sherry and Nick at the time they were still married, as well as
current co-workers and neighbors of Sherry's who might have information
relevant to the days leading up to the murder.  But this was a start.
She finally felt as if she was doing something that mattered, and
contrary to what she'd told Luke, she wasn't a bit tired.

She caught a taxi outside the hotel, leaving her car in the hotel
garage in case Luke checked and also as a safety measure.  She'd
discovered for herself that he hadn't been egaggerating when he told
her the city had its rough side, and she wasn't sure what sort of
neighborhood she would be driving into.  A taxi satisfied her need to
play it safe.

Brad had frowned when he first saw the address and said he wished there
was some way he could get off work and accompany her.  Claire thanked
him for his concern and his warning to be careful, and refrained from
telling him that she actually preferred to go alone.  Sometimes an
extra pair of ears was all it took to discourage a person from
talking.

She handed the slip of paper with the address on it to the taxi driver.
He glanced at it, scratched his head and shrugged as he switched on the
meter.  Leaving the circular drive, they headed west, away from the
boardwalk and the hotels that were strung like a glittering ribbon
against the setting sun.

Just a few blocks from Atlantic Avenue, the streets narrowed , and
tenement houses were lined up like books on a shelf.  Instead of color
coordinated gardens, the only signs of vegetation were the scruffy
clumps of crabgrass growing through the cracks in the sidewalks.  The
absence of air-conditioning was apparent from the windows, with ripped
screens or none at all, left open to catch whatever meager breeze there
was.

This was the side of the city few hotel guests ever saw.  Another
two-sided puzzle, Claire thought-reality as the flip side of fantasy.
Here, gangs of kids roamed the streets and hung out on the corners.
Police cars, cruising by slowly, were a common sight.  Gazing out the
dingy rear window of the taxi at a glass-littered playground, she was
thankful she hadn't attempted to find this place on her own.  But not
nearly as thankful, she suspected, as Sherry must have been the day she
moved away from here.  "The whole area had a grimmer and less friendly
feel than her new neighborhood.

They drove for about ten minutes before the driver pulled to a stop. It
was plenty of time for Claire to speculate about what kind of a
reception she might receive from Sherry's former neighbors.

"Here you go, miss," the driver said, half turning in his seat.

She checked the meter and leaned forward to hand him the fare plus a
tip.  "Thanks."

"You want I should wait?"

"That isn't necessary," she replied, straining to see which of the
three-story houses nearby matched the address.  "I might be awhile."

"I don't think so," he countered, what looked like a smile forming
beneath his scraggly gray beard.  " " Not unless you're planning to do
your praying sitting on the steps there.  Church closes at five, lady.
You want to light yourself a candle, you'll just have to come back
again tomorrow: '

"Church?"  she said, ignoring his remarks as she glanced around.  Sure
enough, across the street, set back from the sidewalk, was an old,
redbrick church.  The steeple was so tall she couldn't see the top of
it from inside the car.  Above the arched front doors was carved the
name St.  Michael's.

"Are you sure this is the right address?"  she asked.

"Sixteen hundred Fairfax.  That's the address you gave me and this here
is it.  St.  Michael's.  Don't worry, you ain't the first gambler who
felt a sudden urge to pray," he added with a sly chuckle.

Claire rolled her eyes and got out without attempting to correct him.

"So you want me to wait or what?"

She glanced up and down the street, spy inga market on the next corner.
There would have to be a telephone there she could use to call for a
ride back to the hotel when she was through.

"No, thanks, I'm all set," she told the driver, stepping back quickly
as he took off with a squeal of rubber on asphalt

Alone, she glanced around, hoping to see someone she could ask to
verify the address.  It was just her luck to end up on what seemed to
be the only street for blocks without people gathered on their front
steps.  Where were all those patrol can now?

"Can I help you, miss?"

She turoed in the direction of the voice and noticed a man sitting in a
rocking chair in a corner of a porch.  He looked !  to be in his
seventies.  Belatedly she caught the fragrant drift of his pipe
smoke.

"I hope so," she said.  She quickly told him that she was looking for
an address a friend had given her and that it had turn out to be a
church.

"This is Fairfax Street, right?"  she asked him.

"Sure is.  You say you're looking for sixteen hundred?"

"That's right.  At least I thought it was right.  Maybe my friend
copied the address down wrong.  I know it can't be a church I'm looking
for."

The old man slowly got to his feet and crossed the porch to lean on the
front railing, squinting at her over the pipe clamped between his teeth
as she stood in the light from a nearby streetlight.  " " You one of
those women?  "

Claire stared back at him, perplexed.  "Which women are you referring
to?  "

"Never mind.  Whoever you are, you look safe enough to me.  Sixteen
hundred is the convent.  Go down that there !  alley and around the
back," he directed, pointing across the street.  "You can't miss it."

"Thank you," she said, hurrying in the direction he indicated.

A convent?  She supposed it was possible.  Perhaps the nuns had taken
Sherry in as an act of charity.  Or maybe they rented out spare rooms
to women in need.  She just wondered if the good sisters would be more
or less likely to answer the questions she needed to ask.

Behind the church she found a rambling old house that in the darkness
looked to be vaguely Victorian and in need of repair.  There was only
one light on in the back of the first floor, while the windows of the
second and third stories were ablaze.  Except for the small fleet of
tricycles gathered by the steps, the place could easily pass for a
convent.

Nuns on trikes?  Claire mused as she concentrated on navigating the
overgrown, unlit pathway to the steps.  Nah.

Only then did she see the young woman sitting on the top step.  Rather,
she saw the red nub of the lit cigarette in her hand.  It wasn't until
the woman stood up and flicked the cigarette into some bushes that
Claire realized she was hold inga baby and had a toddler beside her.
Their silhouettes were huddled together in the darkness.

"Come on," the young woman said, reaching for the child's hand.

Claire was puzzled by the urgency in her tone.  She'd seemed content
enough to enjoy her smoke a minute ago.

"But, Mommy, I'm still-"

"I said move, Samantha," the woman snapped.

"Excuse me," Claire said, "can you..."

That was as much as she was able to get out before the three of them
disappeared inside the house and the heavy door slammed behind them.
Claire heard the bolt being jammed into place.  How very hospitable.

She marched up the fronts steps.  The place was so damn dark she
couldn't even find the doorbell and had to settle for banging on the
front door.  She kept banging until someone finally opened it.

"Yes?"  said a different woman than the one whom she'd scared off the
steps.

She only opened the door a few inches, and her two handed grip on the
old wood remained unabashedly firm,

as if she was expecting someone to storm the gate.  Claire would like
to see the person foolish enough to try.  There was nothing vulnerable
or timid about this woman, or nun like either, for that matter.  She
was tall and slim, with intense dark eyes that were themselves a
warning not to try and slip anything past her.  Her salt-and-pepper
hair was cut stylishly short and set off by large, gold hoop
earrings.

Even through the narrow opening she permitted, Claire was able to
glimpse in the background the young woman who'd fled from her a minute
ago.  She was still holding the baby in her arms, and the little girl's
face was buried against her legs.  It was dark inside the convent, as
well, but no place would have been dark enough to hide the expression
of sheer terror on the woman's face, and in a flash Claire understood
everything.  The old man asking if she was one of "those women," the
presence of tricycles outside a convent , the house's unwelcoming air
V'qsiton weren't welcome here.  Especially visitors of the surprise
variety.

"Yes, I'm sure you can help me," she said to the woman at the door.  "I
hope you will.  My name is Claire Mackenzie I'm an attorney and I'd
like to talk with you about a woman who stayed here for a while about
two years ago.  Her name is Sherry Wakefield and-"

"I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name."

"Please," Claire countered, placinga cautionary hand on the door before
it could be shut in her face.  "I know full well what I'm up against
here.  I just figured out that this place is a shelter for battered
women and that you can't afford to trust strangers who show up at the
door unannounced But if you'll just hear me out, I'm sure you'll see
that I'm not-"

"I'm sorry," the woman said again.  This time her grip prevailed and
Claire found herself staring at a solid expanse of wooden door.

"Drat," she muttered, giving it a small kick.  She'd wager it wasn't
the first or by any means the fiercest kick the old door had endured.
Which is why she couldn't fault anyone for not welcoming her, or any
stranger, through it with open arms.

She still had to find a way to get inside and talk with someone who
might have been here two years ago.  The fact that Sherry had spent
time at a battered women's shelter proved she was on the right track.
Her frustration at being turned away was more than tempered by a fresh
surge of hope.

She knew enough about the running of shelters and the people who
dedicated themselves to them to know that neither the police nor the
courts could force them to tell her anything they didn't want to tell.
She had to do this on their terms, by their rules, and that meant
winning their trust through the intervention of someone they already
trusted.

Luke came to mind.  He must have had some contact with the shelter if
he was the one who urged Sherry to return to Atlantic City.  Claire
would prefer not to involve him in any of this, however, until she was
prepared to present her case in full, with all the puzzle pieces in pl
are If Sherry had taken refuge in a shelter for battered women, it
meant her marriage and divorce had not been as harmonious as she
claimed and it might well lead to a motive for her to shoot Addison.

Claire tried to slow the racing of her heart by reminding herself that
she still only had suspicion on her side.  Right now she had to find
someone else to act as a go-between for her.  It wasn't until she'd
trudged to the corner market and dropped her quarter into the telephone
slot that it occurred to her that the person she needed might already
be on her team.  If not, he might be able to put her in touch with
someone who could help.

She reached Gerald by beeper and waited impatiently until he returned
her call, purchasinga can of soda, a candy bar and small bag of
chocolate chip cookies to appease the scowling clerk.  Some dinner, she
thought wryly.

"What's up?"  Gerald asked by way of greeting.

"I need your help," she replied.  "I think I've put this whole thing
together, who killed Addison and why Luke is so determined to take the
fall for it: '

"You still think this guy is innocent, huh?"

"More than ever.  Just listen, Gerald."

She quickly ran through her version of things, bringing him right up to
the slammed door of the convent.

"You're right about it be inga shelter," he confirmed.  "The convent
had been empty for a few years when the priests at St.  Michael's
decided to convert it into a place for battered women."

"

" Can you help me get inside?  " she asked.

"Maybe."  That was enough to make Claire's spirits soar.  "The woman
you described is Mona Kurtz.  She's the director She's been there
forever, it seems, and she's a real tough mother hen."

"Do you know her?  Are you friends?"  she asked excitedly

"We worked together fauly closely on an assault case a few yean back.
But friends?  I doubt Mona has any.  She's too single-minded.  I'll
give her a call and see what I can do about getting her to see you, but
I have to warn you, Claire, Mona's first loyalty is to those women."

They made arrangements for her to wait there until he tried contacting
Mona and got back to her.  Claire hung up, very aware that he had used
the same words the old man had, those women.  It sounded so isolating,
as if a woman became part of some subspecies of humanity simply by
virtue of the fact that the man in her life proved to be abusive.

Her own life had been blessedly free of violence.  She'd never even
been spanked as a child.  The closest she'd ever come to experiencing
violence firsthand was that night in the parking lot of the Phantom,
and then no one had actually struck her.  Even so, the feeling of utter
helplessness, of being at the mercy of someone bigger and stronger who
could hurt you or rape you or kill you if he chose to, was something
she could still taste.  It was her connection to the women at St.
Michael's.

And to Sherry Wakefield, she realized.  Perhaps to women everywhere
who'd been reduced to hiding behind locked doors..  in their homes or
their hearts.

As different as her experience was, in some small way, she thought,
being the victim of a man's aggression made her one of "those women,"
too.  Until that moment, her desire to prove Sherry had been justified
in killing Addison had been fueled almost entirely by her concern for
Luke.  Suddenly that changed.  She still wanted desperately to keep
Luke from going to prison, but she also wanted to help Sherry for her
own sake.

It was another candy bar, a pack of gum and a People Magazine before
Gerald called back.  By the time the phone rang she'd read about all
the latest Hollywood parties, learned what oelebrities were in rehab
clinics and which child star was suing his parents for mismanagement.

"What did she say?"  she asked Gerald anxiously.

"She said she'll see you.  It wasn't easy," he added, "especially when
she got the impression you were looking to get a man off the hook..  :
" "Gerald !  " she wailed.

"Calm down.  I explained everything and it turns out she remembers Luke
from the time he brought Sherry there and came around to check on her.
Mona's a little one dimensional , but deep down she's good people.  She
doesn't want to see anyone-not even a man-" he added with wry emphasis
, "have to pay for something he didn't do."

Claire thanked Gerald and hurried back to St.  Michael's Convent.  She
took the fact that a light had been turned on over the front door to be
a good sign.  This time Mona appeared almost as soon as she knocked.
She still didn't smile , however.

"Come in, Ms.  Mackenzie," she said in invitation.  A light had been
turned on inside, as well, dispelling the aura of gloom that had been
Claire's first impression.  The walls in the front hall were painted
pale pink and a worn oriental runner in shades of faded cherry and blue
covered an equally worn hardwood floor.  "I'm Mona Kurtz."

Claire extended her hand.  "Thank you for seeing me, Ms.  Kurtz: The
director's formality demanded the same, although the name Mona fit her
so well, it was hard for Claire to think of her as anything else.

"If you'll follow me, we can talk privately in my office," she said,
leading Claire to a small room at the back of the house.

Claire did not see anyone else along the way, although the sounds of
footsteps, children laughing and a baby crying filtered down from the
floor above.

Her first thought upon entering the small office was that it reflected
Mona well, Spartan and no-nonsense with its metal desk and file cabinet
and highly polished black and white tile floor.  Then, as she slipped
into the seat across from the desk, she happened to turn her head and
noticed the wall behind her, the wall Mona must see every time she
looked up.  It was covered with children's drawings-crayon colored
pictures of houses and families and rainbows.  Lots of rainbows, Claire
noted.  It was a mosaic of hopes and dreams, and it told her all she
needed to know about the woman regarding her so sternly from across the
desk.

"Mr.  Rancourt explained your reason for wanting to see me," she said.
"Ordinarily I would reject out of hand your request for information
about one of the women we've helped in the past.  But as I see it, this
situation with Sherry has very troubling implications."

"I agree," Claire replied.  "And I do appreciate you agreeing to meet
with me to discuss it."

"I should warn you that I tried contacting Sherry after your first
visit here this evening and wasn't able to get through to her at work.
My policy is to inform all women of any inquiries about them and ask
them how they would like the matter to be handled.  The only reason I'm
making an exception in this case and agreeing to speak with you
before

I hear from Sherry is because Mr.  Rancourt impressed upon me how very
much time is of the essence here.  "

Good old Gerald, Claire thought.  "That's true," she agreed, not
mentioning that it was Luke and not the courts who made it so.

"I remember Mr.  Cabrio very well," Mona continued, " " so I was
greatly disturbed when I read the news of his arrest in the paper.  He
appeared to be something I see all too rarely in my work-a decent man:
" " When you read of his arrest, were you aware that Nick Addison, the
man he's accused of killing, was Sherry Wakefield's ex-husband?  "

A look of distaste puckered her lips.  "Oh, yes, very aware.  Mr.
Addison was not the sort you forget: '

"Why is that?"

"The man was a snake, pure and simple," she retorted.

"Can you tell me why you had that impression?"

Mona's lips thinned.  "I'll do better.  I'll tell you about the
ono-and-only time I had the displeasure of meeting the man, and you
draw your own conclusions about him: '

Claire nodded.

"Somehow he had gotten the phone number here, and he'd been calling and
making threats for days," Mona bogan'I remember how terrified Sherry
was, convinced that it was only a matter of time until he found her and
the boys.  She was right.  I was out at a meeting when he showed up and
somehow smooth-talked his way past the young woman who answered the
door" Her eyes narrowed.  " Did you know Mr.  Addison?  "

"No, I didn't: '

She flipped open a manila folder on the desk in front of her and
riffled through the contents until she found the photograph she was
looking for and pushed it across the desk toward Claire.

"That was Nick Addison at his finest," she drawled, "all white teeth
and phony smiles."

" " This must have been taken early in their marriage, " Claire
remarked, closely studying the picture of what appeared to be a very
happy couple.  " Sherry looks so young here.  "

"She is young," Mona retorted.  "But her last few years have been hard
ones."

Claire recalled a similar comment that Luke had made about the
differences between himself and Brad.  She continued to stare at the
picture.  The single newspaper photograph of Addison that she'd seen
prior to this hadn't done him justice, she realized.  He had been an
extremely handsome man, blond and broad-shouldered, with a dazzling
smile that did indeed dominate his face.  Maybe it was simply because
she wanted to believe the worst about him, but even in a photograph she
could detect something calculat-.  inga bout that smile, a smugness
that made it easy to accept

Mona's characterization of him as a snake.

"He was a salesman, you know," Mona told her, "so smooth-talking was
his forte."

"Did Sherry speak with him the day he came here?"

"Yes, she agreed to see him.  As I said, I was out when he arrived, but
by all accounts he was extremely charming, right up until the moment
when Sherry made it clear she and her sons would not be leaving with
him: Mona's jaw tightened'I arrived in time to see him dragging her
down the front steps by her hair, poor little Ben screaming and doing
his best to hold onto her "

Claire shuddered as she pictured the scene.  "How awful : '

"I managed to take hold of Ben.  When Addison saw me , he let go of
Sherry in order to try to grab him from me.  In the process, Sherry
tripped and hit her head on the concrete step at the bottom, hurting
herself so badly it took over twenty stitches to close the gash in her
scalp."

"So she was seen by a doctor?"  Claire inquired, instinctively thinking
of documenting the incident for the court.

"Oh yes," Mona replied with a small smile.  She tapped the folder.
"It's all here-photos, statements, a copy of the arrest report."

"Addison was arrested?"

" " Yes, indeed.  I think the sight of all that blood made him too
scared to run away.  " There was a glassy brightness to her eyes as her
smile tightened.  " He had tears in his eyes when the police arrived
and he told them that he hadn' tmeant any harm to anyone, that he
simply loved his Sherry too much to let her go.  " Her small laugh was
brittle.  " I can tell you that it was enough to make this old maid
glad to be one.  "

"You said that you only met Nick Addison once.  Does that mean he never
attempted to see Sherry after that day?"

"Not here, he didn't.  I think he knew better," she said with grim
satisfaction.  " " As part of the deal to drop the assault charges he
agreed to go ahead with the divorce, and Sherry was able to leave here
and find a little place for her and the boys.  That wasn't the end of
it, though.  I spoke with her as recently as a few months ago and could
tell he was still in the picture..  and not in a good way, if you know
what I mean.  "

"I'm not sure I do.  Do you mean he was still being abusive to her?  "
"" I'm sure of it..  although Sherry never really opened up to me or
anyone here about what she had gone through..  what she was still going
through, evidently.  After she and the boys left, I kept in touch as
best I could.  I kept trying to convince her that she should see
someone professionally.  We have a list of top-notch therapists who
devote their time to the women who need them.  I told her she should
get everything out in the open and come to terms with it before she
could truly make a fresh start: '

"But you're not sure whether she ever followed up on your advice by
seeing one of these therapists?"

Mona shook her head.  "Not as far as I know.  And she'll need to see
someone now more than ever, no matter how things got to this point: '

"Ms.  Kurtz, you said you remember Luke Cabrio?"

"Very well: She again shuffled through the pa pen in the file, this
time producing a photocopy of Luke's driver's license' We used this for
identification purposes whenever he came to visit Sherry... which was
frequently.  He always brought a little surprise for the boys, a small
toy or a book: '

Claire glanced at the photocopy with Luke's full name typed beneath the
small photograph.  Lucas Benjamin Cabrio Funny, she'd never known his
full name.  It was only one of hundreds of little things she didn't
know about him.  Was it possible to fall in love with a man and then
wait twelve years to get to know all the reasons you loved him?  Yes,
she thought rebelliously.  It was possible.  She'd done it.  "simply a
deoent man," Mona was saying, drawing her back to the subject at hand.
"And a good friend to Sherry."

"Did you know the exact nature of their relationship?"  Claire asked,
leaning slightly forward in her seat.

"Friends," Mona said, shrugging.  "As far as I knew they were friends.
But as I said, Sherry wasn't one to advertise her business."

"Do you think Luke was close enough to Sherry, that he cared enough for
her, to kill her ex-husband if he believed she was in some kind of
danger?"

"I really couldn't comment on that.  I knew him so superficially , you
understand: '

"Of course.  How about Sherry herself, do you think she was capable of
killing him?"

"I think that under the right circumstanoes, any one of us is capable
of killing.  From what I saw, Addison's treatment of her more than
provided the right circumstances.  If Sherry did kill him, it was
because he drove her to it.  That I believe with all my heart and that
I will gladly swear to in any court you name."

"You may get the chance," Claire told her.  "I don't have all the
facts, yet, by any means, but I believe it's possible that Sherry
killed Nick in self-defense after years of abuse, and that Luke was
caught at the scene when he went there to protect her, and that he's
protecting her now, too, by taking the fall for it so that she won't
have to."

"If Sherry is sent to prison, her children will be without a father or
mother "

"I've thought of that," she said sadly.

"But if she doesn't stand trial, an innocent man will surely go in her
place."

Claire could only manage a nod.  " " And so the suffering caused by one
man's obsession goes on and on," Mona murmured, her expression weary as
she closed her eyes briefly and shook her head.

"I hope not," Claire said.  "I hope that I can work this out so that no
one has to suffer any more than they already have."

"I'll help in any way I can," Mona said.  "Provided..  : "

" Provided?"

"That Sherry approves.  I make no secret of it, Ms.  Mackenzie, and no
apologies.  Sherry is my first conoern and will remain so: '

"That's fair enough.  She deserves to have someone like you on her
side."

Surprise flickered in the other woman's eyes, followed by a subtle
softening of her expression.  "I'm thankful you're able to understand.
So many people don't.  I will promise you this, however-that I'll do
everything in my power to convince Sherry to own up to anything she may
have done."

"I'm glad to hear that: '

"Violence is never to be condoned, but if she shot that man, I assure
you it was an act of courage, not malice, and she will need to have
that courage validated, by her friends and family and by the powers
that be, if it comes to it.  If she doesn't, if she allows the shame
and guilt and secrecy that have sunounded her for so long to continue
festering inside her own heart, then I'm afraid the anguish that lies
ahead for her will be far worse than anything she endured at the hands
of her ex-husband."

Claire agreed wholeheartedly.  She only hoped that when the time came,
she could express it half as eloquently and convincingly to Luke.

"I'm sure you're right," she said.

"It won't be easy for her, I know that.  But every time a woman stands
up and fights back, it makes it that much easier for the next woman,
and the next.  IYs the only way we'll ever turn this nightmare
around."

"At least Sherry's not alone," Claire responded.  "I have a feeling
that with your help, Ms.  Kurtz, we can see to it that this is one
fight she wins."

The other woman smiled.  "Please," she said, "call me Mona: '

Chapter 10

Claire continued to talk with Mona Kurtz for over an hour before she
finally asked to use the phone to call for a taxi.  Throughout their
conversation it was clear that Mona was eager to help with the case,
not only because of her concern for Sherry, and for Luke, as well, but
because of a deeper conviction that through understanding what had
happened to Sherry, people would have a better understanding of the
plight of other women who were still trapped in similar situations

She was a dedicated and impassioned spokesperson for her cause, and
Claire couldn't help but be impressed by her loyalty to the women she
served.  At no time during their meeting did Mona betray Sherry's
confidence or reveal anything that she had not heard or witnessed
firsthand.  AI though she didn't offer to let Claire examine the
contents of Sherry's file without her permission, she did confide that
it contained photos of Sherry taken when she'd arrived at the shelter,
showing her bruised and swollen and with a broken arm that had not been
set.  There was, she assured Claire,

her lips thinning with anger, ample evidenq of the years of abuse.

She also made it clear that the release of the folder and any further
cooperation on her part depended on what Sherry herself ultimately
decided to do.  Claire suspq that no matter how much evidence she
produced, Luke would feel much the same way.  Since she couldn't pull
this off without their help, she really had no choice but to respect
their wishes.  The evening had convinced her that her suspicions about
Sherry were right and filled her with optimism , but as much as she
longed to share that with Luke, she understood that the next person she
spoke with had to be Sherry.  Like it or not, this was her call to
make.

It was after eleven when she returned to the hotel, unconsciously
stepping lightly as she passed Luke's door.  She let herself into her
own suite with a sigh of relief and headed straight for the bedroom.
Suddenly she was feeling every bit as exhausted as she had claimed to
be when she called Luke earlier.

She flipped the first of the three wall switches located just inside
the bedroom and light from above softly illuminated the wide hallway
area outside the triple width closet, leaving the rest of the room in
shadows.  Sliding open the mirrored closet doors, she hurriedly hung up
her jacket and slipped off her blouse and skirt.  Her slip and panty
hose she relegated to the laundry bag and dressed only in her bra and
panties she reached for her nightgown on the hook where she'd left
it.

"Don't bother," came the gravelly order from somewhere behind her.

Claire froze.  A giant lump erupted in her throat, making it impossible
to breathe as her heart began to pump furiously Clasping the nightgown
to her chest, she whirled instinctively toward the voice, recognition
coming almost before she identified the dark shadow sprawled in the
chair in the corner.

" " Luke, " she breathed, relief and anger surging through her in equal
amounts.  " What the hell are you doing here?  "

"Waiting for you," he replied, making no attempt to rouse himself.  He
was slouched deep in the easy chair, his long legs fully extended so
that his feet rested on the desk chair he'd obviously moved closer for
that purpose.  He wasn't wearing shoes or socks.

"In the dark?"  she demanded.

"It suits my mood tonight: '

"I see.  Well, make yourself right at home, why don't you?"  she
invited, heavy on the sarcasm as she waved her hand in the direction of
his bare feet.

"Thanks, I did."

She noticed a tendril of smoke curling upward from a cigarette in the
hand he held draped over the arm of the chair and chided herself for
being so preoccupied she hadn't sniffed it sooner.

"I didn't know you smoked," she remarked.  She was trying to remain
composed, or at least appear to be so.  It wasn't easy when she was
standing there in only her underwear , with what now felt like a
thousand-watt spotlight aimed at her from above.  And skimpy underwear
at that, she thought, suddenly regretting her secret passion for hiding
the sexiest lingerie she could find beneath the conservative suits her
job required her to wear.  Judging by the fact that Luke's gaze was
burning as hotly as the cigarette in his hand, her secret was out.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," he drawled.

"I won't argue with that: '

"You don't argue at all, do you, Claire?"  he countered, getting to his
feet and grinding the cigarette out in the ashtray beside him.  "You
just smile and speak softly and then go ahead and do exactly as you
damn well please, right?"

She stared at him in silence, weighing her options.

"Right?"  he repeated, his tone turoing harsh and impatient

Her gaze strayed to the bedside table, to the empty glass and half-full
bottle of Scotch that didn't belong to her.  " " Have you been
drinking?  "

"Not so you'll notice, I promise you," he retorted.

She had to admit that he didn't sound drunk, and the path he followed
as he crossed the room was as straight as any highway line she'd ever
seen.  In fact, there was something menacing in his stride.  She was
debating takin ga step backward, into the closet, when he stopped just
inches away from her.

"Right?"  he asked again, more softly.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about

"I'm talking about the fast one you pulled on me tonight You knew that
dropping that bait about the phone calls would have me chasing my tail,
trying to head you off before you had a chance to follow up on it
yourself tomorrow"

She gave a one-shouldered shrug.  "Practicinga little advance damage
control,

"You bet your sweet-" He broke off.  "But I was too late.  It seems
Brad had already checked out the number for you: '

"Really?  I don't recall."

"Cut the crap.  The kid's gotten pretty damned fond of you, Angel.  Not
to mention loyal.  I couldn't pry a word out of him about where you'd
taken off to tonight.  But I know him well enough to read his mind on
some things and I know that he'd already told you all about my
conversation with the headmaster at Brighton Academy.  So the question
is, why was it so important for you to give me the slip tonight that
you were willing to let me in on the alibi angle you've been playing so
close to the vest?"

Her eyes betrayed her surprise.

"I figured it out yesterday," he informed her.  "Your mind isn't quite
as easy to read as Brad's, but where you're concerned, I pay a whole
lot more attention."

"If you knew I was trying to put together an alibi for you, why didn't
you cooperate?  Why didn't you tell me yourself that you had been on
the phone with this man around the time of the murder?"

"Because coming up with an alibi is your fantasy, not mine "

"

" Then why"

"It doesn't matter" He cut in without waiting to hear what she had to
say.  "Where were you tonight, Claire?"

"I can't tell you.  Not yet, Luke.  I'm working on some.  thing, but
I'm just not ready to talk about it, yet: " "All right: '

"All right?"  she echoed, startled by his utterly uneqcpected
acquiescence.

"Where you were doesn't really matter, either.  All that matters is
that you're here now, safe ... and real," he added, his voioe soft and
deep as he reached out and lightly brushed his hands along her arms, as
if to prove to himself that he was right-she was real.  He was in a
strange mood, Claire thought.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?"  he asked her.

"I'm sorry you worrierl.  There was really no need to."

His laugh had a cynical edge.  "Yes, there was.  There was definitely a
need to worry.  I needed to worry.  Did you really expect me to order
room service and go to sleep when you were out there somewhere, alone,
hurt maybe, or in trouble" " " I wasn't- "

"You could have been.  That was enough.  It's all I could think about.
I couldn't eat or sleep..  : '

"Just drink?"  she interjected, glancing at the bottle of Scotch.

q q. "Believe me, Angel, I couldn't even do that the way I q rjqqed to.
I checked with Sherry at the Riverboat, thinking qou might have gone
back to talk with her "

Claire silently thanked God she hadn't.  What a wasted fight that would
have been.

"She said she'd hadn't seen you all night, and after that,

I didn't know where the hell to look.  You might as well have been in a
different universe, and I kept telling myself, "Get tqaed to it, pal,
because this is just a preview of what it's go #pg to be like when you
locked up in some hole and she's " taut.  A whole lot of nights of
wondering where you are "= and who you're with, if you're happy or
upset, if you've forgotten all about me."

"I won't forget you," she said quietly.  "Not ever " His dark eyes
flashed a warning.  " " You should: q 'qLuloe, this is crazy.  We still
have time.  Maybe it will qqrqc out and none of this will even happen.
Maybe.  : 'qYeah, maybe.  But maybe it will happen just this way.  I
qtly lmow one thing for sure.  " There was a quiet, but desqaabe
firmness in the sound of his voioe.  His gaze heated as q q q on her
bare shoulders and the hollow between her , which was only emphasized
by the way she was her nightgown in front of her.  Undercurrents of
stirred between them, and inside Claire there was first small flutber
of understanding of what was to come.  " The know I was wrong this
afternoon," Luke continued gently.  " Wrong to walk out on you because
of some crazy tlfqat us ma lang love would only make it harder to be
you laber.  I know now that nothing could be harder not being able to
see you..  touch you..  : =q qras furious with you for leaving me like
that selfish.  I was trying to protect you, too.  " q, Luke, the whole
world doesn't always need your I don't always need it.  Sometimes I
need..  : her dqOpped self-consciously " .  other things.  "

Comprehension gleamed in his eyes.  "I know.  I did a lot of thinking
about those other things tonight.  Hell, I did a lot of thinking about
you, period.  I sat here and I kept picturing the way you push your
hair back when you're annoyed and how you curl your bottom lip out when
you're upset and"

"I do not curl my lip.  Ever."

His smile was lazy and intimate.  In spite of her protest, Claire
couldn't help being thrilled by the thought that he was learning little
things about her, too.  There were so many little things to learo, for
both of them.  Did he know her middle name?  she wondered.  Her
favorite color?  That she sprinkled salt on her watermelon and
collected old 45 records ?  It wasn't fair, damn it.  They needed more
time.

"Yeah, you do," he told her.  He touched her lip with the pad of his
thumb, sending shivers through her.  "But don't worry, I like the way
you curl it."

"What a relief."

He grinned.  "Would you like to know what else I thought about sitting
here in the dark?"

"Yes: '

"I thought about driving you home from the Phantom that night and how
good it felt to have you on the back of my bike, your arms wrapped
around me tight, and how I wanted to ride by your house and keep right
on riding.  I wonder what would have happened if I had: '

"My father probably would have had you charged with kidnapping and
statutory rape."

He shrugged.  "Couldn't be any worse than how I ended

The bleak wistfulness in his tone made Claire wish she could give him a
reason to hope.  But his notion of a reason to hope and hers were still
different, and she was afraid to show her hand prematurely.  " " And I
thought about the way you feel and the way you smell-sweet, like
walking through a garden in the summer, he went on, drawing her from
her thoughts with his words and the movement of his hands on her
shoulders.  "and I thought about kissing you.  I thought a lot about
that, and about how soft you felt against my fingers... the softest
thing I've ever felt, and then that was it.  I was out of memories.  So
I just sat there and kept replaying what I had, and after about a
hundred times I knew one thing for sure... if I have to live my life
without you, I want more to remember: '

His grip on her shoulders tightened and Claire trembled all the way to
her toes.

"I want all of you, Angel," he continued softly.  "I don't want to let
them lock me up with a bellyful of regrets, and then have to spend the
rest of my life the way I've spent the last twelve years-wishing I had
done things differently with you when I had the chance."

The yearning in his voice amazed her as much as his words.  "I had no
idea.  I never expected you would even remember me, never mind have
regrets: " "Now you know.  I wanted to make love to you then, and I
want to make love to you now, Claire.  Tonight.  All night: '

"Oh, Luke..  : '

"Tell me you want it, too."

It wasn't something she had to think about.  This was preordained, the
decision made yean ago.  She believed that with all her heart.

"I do want it," she whispered, lifting her hands to his face.  "I want
you.  I always have.  You have to know that, Luke."

He kissed her palms, tasting her with his tongue and closing his eyes
briefly as if she was a pleasure to be savored' Tell me one thing
first.  " " "Anything: '

"This work you're doing..."

Claire froze.  No.  Don't let him be pretending, lying, using her
feelings for him to get her to reveal what she'd been doing tonight.

"This business of you being my lawyer," he opened.

"Does that matter to you?"  ; "Matter?"  When his thumbs stroked her
jaw the way they were doing now, nothing else mattered.

"Mmm.  Is it going to bother your conscience later if we make love?"

Claire laughed with relief.  "Not at all.  Technically, I'm not your
lawyer."  i q "Technically.  Is that good enough?"

It was.  For tonight, it was.  As seriously as she took her career,
Claire doubted anything could have stopped her from making love with
Luke now that she knew he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

She nodded.  "It's enough."

"Good.  Then come here."  He wound her nightgown around his hand to
draw her closer, then pulled it from her grasp and tossed it aside.
"You won't be needing that tonight : '

Before Claire could react, he spun her around and backed her up against
the wall opposite the closet.  When he leaned into her she could sense
the nighYs accumulation of fear and frustration simmering just beneath
the surface of his desire, and how hard he was fighting for control.

The mirrored closet doors reflected the image of her slender frame
pressed tightly to his broader, rangier body.

She was stunned by the sight of them together, Luke looming over her,
wear inga black T shirt and faded jeans, while she was barely covered
by the brightly flowered demi-bra and panties.  The contrast was wildly
erotic.  She probably ought to be shocked, she thought, or at least
uncomfortable But she wasn't.  Far from it.  She was excited, aroused,
every muscle in her body primed with anticipation.

Even more exciting was the sensation of his clothed body rubbing
against her bare flesh, and for endless moments as he moved slowly
against her, that was all she could feel..  the heat coming off him and
the tremors under her skin as every part of her was awakened by his
touch.  She wasn't tireq any longer, either.

Shetipped her head back against the wall and stared into the mirror
from beneath half-lowered lids.  Beneath Luke's T shirt, she could see
the rippling movement of the muscles across his strong back.  His
biceps flexed and released and flexed again as his hands roamed over
her, his touch light and fleeting as he discovered just some of the
places where she longed to be touched by him.  She saw the gentle
rocking motion of his hips and felt the melting it started between her
thighs, and she could only guess what it was costing him to be so
gentle.

It was the first time she had ever watched a man making love to her,
and she couldn't look away.  Watching made her feel sexy, decadently
so, and gloriously alive.  Her gaze followed the movement of his hands
as they sought hers.  He interlaced their fingers and then pinned her
hands to the wall on either side of her head.  The weight of his body
held her still as he released the front catch of her bra and let it
fall to the floor.

His eyes went smoky and her throat went dry as he leaned back and
stared at her breasts.  When her hands began to fall to her sides, he
caught them, pressing them back against the wall.  Claire felt no urge
to resist.  Slowly, his head dipped and then his mouth was on her, hot,
wet, drawing her out of herself and into a world that began and ended
with Luke, with the fierce strength hovering just beneath his
tenderness , the blended scent of fine soap and good Scotch that clung
to him tonight, the ragged cadence of his breathing.

Her hands cradled his head where it was bent to her breast, his hair
slipping like silk between her fingers, the dampness at the back of his
neck signaling the frantic rise of his own desire.  She moaned softly
as his teeth closed on her and she let her eyes drift shut.  Darkness
intensified the sensations that were streaming in a fiery path to her
core and then radiating out again, making all of her vibrate with
growing pleasure.

Luke straightened suddenly.  Claire's eyes flew open and their gazes
locked and stayed that way as he hooked the back of her neck and drew
her to him, kissing her at last, a wild, hungry kiss, opening her mouth
wide, his tongue stroking deeply, making her senses dance out of
control.

She felt as if she'd been rid inga roller coaster as it slowly, slowly
climbed to the top of the track.  With each careful caress, each hot
tug at her breast, Luke had wound a little tighter the heated coil of
desire crouched inside her.  Now the ruthless passion of his kiss
pushed her all the way to the summit.

She hovered there, a little breathless, a little frightened by the
unfamiliar intensity of her own response.  It had never been this way
for her.  With other men, as with everything in her life, she had
always been restrained and in control of her own desire.  The problem
was that, with Luke, restraint had never been a viable option.  Now she
was quickly moving past desire to need, clinging to him as he pushed
her closer and closer to the storm that waited.

He kissed her cheeks and jaw and the soft place behind her ear.

"Ah, hell," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers between words.
"I planned to go so slowly with you.  I promised myself I would hold
back... make the first time the best, make it last, but damn it, I
can't."

His mouth devoured hers.  Claire could taste the searing need in him
and feel his frustration at the way it was driving him, and she
understood.  Understanding brought her a measure of control over the
desire that had been so close to flaring out of bounds.

Luke had said he wanted a memory.  Well, she was going to give him one.
And more.  She would give him a reason to fight.  When this night was
over, Luke would know exactly what he was sacrificing when he chose
prison over justice.

"Slow down," she whispered as his hands raced over her, bruising in
their hurry to possess.  i "I can't," he told her again, his tone a raw
reflection of the urgency that was riding him hard.  "God help me'I
can't."

"I can," she countered softly, taking hold of his wrists and pulling
him across the room.  "Come with me."

She stopped beside the bed, quickly sweeping it clear of the suitcase
and clothes she'd left there earlier, and then turning to face him.
When he reached for her, she gently brushed his hands aside.  ;
Wordlessly she slipped her hands inside his shirt and began working it
up.  His chest was hard, muscle over bone, muscle that tensed beneath
her palms.  The hair that grew there was black and curly, the feel of
it so deliciously masculine that she spent much longer than necessary
removing his shirt.

"Please lift your arms," she said at last.

He did as she asked, his eyes watchful, curious, a little qused.  ,

That would change, Claire thought confidently as she tossed his shirt
aside and reached for his belt.  She opened it, then undid the button
at the waist of his jeans and lowered the zipper.  When the jeans were
off, she looked at him with ; blatant appreciation.  He was lean and
hard and fully aroused.  She couldn't resist the urge to caress him,
drizzling her fingers the length of his shaft, letting the heaviness
below rest in her cupped palm.

"Touching you makes it hard for me to breathe," she whispered, swaying
against him.

Luke rested his hands on her shoulders.  "It doesn't exactly put me at
ease myself.  Claire, if this is your idea of slowing me down, I don't
think-"

"Good," she interrupted, lifting her fingertips to his lips and
pressing lightly to silence him.  " " Don't think..  At least don't
think of anything but me and how good I'm going to make you feel
tonight "

Stqveet heaven, Luke thought as she pushed him down onto the king-size
bed.  This wasn't quite what he had expected from nice, proper Claire
Mackenzie.

For days now he'd suspected that the strong sexual currents he felt
pulling at him whenever he was around her worked both ways.  This
afternoon had confirmed that suspicion with a vengeance.  He'd known
then that if he let nature take its course, they would sooner or later
end up in the same bed.  He'd also known it would be good.  He just
hadn't ezpected that he would be the one who landed flat on his back
there, with her taking the lead and obviously enjoying it to the hilt.
Not that he was complaining.

There was nothing to complain about in the way she straddled his hips,
the satin skin of her inner thighs making his flesh sizzle where they
were pressed together.  She leaned forward slightly, just enough to
make her breasts sway and his senses.  spin.  He remembered her breasts
very well.  They were only a little bigger now than when she was
seventeen and still as firm, perfect for a woman of her willow slimness
They were crested with pale pink and at that moment they were too damn
tantalizing for him to resist.

He lifted his hands to cup their delicate weight, half expecting her to
brush him away again or pull back, play inga teasing game intended to
either prolong his desire or prove how little the male of the species
had actually progressed along the evolutionary chain.  He hated playing
games in bed, but for Claire's sake he was prepared to try to tolerate
this one for as long as he could.  Which, considering the
pulsing in his loins at the slightest
shifting of her weight, wouldn't be too long.

But she didn't push him away.  She wasn't play inga game, he realized
with surprise, as a smile of genuine pleasure trembled across her lips
in response to his touch.  She was making honest love to him.  It
probably said something about the company he kept, but he couldn't
recall the last time a woman had been interested in doing that.  Or
when he'd ever wanted one to.

He wanted it now.  He wanted her even more fieroely than he had only
seconds ago, something he wouldn't have believed possible.  There was a
new edge to his wanting, he discovered.  It still clawed at him, to be
sure, but there was a sweetness there, too, and a kind of power he'd
never before felt.  The power to receive, instead of simply to take.

His thumbs strummed her nipples as he watched their color deepen and
the peaks grow taut.  Her heart was pounding furiously enough to keep
pace with his own.

"That feels so good," she whispered, takin ga soft breath.  "I:et me
show you how good: '

Luke went still as she placed her palms on his chest and sought the
flat nipples buried in his chest hair.  He caught his breath when she
found them, flicking lightly, then quickly bending to replace her
fingertips with her tongue.  With every little move, she made the
flames in his belly flare hotter She shifted her legs so that one
rested between his, pressing against him, riding high, higher.  His
head arched back against the pillow.  Sweet heaven.

Claire felt the trembling response that raced through him, then
gradually she felt his muscles relax.  She sensed him easing into the
pleasure she bestowed, giving himself up to it..  and to her. Something
told her that was a new experience for Luke and that made her even more
determined to make it one he wouldn't easily forget.

As tautly muscled as he was, he became like melting wax beneath her
mouth and hands-soft, pliant.  For long moments Claire caressed his
stomach and played her fingers along his ribs, dazzled by the sensation
that they were flowing together, that the pleasure she gave and the
pleasure she derived from the giving were both part of the same endless
loop.  She tasted, she explored, she aroused.  Her senses were
tantalized by the faint musk of his arousal as she moved lower, and
lower still.

Oh yeah, oh yeah, Luke thought.  Please.  His hand in her hair went
taut as he felt the damp heat of her breath on the inside of his
thighs.  He struggled to keep from movinga muscle, not wanting to
pressure her into anything she wasn't ready for by indicating what he
wanted.  And how badly he wanted it.

There were degrees to intimacy.  He knew that and he'd thought he'd
experienced them all.  He was wrong.  He hadn't even come close, he
realized as Claire hesitated, glancing up at him, their eyes meeting as
her mouth found him.  She was a silken vise closing around him, drawing
him in.  Hot, wet, the pressure exquisite.  Fire and ice at ance.
Pleasure so close to pain.  Lightning striking raw nerve, chain
lightning that lingered and buroed and ran together.

His head was jammed into the pillow.  It was a struggle just to fill
his lungs with air.  The pr sure built, getting under and behind him,
pushing him deeper, faster, harder.  He felt her tongue, her teeth.  so
much sweetness and heat.  He wanted to tell her..  say her name..
something.  But all he could do was shudder and reach for her just in
time.

Claire had never been so turoed on.  She'd never dreamed she could
become so aroused herself simply by focusing all her attention on the
man she was with.  Luke had yet to touch her intimately, but when he
dragged her up, rolling with her so that she was on her back with him
poised above her, she was more than ready to receive the passion that
blazed in his eyes.

He stripped her panties from her in one efficient motion.

"Now?"  he asked, letting her feel his swollen need at the tender
portal between her thighs.

"Yes.  Now.  Hurry."

He rocked into her and Claire arched up to meet him.  She felt him
filling her, plunging deep.  Deeper.  They moved together , slowly at
first, silk against silk.  Then harder, hotter, faster.

Claire gripped his shoulders.  Luke grasped her long legs and pulled
them around his waist, levering up in a way that increased the friction
of his thrusts until she felt as if the pleasure would rip her apart.
With every instinct warning her to slow down, to get control of
herself, she held on to Luke even more tightly, closed her eyes and
went with the tremors that were racking her from the inside out.

She was running.  Racing.  Surrounded by white light that filled her
head with heat.  She could hear the blood rushing through her, sense
the pressure building and feel the unbearably sweet contraction of
muscles that she couldn't control if she wanted to.

She was close.  So close.  Luke could see it in the tension on her
face, hear it in each ragged brqeath that shuddered from her chest,
feel it in the delicate ripples of flesh that were coming faster and
faster, ma icing her body contract around him like a moist fist.

He could do this, he told himself over and over.  He could hold off
until he felt her climax first.  He had to.  It was either that or
leave her hanging in the worst way possible, and he wasn't about to do
that.  Not to Claire.  Not tonight.

He gritted his teeth and pumped harder.  She rose to meet each thrust.
He saw her arch, reaching for it, and he pulled her closer until they
were torso to torso.  The urgency that burned in her eyes echoed his
own.  She moaned, eager, yearning, then cried out.

"I can't."

Luke slipped his hand between their straining bodies and found the wet
heat where they were joined.  He pressed his fingers against her and
saw her eyes fly open wide.

"I can," he said, his fingers keeping up the pressure, grinding into
her, until he felt her go rigid in his arms, then collapse into
convulsive shudders.

He held her tightly until she quieted, then rocked his hips into her,
slowly, deeply.  That was all it took to send the heat he felt coming
off her damp body rushing through him, as well.  Now he was holding
onto her for anchor as the whole world spun around him, an avalanche of
light and sparks and raw pleasure that he wished could go on forever.
He wanted to go on holding her forever.  Not until the rush of
sensation eased did he remember that in all likelihood he was going to
be spending the better part of forever in a very different way.

He pushed the thought away, not wanting to think about it right then.

Claire stirred beneath him and he gently disentangled his body from
hers.  She looked very happy and slightly dazed as she pushed her
fingers into her hair and held the top of her head.  As if, Luke
thought, it was threatening to come off.  Great sex after-shock.  He
knew the feeling and grinned at her.

"You okay?"  he asked, stroking her cheek as he rolled to rest on one
hip.

"Mmm.  Very okay."  She turned her head to kiss his palm.

Smiling, Luke brought her hand to his lips and returned the gesture,
kissing her palm lazily, flicking lightly with his tongue, then swung
off the bed.  "Be right back: '

He went into the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth to tend to
the stickiness on her stomach and between her thighs.

"Mmm, you're spoiling me," she murmured, rolling her shoulders like a
satisfied feline.

Luke managed to smile at her words in spite of the sadness suddenly
squqzing his heart.  He wanted to spoil her in every way he knew how.
He wanted to spend his nights making love to her and his days paying
her back for believing in him when no one else did.  Unfortunately, it
would take a lifetime to spoil her properly and he only had a handful
of days and nights left to give.

"I guess I'll have to add this to the list," she said as he stroked her
thighs with the cloth.  "What list?"  .

She lifted her head off the pillow a few inches so that his gaze met
hers.  "The list of reasons why I love you: '

The room might as well have been transformed into a meat locker.  Luke
felt that cold.  And that trapped.

He got out of bed and stalked to the bathroom, hurling the washcloth
into the sink.  He stood there for a minute, his knuckles turning white
as he gripped the qrlge of the counter.  When he lifted his head, he
saw Claire's reflection in the mirror.  He turned to face her.

She had pulled on his T shirt.  Her lips were puffy and her hair
tousled.  She would have looked sexy as sin if not for the concern that
clouded her eyes.  If he could have, without resorting to outright
lies, he would have tossed her back into bed and loved away the pain
he'd inflicted.  Then at least her memory of tonight would be a happy
one.  One lousy night.  He owed her that much.  There was only one
person in the whole world he owed more.

"I'm sorry if I scared you or something by using the L word," she said,
clearly striving to appear relaxed as she leaned her back against the
doorjamb and crossed her arms in front of her.

"You think you scared me by saying you love me?"  he countered, guilt
making his voice sound harsher than he intended "

"You didn't: '

"Then why did you run away?"

"I didn't run away," he denied hotly, knowing damn well he had done
exactly that and was doing it again right now as he squeezed past
without touching her.

He needed air.

He needed time to think.

He needed a kick in the ass for getting himself into this in the first
place.

She'd said she loved him.  There was nothing she could have said that
could have made him feel more like a heel than he did at that moment.

He grabbed his jeans off the floor and yanked them on, not bothering
with underwear.  Shoving his shorts into his pocket, he glanced
around.

"All right, then," Claire said, still slouched in the doorway , but
looking his way.  "I'm sorry I upset you: '

"I'm not upset."

"You could have fooled me: '

I did fool you, he thought, looking around the room, looking anywhere
but into her eyes.  He'd fooled her into thinking he was worth her
effort.  He pulled back the bed covers, which had somehow been wrenched
from the bed.  Where the hell was it?  " " Looking for this?  " she
inquired.

He glanced over his shoulder to find her watching him with a wry smile.
Half a smile, actually.  She was plucking at one shoulder of the
T-shirt she was wearing.  His T shirt.

"Yes, I am, as a matter of fact.  You want to toss it to me?"

"

" No.  "

His eyebrows shot up.  "No?"

"That's right.  No.  If you want it that badly, come and take it off
me."

Luke didn't want the shirt half as badly as he wanted to meet the
challenge he saw gleaming in her eyes.  He knew

; exactly where it would lead if he did-back to bed.  She knew it, too.
i "Keep the shirt," he said.  "So you are scared," she declared,
following him into the ; other room.  "You're also running away
again."

He stopped short and turned back to her.  "Claire, for the last time,
you didn't scare me or upset me by saying that you loved me.  But you
did confirm that I was right the first time... this was a mistake."

"Don't say that.  Don't you dare say that," she ordered, ; her voice
quiet and controlled.  He might not have known how angry she was if not
for the way her hands had curled , into fists at her side5 and the fact
that her bottom lip was curled.  "Not after you were the one who came
here uninvited , lying in wait for me.  You were the one who wanted
something to remember, something to... "

Luke fought the impuL5e to go to her and stop the tears he !  heard
threatening before they had a chance to pool and fall.

He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her forehead and tell her.
what?  That everything was going to be all right?

Try again, Cabrio.

So he waited.  "I didn't mean that it was a mistake for me," he told
her when he judged that her emotions were back under control.  " " It's
the opposite, in fact.  I got exactly what I wanted, what I asked for.
I got what I came here looking for tonight.  For a man on his way to
prison, there isn't any better way to spend the night than with a woman
who's been driving him crazy since the moment she walked back into his
11fe.  I meant that this was a mistake for you: ,

"Shouldn't I be the judge of that?"

"Maybe, if you had a clear view of what was at stake.  ;

Admit it, Angel, you still have this crazy hope that this is all going
to magically work itself out and-"

"Not magically," she interjected.  "But I do happen to believe in the
miracles of hard work and logic, and the fact that when push comes to
shove, our justice system delivers"

Luke shook his head.  "Like I said, magic.  If you saw me the way the
DA.  does, as a guilty man, I don't think you'd have climbed into my
bed so willingly "

"My bed," she corrected.  "And I didn't climb into it with a guilty
man, simply a misguided one.  But I'm going to change that: '

Something in the arrogant lift of her jaw warned him not to brush off
her claim too lightly.  "Now that would be a miracle.  Care to tell me
how you plan to pull it off?"

"I plan to use the direct approach.  A little while ago you accused me
of not arguing, but you were wrong.  I do argue when there's something
worth arguing over.  Think about it Luke-I get paid to argue in front
of a judge..  and I'm very good at it," she added, with a verbal
swagger that wasn't lost on him.  "When there's something really
important to me at stake, I don't simply argue, I fight like hell: '

There wasn't a shred of doubt in his mind about that.  "Is that what
you plan to do-spend the rest of the night arguing with me over
something that's already been docided ?..

"Tonight, tomorrow, as long as it takes.  But I have the utmost
confidence in your intelligence and your powers of reason," she said,
with such an abrupt shift in tone from angry to sweet that he didn't
know if she was being nice or sarcastic.  " " And I know that when you
hear what I have to say, you'll agree that I'm right, that there is a
way out of this mess for everyone concerned.  "

Not attempting to hide his skepticism, he dropped into a corner of the
sofa.  "Shoot," he said.

"All right.  First off, I believe we've already established that you
didn't kill Nick Addison and that the only reason you're not denying
the accusation that you did is to protect Sherry Wakefield."

"Go on," Luke urged, doing his best not to snicker at the sight of her
acting so lawyerly while rumpled and halfnaked " " As your attorney"

"Not technically," he interjected, running his eyes over her
suggestively.  " " No, not technically, " she agreed, her long legs
shifting restlessly as she stood before him.  " But as someone acting
in the capacity of legal adviser, I must vehemently discourage you from
that course of action: Her expression softened as she moved to perch on
the sofa near him.  "But as a woman who knows you and loves you and who
was once very grateful to be on the receiving end of your heroic
instinct"

"Claire..."

" " Hold your objections, please.  I knew there was no way I could
force you to save yourself if it meant sacrificing Sherry.  I confess
that around that time, I began wishing there was some magic spell that
I could use to change your attitude and make you put yourself first for
once.  " She reached for his hand, furling both of hers around it where
it rested on his bent knee.  " But the more I thought about it, the
more I realized that I didn't want to change you, that I love you just
the way you are.  I love you because of the way you are.  I always
have," she added softly.

Luke shook his head.  "Damn it, Claire-"

"No.  Please let me finish.  I didn't plan on telling you any of this
tonight.  I wanted to talk with Sherry first, because I know that this
all hinges on her and what she decides to do.  I hoped that the two of
us could work out the details and then talk with you together: '

"Just tell me."

"I'm trying to.  It took me awhile, but I finally realized that I was
wasting time trying to prove that Sherry was guilty or trying to get
you to admit it.  I realized that the only way

I could save you was to save Sherry first.  And so that's what I'm
going to do.  "

"I don't understand.  Sherry doesn't need you to save her.  The police
don't even suspect her: '

"Of course not, because you've given them such a nice big easy target
to take aim at."

"

" And I plan to keep it that way.  "

"To save Sherry from going to prison, right?"

He shrugged.

"But what if there was no chance of her being sent to prison, because
there was no chance of her being found guqq,q, ,

"There's always a chance."

"All right," she conceded, "but a very minute chance.  I'm not the
gambler here, so I can't quote odds.  But I am a lawyer and I've
followed the trend in cases where battered women have resorted to using
violence against the men who were abusing them, whether the charges be
murder or maiming or simple assault, and after looking into it, I can
assure you that Sherry has an excellent case for acquittal: '

He hated the look of unadulterated hope that shone in her eyes, mostly
because he knew he was going to be the one to destroy it.

"Did she tell you that Addison abused her?"

Claire shook her head.

"Then what gave you that idea?"

"It was just the impression I got when I listened to her talk about
him, about their marriage...."

"An impression?"  he interjected.  "Oh, that should stand up in a
courtroom."

"You asked what first gave me the idea," she retorted.  "I know more
now.  Luke," she said, tightening her hands around his, "I've been to
St.  Michael's, the shelter you brought Sherry to after she left
Addison.  I've spoken with Mona Kurtz.  That's where I was tonight."

Luke listened as she described her visit to the shelter.  He listened
to as much as he could.  He had to admit, she knew the facts.  She knew
things about Sherry and the hell she'd gone through with Addison that
Sherry hadn't even told him.  Just as well, he thought bitterly.  If
she had told him the whole story, Addison probably would have ended up
dead a lot sooner.

He couldn't deny that what Claire said made sense.  Even Sherry had
tried to convince him that what she'd done might be considered
self-defense.  He couldn't argue with that, either He wasn't even going
to try.  From his viewpoint, it was immaterial.  He knew what he had to
do and he was going to do it.  Nothing Claire said could change that.

"I don't believe you," she exclaimed when he told her that's how it
was.  How it had to be.  She jumped to her feet and planted her hands
on her hips, tossing her hair back as violently as he'd ever seen her
do it.  "I don't believe that you could sit there and listen to
everything I just told you and still say you're going to go ahead with
a plea bargain: '

"Believe it," he countered, getting to his feet.

"No," she shot back, defiance and indignation in every rigid muscle.
"No one could be that stupid... and cruel."

"

" Cruel?  "

"Yes, cruel.  How can you just walk away after what we shared
tonight?"

"I'm not just walking away I'm being sent to prison."

"For something you didn't do."

He grabbed her and jerked her toward him.  "Don't you think this is
tearing me up inside, too?"

"I don't know.  I don't know what to think.  I can't understand how you
could make love to me the way you did, knowing how I feel about you and
knowing how you feel about me-don't even try to deny it, Luke, a woman
can tell.... I don't understand why you would throw it all away for
another woman.  I know she's an old friend, but this is ridiculous,
service above and beyond the call of friendship.  Is she blackmailing
you?  Is that it?"

"Another woman?"  he echoed, the words striking a discordant note.  His
brow gathered into a frown of disbelief.  "You don't think I'm still
involved with Sherry?  Romantically , I mean?q, " "What should I think?
You climb out of bed with me and tell me we can't be together because
you're going to jail so she won't have to.  You're willing to sacrifice
what we have , and everything we could have, to save another woman... a
woman who doesn't even need saving, I might add.  A woman who should"

"Will you stop?"  he demanded, shaking her a little too roughly.  He
had to make her understand.  "I'm not sacrificinga damn thing for
anothsr woman.  This isn't about Sherry."

Claire went still, the resistance draining from her, leaving confusion
in its place.  Luke gentled his hold.

"IYs not?"

"No.  I'm not doing this for Sherry.  I never was: He took a deep
breath.  " I'm doing it for my son," he told her.  " I'm doing it for
Ben: '

Chapter 11

Claire pulled away from him, takin ga few steps backward

"Ben is your son?"  she whispered, stunned.

She quickly realized that she shouldn't be.  Even before Luke confirmed
the fact with a solemn nod, she had absorbed the utter rightness of it.
There had been so many signs.  If only she had been alert to them.
Ben's fiery, dark good looks that were much more reminiscent of Luke
than of either Sherry or the fair-complexioned Addison.  Luke's
interest in sending the boy to a private school and the fact that he
earned a baby picture of him in his wallet.  Even his name, Ben.  She
shook her head as she recalled the full name on Luke's driver's
license.  Lucas Benjamin Cabrio.  How could she have missed it?

"Who else knows about this?"  she asked.  Her gaze narrowed sharply.
"Did Addison know?"

"Of course," he replied, a little indignantly, Claire noted.  "Sherry's
not the type to play games with a guy about a thing like that."

Claire did some quick calculations based on what she had learned about
Sherry.  "But she must have been pregnant with Ben when she married
Addison: ' " "That's right: " "Did she know then that you were the
father?"

"We both knew: "

"Then why did she marry someone else?  "

He shrugged.  "Why not?  Addison was everything she was looking for in
a man-dependable, respectable, a steady worker... and crazy about her
in the bargain: '

"You make it sound as if he was something she ordered from a catalog,"
she exclaimed, puzzled by his offhand tone.  " " You don't marry a man
because he's a steady worker when you're carrying another man's baby.
"

"Want to bet?"  A note of bitterness had penetrated his nonchalance.
"Addison was perfect husband-and father -material."

"

" What about you?  "

"Me?"  His harsh gulp of laughter tore at Claire's heart.  "I wasn't
even close.  Oh, I was financially solvent-for the moment, at least,
but respectable?  Dependable?  Lst's just say that a professional
gambler wasn't exactly Sherry's idea of the ideal husband and father:
His eyes fixed on her.  " I doubt you'd argue with that: '

"That's not the point.  Your job wasn't the point.  We're talking about
a child here, a human being.  Did you try to take responsibility for
the baby?  Did you ask her to marry you, or at least offer some sort of
support?"

"I offered.  I asked," he said, the words falling like ice chips.
"Hell, I begged.  I promised to find a real job, do whatever she wanted
me to do."

"And she turned you down?"

He grimaced.  "Yeah, she turned me down.  Not that there was much to
turn down..  materially or romantically.  Sherry and I had been
involved in an on-and-off way for a year or so, but we were never in
love: '

Claire wasn't exactly proud of the pleasure she took in hearing that.
Not that it made any difference.  Sherry and Luke shared a bond even
deeper than love.  "I take it the baby was a complete accident?"

"God, I hate that word," he snapped, stiffening.  "Ben may not have
been planned, but he was no accident.  That little kid is... a
blessing.  As insignificant as my role was, I can still say he's about
the only thing I've done right in my whole life."

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to imply..."

"I know you didn't," he cut in.  "If I'm touchy on the subject, you can
chalk it up to my guilty conscience."

"Why should you be guilty when it was Sherry who chose to marry someone
else instead of you?"

"I made choices of my own.  Choices I'm not proud of.  I chose to step
aside when she asked me to, to let another man claim my kid as his own,
raise him: His eyes were haunted.

"Addison was willing to take on that responsibility even knowing he
wasn't Ben's father?"

"So he said," Luke retorted.  "He really fed Sherry a line about how he
wanted to take care of her and the baby, how it didn't matter to him
who the real father was, how from their wedding day on he was going to
be the baby's real father" He broke off with a cynical chuckle.

"And Sherry believed him: '

He nodded.  "Yeah, she believed him.  She was that desperate" He turned
empty eyes her way.  "I'll let you in on my dirty little secret, part
of me wanted to believe it, too.  I even felt a little relieved at
being off the hook.  I told myself that Ben was going to have a good
home and family and no one was going to be counting on me to provide
it... something I wasn't at all sure I could do for the long haul.  , g
?  y If I didn t have to try, I couldn't fail right It took me ears to
understand that you don't have to try in order to fail in the only way
that really matters."

"Don't be so hard on yourself.  I can understand how what you did might
have seemed like the right thing to do at the time.  If Sherry was in
love with Nick Addison and that was the way she wanted it."

"I'm not even sure she ever was in love with him.  I tend to think it
was more a case of her wanting to be in love with him, or being in love
with what he represented: '

"And what was that?"

"Success.  A nice house in a good neighborhood, a new car and enough
steady income for her to stay home with the kids.  The American Dream
... one version of it, anyway."

"What went wrong?"

" " Evidently Prinoe Charming wasn't always so charming when they were
alone behind closed doon, or after he'd spent the afternoon knocking
down a few rounds with clients on the golf course.  "

"Did you know he was abusing her?"

"Not back then.  I wasn't even in the picture for the first couple of
years.  Sherry wanted a clean break.  They moved across state and she
asked me to stay away, for her sake and for Ben's, to give them a
chance to be a real family without any shadows hanging over them.  And
I agreed," he said.

He ground his fist against his open palm, his anger and
self-recrimination so raw it was painful for Claire to watch.

"I agreed," he said again, "that it would be best for the kid not to
have to know that his real flesh and blood lived in hotel rooms and
played cards for a living and hung loose from one big score to the
next.  I was a hotshot with a deck of cards, a big success at the same
game my old man had failed at.  I figured I was showing the whole world
what I was made of, sticking it to all those people who'd said I
wouldn't amount to squat "

He stared past her, bringing his fists up, then dropping them again, as
if there wasn't anything to strike out at, or else he just didn't have
the energy.

"Then, Sherry told inc she was pregnant," he continued, sqrikingan even
tone that didn't fool Claire a bit, "and I had to take a good, hard
look at myself and face the fact that, win or lose, what I was doing
with my life wasn't much to be proud of.  I had to agree with her that
I didn't have much to offer in the way of substance.  I figured by
going along with what she wanted, at least I would be giving my kid
something I never had growing up, a father he could be proud of....
Nick Addison," he concluded with a hanh laugh.  "What a joke."

"Oh, Luke," she said, tasting at the back of her own throat the
bitterness that simmered so strongly in him.  "We're talking about
something that happened over seven years ago... you were young..  : '

"Not so young I didn't know a mistake when I made one.  I knew, all
right.  Not right away maybe, but I knew.  The first, hell, the only
time I ever held my son in my arms, I looked into his eyes and I knew
that what I had done was wrong: '

He reached for his wallet and stared in silence at the picture of
Sherry and Ben before handing it to her.

"I'd heard from friends when she had the baby and that it was a boy, a
son, and I couldn't stop thinking about him, wondering what he looked
like.  It drove me crazy to the point where I was losing my focus, my
edge.  That's death for a gambler, so I called Sherry and talked her
into meeting me at a park near her house so I could see him and hold
him, just once.  To get it out of my system, I told myself."  His
shoulders were rigid.  "That's the day I took that picture"

After a minute, he continued.  "That was also the day I figured out why
I couldn't stop thinking about him, why I couldn't shake whatever it
was gnawing at my gut day and night.  You don't just shake off your own
kid as easily as you do los inga game of blackjack.  I knew then I'd
made the biggest damn mistake of my life and that I was going to have
to live with it forever: '

"Did you tell Sherry how you felt?"

" " What was the point?  It was too late to do anything about it..  or
so I thought.  I had given Sherry my word, I had let her marry Addison.
What right did I have to go turning three other lives upside down
because I'd made a mistake ?

"A father's right," she said softly.

"Yeah, well, I'm a pretty poor excuse for a father.  Then and now.  But
at least this time I'm not shirking my responsibility to him: '

"By going to prison for something you didn't do?  Is that your idea of
a father's responsibility?"

"In this case, you're damn right it is," he retorted.  "The way I
figure it, Ben's never had much of a father, but he's got a great
mother.  Sherry loves those kids and she'd do anything for them.  Ben
needs that... he needs her.  He saw how Addison treated her.  He saw
more than any little kid should have to see."

Claire could only nod, remembering the incident at the shelter that
Mona had described.  How many more "incidents " like that had Ben and
his little brother been subjected to?  she wondered.  " " Now the only
father he ever knew is dead.  Shot by his own mother "

He closed his eyes, pain etched in every line of his face, and Claire
felt herself reeling inside from a shock she hadn't expected to feel.
After all, she had suspected Sherry had killed Addison almost from the
start.  No matter how she cautioned herself to keep an open mind, in
her heart she had already known the truth.  Still to hear Luke finally
confirm it out loud made a wrenching impression on her.

She understood that he was thinking of the effect all this was going to
have on Ben and Nicky.  She couldn't help thinking about the same
thing, and for once she was at a total loss for words.

"I guess all kids need love and stability," he said at last, "but right
now Ben needs it more than ever, and he needs all of it he can get. The
last time he needeq me, I wasn't around for him.  That's not going to
happen again: '

Claire released the deep breath she'd been holding.  "I understand how
much you want to protect Ben..  : '

"Good," he cut in.  "Then you understand why I'm asking you to back off
and let me do what I have to do."

"But don't you see?"  she countered, the lawyer in her 5urfacing once
again.  "You don't have to do this.  I know we can build a case for
Sherry-"

"And then what?"  he demanded before she could finish.  "You expect the
DA.  to say, wow, what a strong case,

I give up?  "

"No, it's seldom quite that cut and dried, I'm afraid.I imagine Sherry
will be charged with the murder, although I venture to say it will be a
lesser count than murder one, and then-"

"And then the whole ugly mess gets played out in court... and in the
newspapers.  Right?  "

She couldn't deny it.  _ "And for the rest of his 11fe, Ben gets to
live with the gossip and the rumors.  And the truth... that his mother
k11led q; his father-for whatever reason-only it wasn't really his q;
father, it was just some man everyone told him was his father His real
father was such a loser he was better off not even knowing about him:
'

Claire went to him, but he moved out of reach, as if whatever was
inside him might contaminate her, too.

"No seven-year-old kid should have to deal with that " he declared, his
voice thick and wavering.

"Luke, there are ways to control the publicity surrounding a trial. 
The judge can-"

"The judge can try," he barked.  "That's all he can do.  My way is a
sure bet."

"I wish you'd just listen to me for a minute."

"We all have wishes," Luke retorted.  Knowing how much he was hurting
inside, and that his sarcasm was a defensive measure, didn't make it
any easier for Claire to take.  "I wish I'd been a father to Ben from
the start.  I wish I'd taken care of Addison the first time I found out
he'd put his hands on Sherry, the way I wanted to.  I wish I hadn't
listened to her reasoning that it would only make things worse for her
and the kids if I got involved.  I wish I'd done something when he
first showed his face here at the hotel, instead of playing the
professional and waiting for him to make a move.  I wish to hell I'd
never given Sherry that gun: '

"Why did you give it to her?"

"Because she was afraid and she asked me for it.  Addison had shown up
at her place a couple of times in the middle of the night, making a
scene and getting the kids all worked up, making threats.  She was so
nervous that he'd come back that she couldn't sleep: '

"Why didn't she call the police?"

"She was worried that he would retaliate if she did, and she was
worried about what the neighbors would think, and because she kept
hoping he would just get tired of hounding her and go away "

"That seldom happens in cases like this "

"Right.  I guess that guys who get their rocks off hitting women don't
usually outgrow it " He plunged his hands into his pockets.  His eyes
cut away from her to stare at the framed magnolias over the sofa, but
Claire knew he didn't even see them.  He was focused on something that
had happened a long time ago.  " " I knew all about that.  I should
have made her listen.  I should have.  " He broke off with a weary
shake of his head.  " She said that having the gun handy and knowing
how to use it would help her to sleep.  She was looking like hell.  I
knew she needed to get some sleep, for the kids' sake if not her own:
'

His voice had regained its cool detachment, a newscaster 's voice, only
this wasn't a newscast, Claiq,e thought, it was his life.

"Do you know why she had the gun with her the night Addison was
killed?"

"She always carried it with her," he answered.  "She took it to work,
the store, anytime she left the kids home alone with a baby-sitter.  I
told you, she's a good mother.  She doesn't take chances."

"I don't know Sherry very well, but I agree with you that she's a good
mother.  I saw them together and iYs hard to fake a good relationship
with kids: '

"You saw Ben?"  he asked, some of the darkness leaving his face.

"Yes, the day I went to see Sherry."

"That's right.  Is he a great kid or what?"

Claire smiled, moved by his honest pride in a boy he was never even
allowed to acknowledge as his own.  "He's terrific I should have
guessed he was your son.  He looks just like you: '

"I guess that was always part of the problan: Luke drew his lips
together tightly.  " Addison might have started out with good
intentions, but having a kid who looked so much like his wife's former
lover really got to him.  According to Sherry, once Nicky was born and
he finally had a son of his own, he turned on both Ben and her.

"Things between them started to go downhill fast.  By the time she
decided she had to get out and called me for help, I knew right away
the situation was bad.  I saw some of the marks he left on her," he
said tightly, "but even I didn't know how bad it had gotten.  Sherry
lets it out in little bits and pieces, but she's the only one who
really knows what she had to put up with from that son of a bitch.  She
keeps it all locked up inside her... even about what happened that last
night: " " Why did she go to his room that night?  "

He puffed out an exasperated breath.  "I wish to hell I knew.  We
haven't exactly had an opportunity to get together and discuss it at
length.  first I was locked up and now, well, I'm just not taking any
chances on raising suspicion in her direction by having her seen with
me... or leavinga trail of phone calls," he added pointedly.  " "
Speaking of which, did she call you from his room that night and ask
you to come down?  "

"She called.  I went down all on my own: '

"Was she still there when you got to the room?"  Claire felt as if she
was cross-examining him.  It came naturally, and she couldn't seem to
stop.

"No.  When she called I told her to go back to work and make like she'd
never even taken her break.  That place is such a zoo most of the time,
I knew she could pull it off."

" " And you had already decided at that point that you were going to
take the rap for her?  "

"No, I didn't even know he was dead, only that she said she'd shot him
and that whatever shape he was in I was a better choice to deal with it
than she was: '

"You mean because you're in charge of security here?"

He nbdded.  "That's right.  I knew he was dead the minute

I walked in the room..  and that they'd struggled beforehand I did some
picking up, wiped the gun for prints and made sure she hadn't left
anything around that would tie her to the soene.  I figured I'd just
call it in as a routine BE that went sour..  that's.  : '

"Breakingand entering, I know: "

"Right."

"What made you change your mind?"

" " The serond the cops got there and asked me for a statement , it hit
me that no matter what I said or didn't say, they would zero in on
Sherry like she had cross hairs on her back.

All I could think of was how Ben-and Nicky, too-were going to lose
their father and their mother in one night.  I had to stop that from
happening and the only way I knew to do that was to distract them just
like you said, by giving them a bigger target to aim at.  Me.  "

"And Sherry just went along with that?"

"Max put a lid on things here so that she didn't even know about it
until the news of my arrest spread the next day.  Then she came tearing
down to the j all to tell me I was

"She was right."

"She told me she'd had to do what she did and she wasn't sorry.  She
said that she didn't want me taking the blame for her: " "How did you
change her mind?  "

"I'm not sure I did," he said, the curve of his mouth sardonic.  "I
told her that we had done things her way the first time, that she owed
it to me to go along with what I wanted now."

"Sherry is lucky to have you for a friend."

He shrugged.  "I told you, I'm not doing this for her "

"Ben is lucky, too.  You're making an unbelievable sacrifice for them,
and I know your heart is in tlqe riqt place."

Her tone purposely signaled that she was leaving someqg unsaid.

"But?"  he prodded, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"But I'm not sure you're actually doing them such a big favor.  You've
seen for yourself how the passage of time can put things in a different
light, make what seemed the right thing to do seem suddenly all wrong
"

"What are you driving at Claire?"

"I think that there are other reasons besides the obvious why Sherry
should come forward and get everything out in the open.  Mona Kurtz
said the very same thing to me earlier tonight.  Sherry needs to face
up to what's happened to q' to q'eq'thing that's happened, and have
what she did validated for what it was, an act of self-defense.  She
needs to know without a doubt that she's the victim here, not a
criminal.  Having her day in court just might be the best thing that
could happen to her."

" " And the worst for Ben.  I'm sorry, but Sherry and I got to chooss
what was best onoe before and look how it turned out.  This time Ben is
going to come first: '

"Coming to terms with what happened will only make Sherry a better
mother to Ben," Claire insisted.

Luke's expression became shuttered.  "I really don't want to talk about
this anymore tonight... or ever, for that matter : '

"Your mind is made up, is that it?"  Panic twisted inside her at the
look of utter deteqination in his eyes.

"My mind has been made up from the start.  I never made any secret of
that: '

"No," she agreed.  "You had other, more important socrets to keep: "
"For what iYs worth, I'm sorry you got mixed up in this: '

"You didn't ask me to come."

"I also didn't force you to go: '

"You couldn't have."

He arched one dark brow.  "Trust me.  I could have."

She shrugged.  What difference did it make?  What difference did
anything make when Luke was determined to throw his life away and she
was absolutely unable to stop him?

"So," she said inanely, banking down the ache in her chest, the leading
edge of a pain so big she had no idea where it ended.  Or if it did.
Don't think about it now, she told herself.  Later; she would deal with
it later.  After all, she was a logical woman.  She would approach this
logically, sort it all out and figure out a way to pull herself back
together and go on.  Later.  All she wanted now was to get through the
next few minutes.  "What happens now?"  she asked him.

"I'm going to give Rancourt a call first thing in the morning and ask
him to put some pressure on the DA.  to come up with a deal as soon as
possible."

"Oh no, you can't do that," she cried, professional instincts
overriding all eLse for an instant.  "You never go begging.  It makes
you look desperate."

His lips twisted.  "Angel, I am desperate.  I want this settled before
I... I just want it settled, that's all: '

He reached out and laid his hand against her cheek, then let it drop to
his side.  The expression in his eyes was so heartwrenchingly bleak,
Claire would have looked away if she could have.

"You know, I taught myself a long time ago," he told her, "not to want
what I couldn't have.  A dog, a new bike, a house where you could bring
home friends without having to run ahead and check to see if there was
a raging argument going on or if somebody was pass Pd out, drunk, in
the hallway " His mouth twisted into a bitter smile.  " " I had a lot
of practice, so I got real good at not wanting things.  I turned it
into an art form, and even when I left home and could afford the things
I wanted, I still practiced not wanting them just..  just to stay
sharp.

"And now," he went on, "in only a few days, you've managed to undo the
work of a lifetime."  His attempt to q sound amused instead of dejected
failed miserably.  "You've got me wanting what I can't have."

Claire watched him turn and leave without asking exactly what it was
that he wanted and couldn't have.  Freedom ?  A fresh start?  Her?
Maybe all three.  Maybe for Luke, the three were so closely entwined
that to want one was to want them all.

He had asked her to back off and thaYs what she was going to do.  She
had to.

At the door of the bedroom she stopped, staring at the rumpled bed and
the suitcase and clothes she had left lying there earlier and that were
now strewn across the floor.  She

could have tolerated the mess, but not the fresh memories that hung in
the air along with the sweet, earthy scent of their lovemaking.

"Oh, Luke," she whimpered, wrapping her arms around herself tightly,
twisting his T shirt in her fingers.

She turned her head and nestled her nose against the wash-softened
fabric, smelling Luke..  seeing him reaching for her..  feeling his
hands and his mouth streaking over her body.  She jerked her head up.
She had to get out of here

Dragginga blanket from the bed, she returned to the other room and
threw herself on the sofa.

An odd feeling settled over her.  She knew how it felt to win and how
it felt to lose, but this was neither.  It was something in between. It
was giving up, she realized, and that was something she never, never
did.

She was doing it now, though.  She had no other choice.

She could have fought this if it was only Sherry whom Luke was trying
to protect, and she would have fought, tooth and nail, to the bitter
end.  She would have argued and cajoled and used every lawyer's trick
and feminine wile at her disposal to get him to change his mind and
think of himself first and to consider what he was losing.  what they
would both be losing if he went to prison.

She would have fougbt because she loved him.  And it was for the same
reason that she knew she had to give up now.  It was because she loved
him that she understood why he could never put his own happiness before
his son's, and it was because she loved him that she would never ask
him to do it for her.  She would never ask him to make a choice between
the woman he loved and his own son.

Luke let himself into his room, grabbed the first shirt he saw, jammed
his feet into his running shoes and left.  He didn't need to climb into
bed and spend an hour wrestling with the bedclothes and his own
thoughts to know he was too wired to sleep.

He pulled on his shirt during the elevator ride to the ground floor and
took a seldom-used exit to the boardwalk Usually he did his running
early in the morning, racing the sun along the horizon, and usually he
spent the recommended length of time stretching beforehand.  Tonight he
just hit the boards and started running, flat out, legs pumping as if
they were part of some super engine that would never break down,
instead of part of a man who could be broken all too easily.

Tonight he was racing with himself, trying to outdistance the part of
him that was saying that maybe he ought to compromise.  That maybe,
just this once, he could have what he wanted and no one else would have
to get hurt in the process.  At least no one would get hurt too badly.
Define "too badly," he taunted himself.  What the hell does "too badly"
mean to a seven-year-old?

No.

No compromises.

No surrender.

No.  No.  No.

His feet pounded out that refrain as they hammered the wooden decking
of the boardwalk.  Past resorts and the plaza.  Past the dozens of
fast-food stands and amusement rides, all quiet now.  Past Trop World
Farther.  Running harder.  Out of breath and almost out of boardwalk
and still running.  Running until it hurt so much to run that maybe,
for just a little while, he wouldn't feel any other pain, like the pain
of knowing that Claire was lost to him forever.

Sorry, pal, he thought as the end of the boardwalk came into sight, you
just can't run that far.  Beyond the end rail, the sand fell away,
leavinga stretch of black sky peppered with stars, a little glimpse of
what forever looked like.  How apropos.  It looked cold, Luke decided
as he dropped, gasping for air, onto the rough wooden deck.  It looked
cold and lonely.  He closed his eyes.

Welcome to forever, pal.

Chapter 12

Claire was stalling and she knew it.  She was showered and dressed and
her bags were packed.  There was nothing to stop her from leaving
Atlantic City the same way she'd arrived , with her life in disarray
behind her.

She'd thought she'd had problems at home, boredom with handling one
look alike project after another, irritation with her father for
passing her over for the really big cases and then finally assigning
her one that had forced her to walk a personal line between ethics and
loyalty.  That's what had pushed her over the edge and sent her off
chasing windmills.  When she left, she'd been fed up with the world of
Mackenzie and Dwyer and fed up with the way she was spending her time
at work.  Up until two weeks ago, her work had been her whole life.

This little excursion to gambler's paradise had certainly changed that
in a hurry.  More accurately, falling in love with Luke had changed it.
It had also put her work-related problems in perspective.  She'd choose
boredom or a bruised ego over a broken heart any day.

Unfortunately, Claire thought, sighing as she checked the room one last
time to see if she was forgetting anything she hadn't known that that
was the choice she was making until it was too late.

Too late.  That seemed to sum it all up nicely.  It was too late for
Luke.  Too late for her.  Too late for second chances.  She shook her
head, recalling how she had fantasized about quitting the family firm
and moving to Atlantic City to start her own practice, specializing in
the kinds of cases and clients that were important to her.  And to be
near Luke, of course.  There was no denying the tempting part he had
played in this most recent fantasy.

Let it go, she told herself, because it just plain wasn't goqing to
happen.  She wasn't feeling together enough at the moment to
contemplate any maj or career changes.  And she wouldn't be moving
anywhere close to Luke anytime soon.  Like the rest of this century,
she thought bleakly.  Not unless she planned to give new meaning to the
expression "jailhouse lawyer."

Not funny.  She couldn't even make herself smile this morning Which was
probably a good thing.  Smiling would probably hurt as much as
breathing did.  All of a sudden it seemed as if every muscle in her
body was connected directly to the giant ache in her chest, and every
time she moved it just got a little bigger and harder to bear.

She checked the clock.  Nearly ten and still no sound of life in Luke's
room next door.  She didn't want to wake him up to say goodbye.  Who
was she kidding?  She didn't want to say goodbye at all.  If breathing
hurt this much, she didn't want to think about what it was going to
feel like to stand close enough to Luke to touch him and have to tell
him goodbye.

Coming to an abrupt decision, she moved to the corner desk and found a
piece of hotel stationery.  She didn't even bother to sit.  After last
night, there wasn't a whole lot to say.

She hurriedly wrote his name at the top of the sheet, and then below
it, "Good luck.  Take care of yourself."  She hesitated before
scrawling "Love,

She would stick it under his door on her way out.

She wiped at the corner of one eye and phoned the front desk to ask
them to send someone for her bags.  Then on impulse she punched out the
number of her office in Providence Her father would doubtlessly be
overjoyed to hear that she would be home this afternoon.  After dodging
his phone calls the entire time she'd been away, she supposed she owed
him a little joy Besides, it would make reentry that much smoother.

He was in court, his secretary told her.

"No, no message," Claire said in reply to her request.  She would just
have to surprise him.  Maybe she would even drive straight to the
office and throw herself back into her work right away.  Nose to the
grindstone, an idle mind and all that.  Just the thought of it made her
grimace as she pulled the door shut behind her.

She slid her note under the door of Luke's room, wishing in spite of
herself that he might see it right away and come running out to stop
her and tell her that he couldn't let her go after all and that
somehow, some way, they were going to find a solution to this no-win
situation.

She wished so hard that she could almost hear his footsteps on the
thick carpetzng behind her and his voice calling to her to wait.  It
was so real that for a second after the elq vat or doors slid open and
she saw Luke standing on the other side, she half expected him to
launch into the lines she'd written for him.

Instead, he just stared at her in silence, looking as startled as she
felt.  Then he frowned.

"My God, Luke, is everything all right?"  she asked at last, noting
that he was still wearing the same jeans as last night, with a white
cotton dress shirt that had seen better days, or rather, better nights.
It was wrinkled and smudged with dirt and had a jagged tear up near the
collar.  His hair was ruffled.  Whiskers darkened his cheeks and jaw
and his eyes were bloodshot.  He looked as if he'd been in a brawl.

"Fine," he replied.  "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged uneasily.  "You just look sort of... awful: '

"Awful."  He nodded with mock thoughtfulness.  "Yep, I'd say awful just
about covers it.  I never made it to berl last night."

"qy sqial reason?"

"None you don't already know all about."

"I see.  Where did you go?"

"Running.  Then I ended up in my office."

"Working?q,

"On a puzzle."  There was a gruff sheepishness in his voice.

"How's it coming?"  she asked, thinking she probably ought to mention
the missing piece and wondering what she had done with it.

"It's finished, except for one stinking piece.  I just spent an hour
crawling around on my hands and knees looking for it.  Really ticks me
off," he said, scowling.

Claire forced a flicker of a smile.  This was definitely not the time
to mention that she might-just might, mind you still have the missing
piece.  "That's a shame.  Well, maybe it will turn up."

Maybe.  If she could find it and send it to him.  In time.

"Yeah, maybe."  He moved to hold the doors open with his back.  "Where
are you off to so early?"

"

" Home.  "

"Home?"  He looked shocked, as if he hadn't spent most of the past two
weeks advising her to go home.

"That's right.  There's really no reason for me to hang around: '

"No.  No, I suppose there isn't: '

"I wrote you a note," she said, shifting the strap of her handbag to
her other shoulder.  "I stuck it under your door."

"What does it say?"

"Not much.  I just wanted to tell you good luck and to take care of
yourself."

"

" That's it?  "

She swallowed and her throat burned.  It was a lot easier to write the
word love than to say it when he was standing so close, staring at her,
his eyes ablaze with a dark, unmistakable heat.

"That's it," she said.

"Well.  Thanks.  Foreverything."

He stepped away from the doors and they immediately began to close.  He
held them with one hand, his eyes still watching her as she boarded the
elevator.  She stood facing him and saw more than heat and hunger in
his gaze now.  She saw all the regrets and the longing that he either
couldn't put into words or didn't dare to.

As soon as he dropped his arm to his side, the doon started closing
again.  One more second, Claire told herself.  Not even.  Surely she
could hold herself together for that long.

She was doing all right.  Then, with the doors just inches apart, he
suddenly shoved his hand in between.  The automatic sensors immediately
reversed their direction and Luke was reaching through the opening for
her, grabbing her and dragging her against him.

His mouth came down on hers with a fierce hunger that washed away
everything else, the pain and the worry and the fear of what tomorrow
was going to be like.  He caught her hips with his firm, strong hands
and pulled her to him even more tightly, and all the while his tongue
plundered her mouth, seeking, demanding, setting her senses on fire.

He kissed her as if he wanted to lose himself in her.  No, she thought,
as if he already had.  It was a kiss that tasted of What and honey and
possibilities.  Claire gave herself totally, qtrainedly to the embrace,
and for one brief, mad moment she forgot how things really were.

It wasn't until he pulled away and she looked into his eyes that she
remembered there were no possibilities to be found there, only regrets.
qqI really am sorry," he whispered.

Then the doors closed and she was alone.

She barely had time to compose herself before she reached the lobby and
found herself surrounded by laughing, chatqering hotel guests, some in
a hurry to reach the casino, othen looking as if they'd spent the night
there.

Claire had planned to stop by Brad's office and thank him for his help,
but she definitely wasn't up for that now.  She would call him from
home, she decided, along with Mona and Gerald.

She checked out and was halfway to the exit that led to the parking
garage when she heard a woman's voice calling her name.  She turned to
see Sherry Wakefield hurrying across q lobby toward her and was ashamed
of the wave of dismay she felt and the accompanying urge to keep
walking.

She just wanted to get away from there as fast as she could.

"I'm so glad I caught you," Sherry said.  "They told meat the desk that
you just checked out.  Is that true?"

"Yes, it is: '

She frowned in confusion.  "But why?  Where are you go " Home.  "

"Home?  How can you go home now?  When Luke hasn't q: qen gone to court
or anything?  When he needs you here?"

"Luke doesn't need me," Claire said, glancing impatieatly at the exit a
few feet away.  As sympathetic as she was to Sherry, she didn' tfeel
like discussing any of this with her q= right now.  "He's made up his
mind about what he's going q;::qdo and he doesn't need my help to do
it."

"Maybe not," Sherry said, as Claire turned to go, "but I think maybe I
do."  She caught the sleeve of Claire's shirt.  "Please, Ms. 
Mackenzie, can I talk with you?"

"I'm sorry, Sherry.  I'm really in a hurry and-"

She broke off as the other woman's face crumbled with disappointment.

"I'm sorry," she said to Claire.  "I didn't mean to bother you or
anything.  It's just that Ms.  Kurtz told me some of the things you
said to her and that you might be willing to help me if you could.

Claire peered at her with increased interest.  "When did you speak with
Mona Kurtz?  "

"She called me first thing this morning.  Ms.  Kurtz knows I'm always
up real early with the boys.  I'm glad she did call because I've been
needing someone to talk with about this: '

"You mean about your ex-husband's death?"

"Yes.  I..  : She glanced around nervously.  " Do you think we could
take a walk outside?  This is sort of private.  And besides, I don't
want to run into Luke until I get to say what y y , I have to sa.  I
won t take too much of our time I promise , Claire nodded.  "All right,
Why don't you lead the way7 I'm afraid I still get lost in this place
unless I use the garage exit."

Sherry led her through the labyrinthine hotel to the boardwalk and then
a short distance to a place where the boardwalk extended out over the
beach.  Dressed in neat, navy blue shorts and a white open-neck jersey,
she looked more like a vacationer than a casino show girl.  Claire had
dressed for comfort on the long drive home and her turquoise

T shirt tucked into cream-colored denims blended equally well with the
casually dressed tourists all around them.  In spite of the crowd,
there were only a few other people sitting on the nearby rows of
benches, some old men feeding the sea gulls and a family takin ga break
from their walk along the shore.  They found a private bench off to the
side and sat.

"I guess I should just start at the beginning," Sherry said, "except
sometiroes I don't even know where that is anymore So I'll just start
with the hardest part to get out.  Luke didn't kill Nick, Ms.
Mackenzie."  Her gaze had been skittering from Claire's face to the
horizon and back.  Now she looked directly into her eyes.  "I did: '

Claire had braced herself, knowing what was to come, and she managed to
keep from her expression any trace of the emotions roiling within.
Inside she was trembling, with relief for Luke's sake and anguish for
Sherry and her sons.  Outwardly, she was the epitome of professional
control and reassurance as she briefly placed her hand on Sherry's.

"I know, Sherry," Claire told her.  "As I questioned people on Luke's
behalf, the pieces kept falling into place."

Sherry sighed deeply, some of the stiffness leaving her.  "Ms.  Kurtz
said you might have it all figured out.  She said she wasn't a hundred
percent certain what you knew for sure and what you just surmised was
true, but I'm glad I finally said it anyway."  She sighed again and
rubbed her fingertips along her breastbone.  "I already feel like some
of this knot here has been chipped away.  Not that I think saying it
changes anything," she explained hurriedly, as if she feared Claire
might disapprove of her relief.

Claire smiled to reassure her.  "I know you don't think that, Sherry.
And I think I have some idea of how hard this has been for you.  All of
it: '

"There's more," she said.  She licked her lips and pressed them tightly
together.  Claire could guess what it was that she was finding even
harder to confess than murder.  "Nick wasn't my oldest son, Ben's, real
father.  Luke is: '

"I know that, too," Claire said quietly.

The other woman gaped at her, clearly stunned by Claire's response to
her second revelation.  "Luke told you about that?"

"Yes.  I hope you don't mind: '

"Who am I to mind what anyone else says or does?  Especially

Luke.  That man has saved me from my own stupidity -or tried to at
least-more times than I care to count: She turned, resting one elbow on
the bench back, and studied Claire for a few seconds.  "I guess it just
proves my hunch was right: '

"Your hunch?  About what?"

"About Luke being in love with you: '

Claire shifted uneasily.  "L.et's get back to talking about you, shall
we?  You said you wanted my help?  "

"I do.  And in a way, what I just said about Luke being in love with
you is about me."  Seeing Claire's instinctive flinch, she quickly
added, "Not in the way you must be thinking, though.  There was never
anything like that between

Luke and me.  We were friends..  : She shrugged and stared at the toes
of her white sneakers.  "And we were lonely.  Things just sort of
happened.  I'm not particularly proud of that time of my life, but
having Luke for a friend and having him be Ben's father-isn't one of
the things I'm ashamed of."  She slanted a quizzical look Claire's way.
"Am I making any sense at all?"

"

" Yes, " she replied uncertainly.  "

"And no."

The fact that Sherry could smile through her obvious nervousness made
Claire like her more than she was prepared to.

"What I'm trying to say is that I never wanted Luke to take the blame
for something I did.  And now, knowing that he's found you and has even
more reason not to throw away q his life by going to prison, there's no
way I'm going to stand by and let him do what he's planned."

" " Sherry, I admire your honesty, but I think this is some thing that
you and Luke have to work out between you: '

"No," she countered sharply, placing her hand on Claire's arm as she
hitched her purse strap over her shoulder and prepared to rise.  "You
know Luke.  He'll just try and steam roll over me so that he can have
things his own way.  I can't even blame him all that much.  I haven't
done such a great job of arranging things in the past.  But thaYs going
to change," she declared, determination sharpening qer gaze.

"I'm through with secrets and lies and hiding so many different things
from different people that I go crazy trying , to koep straight in my
head who knows what about me.  I've made up my mind to wipe the slate
clean and start fresh, for me and my kids.  And for Luke, too.  I'm
going to tell the ' truth, all of it: '

Her egpression turned imploring.  "ThaYs why I need your help, Ms.
Mackenzie.  Ms.  Kurtz promised that she'll stick right by me no matter
what happens, but I need legal advice, and that she can't give.  This
is so hard for me, and after talking to you the other day, well, I
trust you: She shrugged a little dejectedly.  " I'm not eqen sure who
I'm supposed to go see first, the polioe or a lawyer.  I don't even
know what to say and when to say it.  Will you help me?

Please, Ms.  Mackenzie?  "

Claire had no quick response to offer.  Sherry's request put her in a
very difficult position.  The other woman was vulnerable and scared,
and she was in a lot of trouble.

Wasn't that why Claire had come to Atlantic City in the first place? To
help someone who needed her help?  Did it make such a difference that
the someone who needed her was

Sherry, instead of Luke?

It shouldn't.  Every professional instinct she possessed told her that.
If anything, she was even better prepared to assist

Sherry.  Her belief in Luke had been based on nothing more than a
memory and a whim, while she had already discovered solid evidenoe and
reasonable motive to defend what

Sherry had done.

WhaYs more, she felt a penonal link to Sherry's cause.

What Mona Kurtz had said about the patterns of abuse not being broken
until every woman who was mistreated spoke up about it had struck home
and left her with a new sense of personal responsibility.  She hadn't
had the courage it would have taken for her to speak out twelve years
ago.  Did she have the courage to help Sherry speak out now?  Even if
it meant incurring Luke's wrath, which she had a feeling was exactly
what she would be doing by helping Sherry?  " " I know this is sort of
out of the blue, " Sherry said, the desperation she was feeling was
obvious in her tone and in the way her whole body was straining
forward.  " If you need to take some more time to think it over..  "

Claire shook her head.  "I don't need any more time to think about it,
Sherry.  I don't know how much help I can be.  Technically, I don't
practice law in this state."  Technically She smiled ruefully at the
irony in that.  Then, seeing that Sherry assumed she was backing her
way into a refusal , she broadened her smile encouragingly.  "But if
you want an unofficial advocate, you've got one."

"Are you saying you'll stay and help me?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying.  But before I can do anything to help,
we have to figure out where the beginning is and you have to start
there and tell me everything.  Do you think you can do that?"

Sherry nodded, her own smile shaky, but tinged with hope in a way that
left Claire with no doubt she was doing the right thing.  No matter how
Luke reacted when he heard about it.

This wasn't the first time she had found herself trapped between the
ethical demands of the profession she loved and loyalty to a person
whom she loved even more.  Her father 's hidden involvement in her most
recent case had put her in a very similar position.  Then, she had
bowed to personal loyalty and walked away-no, rccn away-from the
victory that resulted, with a sour taste that in some small, insidious
way had forever changed her attitude toward everyone involved..
including her own father.  And herself.

She wouldn't let that happen again.  Maybe fate had intervened here to
give her a chance to atone for her misjudgment in that case, she
thought, recalling her thwarted attempt earlier to call her father and
tell him she was on her way home.  Sorry, Dad, plans have changed.  She
knew for sure that she'd been given a chance to recapture the feeling
she had the very first time she walked into a law school classroom, as
if she really could make a difference in people 's lives.  And the
prospect excited her now as much as it had then.

She and Sherry sat outside, talking, for over an hour.  When the heat
became oppressive they moved indoors, to a quiet corner booth in a cafe
a short distance from the Delta Queen and the threat of running into
Luke.

At first, Sherry's answers to her questions were rambling and
disjointed.  Claire understood that was because there was so much built
up inside her she had to get out that it was ridiculous to expect it to
flow from her as neatly as a stream running downhill.  This was more
like watch inga geyser that spewed forth in fits and stops.

She also had to consider the painful and embarrassing nature of so much
of what Sherry had to say.  Claire understood that it was sometimes
hard to understand the things you were willing to do, and to endure,
for love, much less share them with someone else.

The fact that she was a stranger might have made it easier for

Sherry, at least in the beginning.  It wasn't long before she stopped
feeling like a stranger, however, and Claire had the sense that Sherry,
too, was gradually lowering her innermost defenses.  Maybe it was
knowing that they each shared a special bond with Luke or simply a
basic feminine drawing together in the face of a kind of brutality they
couldn't fathom, for whatever reason, Sherry was able to open up to
Claire about the details of her life with Nick Addison.  She talked at
length about Nick Addison's pledge to raise Ben as his own son and
about her bright hopes at the start of their marriage.  And about how,
as it all fell apart, disappointment had turoed to pain and fear and an
endless cycle of cruelty and lies that she didn't know how to escape
from.

She confirmed what Luke had told Claire about how Addison's attitude
toward Ben had changed sharply after his own son was boro.  Sherry was
able to supply horrifying firsthand details about his treatment of poor
Ben that Claire was certain she wouldn't have dared reveal to Luke.
Details that made Claire's heart ache for the little boy who hadn't
asked to be caught in such a grown-up war of egos and hatred.  She let
Sherry proceed at her own pace and made a mental note to explore
further the extent of the psychological abuse Addison might have
inflicted on both the boys.

Sherry spoke of holidays that ended in trips to the emergency room,
family outings that disintegrated into public shouting matches, and the
private retaliation that always followed once Nick Addison had his
family where he wanted them, behind closed doors.

It was all horrible and hard to listen to, but Claire sensed Sherry's
agitation increasing sharply as she drew closer to talking about the
actual night of the murder.

"I just wanted him to leave me alone," she said, her delicate chin
quivering as she struggled with the tears that had fallen
intermittently throughout their conversation.  "I thought for sure
after that scene at the shelter that things had changed.  Nick agreed
to the divorce and I just kept telling myself it was over, it was
really over: '

She looked down, pinching the bridge of her nose between her steepled
fingertips.

"But it wasn't?"  Claire prodded gently.

She shook her head.  "It only got worse.  Nick came around the very
next day after the divorce became final and said he just wanted me to
know that he might not have a legal right to me any longer, but he had
other ways of getting what he wanted... the only thing he'd ever wanted
from me, he said: She sniffed back tears.

"Do you know what he meant by that?"

"Oh yeah, I knew, all right.  Sex.  He was talking about sex."

"Do you mean he was threatening to rape you?"  Claire asked, struggling
to keep the anger that was churning inside from her voice.  It wasn't
going to help Sherry for her to succumb to emotion, too.

"He didn't need to rape me," Sherry replied, lifting her tear-streaked
face, her expression full of self-loathing.  "I had no choice but to go
along with whatever he wanted me to do... whenever he wanted it, and
Nick knew it."

"So Nick expected you to sleep with him even after the divorce?"

"He didn't just expect it, he made sure it happened.  And there was no
sleeping involved.  It was..  : She stopped and swallowed hard.  " Sex
for silenoe, he called it," she went on, with a broken attempt at a
laugh that challenged Claire's effort to remain professional.  " It was
very simple.  Unless I went along with whatever he wanted, he would
tell Ben the truth-that he wasn'treally his father.  "

"And you didn't want that?"

She shook her head, dragging in a couple of deep breaths.  " " As
rotten a father as Nick was most of the time, he was the only father
Ben knew.  Nicky was young still, but the divorce and everything it
entailed really bothered Ben.  He's like that-sensitive to what I'm
going through-and he keeps everything he's feeling inside.  Luke's the
same way.  " She glanced quickly at Claire.  " But I'll bet you've
already figured that out.  "

"Yes, I have," she replied.  "So you thought it would upset Ben even
more to know the truth?"

Sherry nodded, her expression grim.  "I know now that I was wrong..
wrong to ever lie about it in the first place and then doubly wrong to
try to cover up the lie with more lies and more secrets.  I guess I
wasn't feeling all that great to begin with about then and I was
worried..  worried what my own kid would think of me if he knew the
truth: " " I can easily understand why you might feel that way, and how
easy it would be for someone to take advantage of your doubts and
fears."  Claire refrained from adding that she could especially
understand it coming from someone who had battered and harangued her
until she was driven from her own home, someone who had destroyed her
hopes and broken her heart and still couldn't leave her alone.  A
bastard like Nick Addison.

"At first he said it would only be a few times," Sherry went on, almost
talking to herself.  "Just till he got me out of his system, he would
say.  But after a while, I knew... I knew it was never going to end."

"Is that why you went to Nick's room the night he was killed, Sherry?
Because he'd told you he wanted to sleep to have sex with you?"

"Yes," she said, averting her gaze.  "He called me at home before I
went to work: '

"And did you have sex with him that night?"

She nodded.  "Yes.  It wasn't even that bad.  Not as bad as" she
shuddered " " other times.  I told him I was on break and it had to be
real quick and it was.  Then when I went Io get dressed, he went to the
other room and came back a minute later, all dressed himself and hold
inga camera : Her jaws snapped together and Claire saw the first hint
that there was deep anger mixed with her pain and r morse.  Everything
inside Claire applauded her spirit.  " " He said I could go back to
work just as soon as he took a few pictures..  for insurance purposes.
He said he wanted some backup in case I ever got to thinking that maybe
Ben was old enough to understand the truth about his real father and
all.  He said if that happened, then Ben would also be old enough to
see the pictures he was going to take, see for himself exactly what a
casino slut his mother was.  "

Claire sat in silent horror while Sherry's shoulders heaved and she
pressed the napkin against her closed eyes.

"Casino slut, thaYs what he called me all the time," she said when she
could speak around her quiet sobs.  "He said that's why he had to up
the ante with pictures, because it was the only thing a casino slut
would understand."

"What happened then, Sherry?  Did he use the camera?"

"No."  Her breath shuddered in and out.  "I was so furious with him, so
damn mad that I guess I attacked him.  I lfnow I knocked the camera
from his hands and it broke.  I took it with me when I left and threw
it in a Dumpster out back.  Right then, though, he was swearing at me
and coming after me.  I tried to grab the rest of my stuff and make it
znto the bathroom.  I figured I could lock the door and stay there
until he calmed down: '

"Did you manage to do that?"

"No.  I couldn't.  He grabbed me and started slapping me and pushing
me."  She gritted her teeth and stared into her empty icqtea glass.  "
" He ripped my costume, over here near the strap," she added,
demonstrating on her jersey.  " I don't remember everything in order. I
just remember my purse falling, and suddenly the gun was lying right
there on the floor between us.  I was sort of surprised to see it,
really.  Nick saw it, too, and the way he looked at it, then looked at
me, I knew he really hated me.  And I knew that he was madder than I'd
ever seen him.  And I was afraid if I didn't grab the gun first, he
would get it and-and.  : '

She rested her elbows on the table and put her face in her cupped
palms.  Claire waited a minute or so.

"So you picked up the gun.  Is that what happened next, Sherry?  "

Sherry nodded without looking up.  Again Claire waited.  Finally Sherry
lifted her gaze and met hers.

"I didn't mean to shoot him.  I never meant to kill him.... I didn't
even want to hurt him, really."  Her voice grew soft,
with a wistfulness Claire found hard to bear.  "I just wanted him to
leave me alone:"

"I believe you, Sherry," Claire told her.  She covered Sherry's hands
with her own.  "And so will whoever else listens to your story.  If
you're sure this is really what you want to do."

"It is what I want.  I've never been more sure of anything in my life.
I meant it when I said I'm through with letting lies and secrets run my
life.  Whatever happens has to be better than that: '

"What about Ben and Nicky?"

"It will be better for them, too," she replied, her jaw tipped upward
with determqnation.  "After what they've been through, they can handle
the truth: She smiled gently'I want Ben to know what a wonderful man
his father really is.  In fact, knowing that he'll finally have a
chance to really get to know Luke is sort of the silver lining in all
this: She sighed, her smile sad.  " I've wasted so much time, Ms.
Mackenzie.  "

"Sherry, I have to be honest with you.  I can't guarantee there won't
be more wasted time ahead for you.  What I'm trying to say is that
although I think you have a very strong chance of being acquitted of
all charges, stronger than ever after what you've told me today, it's
still only that, a chance.  There are no absolute sure bets in a
courtroom: '

"I understand that: '

"And you still want to go ahead?"

" " I still want to go ahead.  Even if I didn't know it was the right
thing to do, for me and for my boys, I would want to do it for Luke.  "
She smiled at Claire across the table littered with tearstained
napkins.  " That man deserves a shot at real happiness and I think
you're it, but he can hardly expect a lady like you to wait around
while he spends twenty or so years in prison: '

Claire marveled that Sherry was able to even consider anyone else's
feelings right now, much less let them influence her decision.

"Last night I told Luke that you were lucky to have him for a friend,"
she said to Sherry.  "I think that works both ways: " qanks.  All I
know is that when I was pregnant with Ben, Luke did everything he could
to try to help me.  He wanted to do right by me and the baby, he really
did.  But he was a gambler and a little bit wild, and I was too stupid
and too afraid to take a chance on him back then.  " She smiled at
Claire.  " " I think I owe it to Luke to take a chance for him now: '

Chapter 13

Claire checked back into the Delta Queen without requesting the suite
next to Luke's.  This time she was given a room on the third floor and
in the opposite wing from his.  Which was for the best.  Something told
her she was going to want to be able to put as much distance as
possible between them when he found out why she'd decided to stay in
Atlantic City a while longer.

She unpacked and then phoned Gerald Rancourt, arranging to meet with
him in his office later in the afternoon Once there, she discussed the
changed situation with Gerald and left it to him to relay the news to
Luke.  After all, technically Luke wasn't her client.  Or her anything
else, for that matter.

From there she drove directly to St.  Michael's and picked up Mona
Kurtz.  She had invited Mona to dinner hoping to get to know more about
Sherry.  She did, but she also got to know more about Mona Kurtz, as
well, and ended up liking and admiring the other woman even more than
she had at their first meeting.

She was surprised to discover that Mona had been a math professor
before becoming involved in establishing the women's shelter at St.
Michael's.

"Somehow teaching logarithms never energized me the way help inga woman
find the courage to take charge of her own life has: '

"I know what you mean," Claire agreed, taking a sip of coffee as they
lingered at the small Italian restaurant Mona , had recommenderl,
enjoying their conversation too much to , leave.  "As sad as it is to
think about what's happened to

Sherry and her kids, and what the three of them still might have to go
through before this is all over, there's also something wonderful about
the way she's determined to turn her life around, starting right this
minute.  " , " Why, Claire, I do believe I see a tear in your eye,"
Mona exclaimed, her own dark eyes flashing mischievously.  " Are !  you
sure you're happy be inga financial lawyer?  "

"No," Claire said, surprising both of them a little by admitting it so
readily.  "But right now I don't seem to have time to think about it:
'

"Well, when you do have time," Mona countered, "and if you decide to
try following your heart, instead of your head for a change, thqk about
following it back here.I promise to send you all the work you can
handle.  Maybe not much in the way of fancy fees," she teased, "but
plenty of good hard work: '

"Fees are always negotiable," Claire said, laughing.  I "And who knows?
One of these days I just might take you up on the offer."

Once again she was late getting back to the hotel and went straight to
her room.  She wasn't exactly avoiding Luke; she just wasn't crazy
enough to go out of her way looking for the confrontation she was sure
they were going to have the next time they met.

There was a message waiting for her from Gerald.  As promised, he'd
arranged a meeting with the DA.  to discuss the new developments in the
case and to make preliminary arrangements for Sherry to turn herself in
to the police.  Ordinarily such a meeting would take place in the DA: s
office and would most likely be done in several stages, each one
including only the parties immediately involved in that aspect of the
discussion.

However, as Claire had discovered, there was very little ordinary about
this case.  The DA.  had agreed to Sherry's request that the meeting be
held at St.  Michael's, where she felt more comfortable.  It was also
agreed that she would have both Mona and Claire with her for moral
support and that there be only one meeting with everyone present to
hear what she had to say.  Sherry was adamant that there be no more
misunderstandings or half-truths to haunt her later.

The meeting was scheduled for the following morning.  Claire wasn't
sure what Gerald told Luke about the meeting beforehand, only that he
definitely hadn't told him she would be there.  He was the last to
arrive, and he was noticeably jolted when he saw her sitting beside
Sherry.

He wasn't alone in being jolted.  After only one day apart, the sight
of him in a dark suit, light blue shirt and subtly patterned silk tie
was so seqiuctive to Claire's senses that she was glad she was sitting
down, with her shaking knees hidden beneath the shelter's sturdy dining
room table.

The homey atmosphere made the gathering seem less ominous and probably
less frightening to Sherry.  She had arrived early with Ben and Nicky,
who were now romping outside with the other children presently living
there.  The sound of their laughter and the roar of plastic tires
streaking across pavement filtered through the open windows.  Another
time their youthful exuberance might have been infectious, but not
today.

Standing just inside the room, Luke glanced around the table, taking
note of everyone present.

"What's going on here?"  he demanded, his tone already clipped enough
for Claire to take warning.  "Rancourt?"  he said, the name alone a
demand as his gaze honed in on the attorney seated at one end of the
long table.  "I assumed that this meeting was to include only
ourselves, Sherry and Ms.  Kurtz.  What gives?"

"I'm sorry, Luke.  I didn't mean to mislead you.  Why don't you have a
seat and I'll introduce everyone?"

Luke ignored the invitation to sit.  His neck above his collar was dark
red, his eyes so black with impending fury that Claire avoided looking
into them.

"This is Terrence Dowling," Gerald said, indicating the attorney from
the DA.  "s office who sat across from him.  Dowling was a tall, rugged
man with receding gray hair and a reassuring, almost paternal smile.
Deceptively so, Claire was certain.  " He represents-"

"I know who he is," Luke interrupted, "The question is, what is he
doing here?"

Dowling looked at Gerald.  Gerald looked at Mona, who looked at Claire.
Claire took a deep breath, but it was Sherry who spoke.

"Sit down, Luke.  Mr.  Dowling is here because I'm going to do
something I should have done two weeks ago.  No, longer than that...
years ago.  But like they say, better late than never " She flashed
Luke a brave smile.  q Understanding flickered in Luke's eyes.  He
shook his head and leaned over the back of the chair, instead of
sitting in it as Sherry had requested.  Hands braced on the table , he
stared at her with a desperation that was painful to see.  "Don't do
this, Sherry.  You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," Sherry replied, patting his hand reassuringly Claire felt
a burning at the back of her eyelids.  "I really do, Luke.  You see,
when you come right down to it, this isn't about you or Nick or the
kids, it's about me, and me being able to live with myself So please,
sit down and let me do what I came here to do.  Tell the truth: '

Sherry told the truth.  All of it, and there was no one in the room,
even among those who had heard most of it before who was not shaken by
her story.  It was humanly impossible not to be deeply affected by her
simple telling of the horrors that had gone on just beneath the surface
of her seemingly normal, everyday family life.

It was Dowling's role to remain detached and unmoved , but Claire saw
the muscle that ticked convulsively in his cheek as he listened to the
worst of it and observed him wipe his palms on the legs of his trousers
a time or two.  Damp palms were a very good sign, she thought.

She found Luke's responses, or lack of them, much less encouraging.  He
sat absolutely still, his expression unwavering throughout, even as he
learned for the first time how depraved Addison really was, how
despicably he had tried : to use Sherry's love for her son-Luke's
son-as a weapon against her.

Luke didn't speak.  He didn't need to.  It was clear from the start of
the meeting that control of the matter had been taken out of his hands
and returned to Sherry, where it rightfully belonged.  Although Claire
was quite certain that

Luke didn' tsee it that way.

During the past two weeks she'd seen him hotheaded and short of
patience.  She'd seen him fight for control and she'd seen him lose it,
but this was something else.  Something much more alarming.  He was too
still, too cold, too controlled Especially for a man whose eyes burned
like twin coals.  Any jury watching him and looking into those eyes
would have no doubt that he was a man fully capable of murder and a
great deal more.

The meeting ended.  Dowling didn't officially commit his office to
offer inga reduced charge of manslaughter, but in all the trial
conferences she'd attended, she'd never seen a prosecutor come so
close.  Even his demeanor toward Sherry during his brief questioning of
her had been extremely encouraging , and Claire allowed herself to feel
the first sweet stirring of success.  The procedure for Sherry to turn
herself in the following day was agreed upon and everyone began
gathering their things to leave.

Luke stood first.  Again he slapped his palms down at the center of the
table, only this time his gaze locked on Claire.

"I hope to God you're happy," he growled at her.

He was gone before Claire could respond.

"Don't be upset, Claire.  I'll talk to him," Sherry said.

"No," Claire said, seeing red.  "I'll talk to him myself."

She caught up with him on the steps outside.  He'd rtached the bottom
as the front door banged shut behind her.

"Just a minute, Luke Cabrio."

He stopped, then slowly turned back to her, his hands jammed into his
pants pockets, a scowl on his face that Claire thought better suited to
one of the children now playing baseball in the side yard.

"I have nothing to say to you," he told her.

"How convenient.  That leaves more time for me to talk and I have
plenty to say to you: '

"I'm listening," he drawled, while everything from his tough-guy stance
to the sardonic twist of his lips declared the opposite.

"Oh, what's the use," she muttered.  "You were right, your mind has
been made up from the start: Frustrated, she shoved her own hands in
the pockets of her yellow suit jacket and discovered what she'd done
with the missing piece of his puzzle.  " Here," she said, getting ready
to toss it to him.  " A going-away present for you: '

He kept his hands hidden in his pockets.  "Whatever it is, keep it. You
gave me more than enough while you were here."

His sarcasm fueled the temper Claire was trying to be mature enough to
control.  " " You're right, I gave you plenty, but you're too stubborn
and shortsighted to know it.  If you ever figure it out, give me a
call.  "

She ran down the steps, but Luke stepped forward to block her path to
her car.

"If you're talking about the night before last," he said, "that was
something we both wanted to happen."

" " Please, " she retorted, raking him with a disparaging look that
didn't seem to phase him, but definitely helped buoy her self-esteem at
that moment.  " I know exactly what that night meant.  to both of us.
Much better than you do, I'd venture.  "

She watched as his olive complexion was heated by a tinge of red.
Apparently he wasn't comfortable talking about what that night meant to
him.  Shouldn't be any big surprise for her there, Claire realized.

"All right then, what do you figure you gave me that I don't know
about?  Legal advice?  I already thanked you for that, in spite of the
fact that I didn't ask for it and damn well don't like the end result.
Send me a bill: '

"You jerk," she snapped, throwing the puzzle piece at him.  It hit his
chest and dropped to the ground.  " " That's not the only piece you're
missing, Cabrio.  I'm not talicingabout legal advice, I'm talking about
your son: '

His gaze narrowed as if she'd struck him, then swung instinctively to
where the little boy was pitch inga softball to a bigger kid swing inga
plastic bat.  The look of anguish that filled his eyes almost made
Claire sorry she'd snapped at him.  Almost.

"Ben?"  he queried softly.  "You're talking about Ben?"

"That's right.  Since as far as you're concerned I'm entirely to blame
for how this turned out, I might as well take the credit for the good
part: '

"There's a good part?"  he inquired, reverting to sarcasm' Sorry I must
have blinked and missed it.  " " "Then take another look.  If you
weren't so busy feeling sorry for yourself for getting knocked off your
white charger in the middle of the battle, you might realize that you
haven't lost a prison sentence, you've gained a son "

"A son who needs his mother," he retorted, but his voice had lost some
of its bitter edge and his gaze once again found Ben and lingered.

"He'll have his mother," Claire said firmly.  "Even I would be willing
to bet the ranch on that.  But now maybe, just maybe, he'll have a
father, too: '

He flicked her a wary glance before returning his attention to Ben.
"What do you mean... maybe?"

"It's up to you.  You want to be a real hero, Luke?  There's your
chance."  She nodded toward Ben as he got ready to hurl the ball again.
"Or are you really still stuck in that same old rut, believing that if
you don't try, you can't fail?"

The batter connected with the ball and knocked it in their direction.
It rolled to a stop at Luke's feet.  He bent and picked it up, but
before he could toss it back, Ben had trotted over to retrieve it
himself.

"Here you go," Luke said, his voice revealingly gruff.

"Thanks," Ben said, cupping his hand for the toss.  His grin made
Claire's heart clench.  She could only imagine what it was doing to
Luke.  "I remember you.  Luke, right?  You're my mom's friend."

Luke froze with the ball still in his hand.  "That's right.  I'm...
friends with your mom."

"I,m Ben."

"I know.  I know who you are, Ben."

The boy shrugged.  " " I just thought I'd remind you, in case you
forgot my name and were embarrassed or something.  "

Son rescues father Claire thought, her throat tightening.  A noble
family tradition continues.

"No, I didn't forget."  He turned the ball in his hand.  " " You know,
Ben, you'd get more power on your pitch if you tightened your windup,
closed the angle of your stance a little.  "

Ben looked bewildered, but interested.  "Could you show me?"

Claire saw the cords in Luke's throat tighten as he fought for control
before answering.

"Yeah," he said, a smile overpowering his face.  "Yeah I can show you.
Come on: '

Ben trotted to keep up with Luke's longer stride as they headed,
side-by-side, toward the improvised pitcher's mound.

Luke didn't look back at her.  Claire didn't expect him to.

She walked over to her car and watched as Luke demonstrated and Ben
mimicked a series of arm and leg movements that all looked pretty silly
to her.  After a few minutes she slid behind the wheel, and after a few
minutes more Sherry came outside with Nicky.

As Claire drove away, Nicky had charged the pitcher's mound, with his
mom in hot pursuit.  A real family moment

She didn't envy any of them the long road of explanations and
adjustments that lay ahead.  But to her amazement , she sure envied the
moment.

Chapter 14

It took several days for everything discussed at the meeting to be
enacted.  Claire surrendered to the police.  Reduced charges of
manslaughter were filed against her and she pleaded not guilty by
reason of self-defense and was re ' leased on bail.  So far, the press
coverage had been both restrained and favorable.  Mona had friends in
all kinds of places, as it turned out.  Everyone, including Sherry, was
optimistic.

Ten years ago she wouldn't have stood much chance of find inga
sympathetic jury or even one predisposed to listening with an open mind
to the prolonged and complicated chain of events that had led her to be
in Addison's hotel room, hold inga gun, the night he was killed.
Fortunately , times had changed.  Public sentiment had changed.

Sherry was in a position to help teach people even more and she was
eager to do it.  She was already doing something she told Claire she
had been thinking about doing for a long time, volunteer inga few hours
a week at the shelter.

Claire found the other woman's courage to be a tremendous
inspiration.

Gerald Rancourt was officially assigned to defend Sherry, and they hit
it off from the start.  She seemed to genuinely appreciate Gerald's
slick brand of humor, and Gerald went way up in Claire's estimation
because he seemed to genuinely appreciate Sherry's sweet nature.

From Sherry she had heard that she and Luke together told Ben the truth
about his father, wanting him to know about it before the trial began
and it was reported by the press.  He was taking it as well as a
seven-year-old could be expected to.

From Luke she heard nothing.  The charges against him had been
dismissed.  He was officially a free man.  And an invisible one, it
seemed to Claire.  As she moved through the hotel, she was always
braced to round a corner or step from an elevator and find him suddenly
in front of her.  She wasn't sure whether she was braced because she
wanted to run into him or was dreading it, only that she was becominga
little paranoid waiting for it to happen.

Except it didn't happen.  And after a while, she had to stop kidding
herself or feigning confusion.  She wanted to run into Luke.  She
wanted him to grab her and kiss her the way he had on the elqator and
tell her that he was as madly in love with her as she was with him and
that he couldn't live without her.

Barring that, she'd at least like a modicum of closure before she left
town.

There was really no logical reason for her to stay any longer.  She'd
promised Sherry to keep in touch and return for the actual trial.  If
they needed her input as it drew closer, she could easily provide it
from her office in Providence.

If she still had an office in Providence, she thought, sighing as she
strolled along the boardwalk in the direction of the Delta Queen.  It
was hot and she was reduced to souvenir shopping as an excuse for
sticking around an extra day or so.  She hoped the sweatshirt
emblazoned with neon dice would soothe her father's ruffled feathers.
They had finally spoken and he had made it clear that he expected her
back at her desk first thing Monday morning.  Or else.

He had no way of knowing there was nothing he could threaten her with
that could hurt her any more than she was already hurting.

Today was Friday.  Not much room to maneuver between then and Monday.
Especially when you considered that Mona had invited her to have lunch
on Monday so that she could introduce Claire to a friend of hers, an
attorney who did a great deal of pro bono work on behalf of abused
women and had a thriving practice besides.  The woman was, according to
Mona, very interested in taking on a partner, the right partner.  Mona
insisted Claire was the right partner Claire was ashamed to admit that
she was too lovesick to give much serious thought to her own future.
Career-wise, that is.  She thought about the possibility of a future
with Luke all the time.

She wanted him to call.

She wanted to see him.

She wanted him.

Returoing to her room, she let herself in and tossed the bag containing
the sweatshirt and a dozen postcards she didn't have the energy to send
onto the bed.  She turned to close the door and knew instantly that she
wasn't alone.

She was intended to know.  Luke's jacket hung on the inside doorknob.
She turned slowly, purposely avoiding looking at the chair in the
corner by the windows.

She noticed his shoes, lying where they had been kicked off by the foot
of the bed.  She stepped over them on her way to the phone.  Lifting
the receiver, she depressed the disconnect button with the index finger
of her other hand and spoke into the dead receiver.

"Front desk?  I'd like to report an intruder in my room."

"Can you describe him, ma'am?"  Luke asked from behind her.  She hadn't
heard him get up from the chair, and his laconic tone suggested he
wasn't about to do so in any hurry.

"Yes," she said, still speaking into the phone.  "He's stubborn and
pigheaded and utterly impossible to reason with: '

"Stubborn, pigheaded and impossible, hmm?  Could you be a little more
specific, ma'am?"

" " Yes.  He also has an annoying habit of showing up where he's not
wanted.  "

"Maybe he's hoping he is wanted there."

Claire's heart contracted.  "Maybe he should have thought of that
sooner: '

"You have to be patient with the stub boro ones, ma'am.  They can be a
little slow figuring some things out: '

"IYs not always easy to be patient."

"Just because iYs not easy doesn't mean it won't be fun "

She heard the chair springs squeak and then his footsteps , three soft
thuds against the carpet, coming closer.

"So do you want me to send someone to remove this intruder from your
room, or can you handle him yourself?"

She had pulled her hair up off her neck to stay cool and he was
standing so close she could feel his warm breath on her skin.  Her
spine turned to water.

"Oh, I could handle him myself," she said.  "If I chose to.  I'm just
not sure I'm in the mood right now: '

"In that case I'll get the head of security right on it," Luke
promised, leaning closer still, making her senses spin.  " " In the
meantime, try and keep him occupied .  "

"How do you suggest I do that?"

"You really want to know, ma'am?"

Claire wet her lips.  "If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked."

He took the phone from her hand and dropped it back into the cradle.  "
" Turn around, Claire.  "

Claire slowly turned to face him.

He looked so good to her.  She had to fight to keep from tossing her
pride and the memory of the past few days of silence aside and just
throwing herself into his arms.

He held out his hand, palm up.  In it rested a small box wrapped in
silver paper.  "A going-away present," he said.  " " I figured
turnabout was fair play.  "

"A going-away present?"  she asked, eyeing it with much less interest
than she actually felt.  "Who says I'm going anywhere

"I figured you'd have to get back to work one of these days: " "Maybe.
Mona told me about a position here in Atlantic

City and I'm considering it.  It would probably mean a cut in pay, but
I'd be a full partner, doing the kind of work I want to do.  "

"I hope you do take it," Luke said.  "The present is yours, either
way."  He moved it closer to her.  "I'm not sure I'm in the mood for
presents, either," she said, afraid of what was in the tiny, square
box, afraid it would rush her toward a decision she wasn't ready to
face.

She needed to hear more from him first.  Much more.  " " You have to
take it.  I've been waiting two days for it to ; be ready, calling the
jeweler every hour to check on it, nagging him to finish so that I
could pick it up and bring it to you.  I couldn't wait to see you,
Claire.  "

"You couldn't wait to see me?"  she countered, shaking her head.  "Yet
you waited until a jeweler finished whatever is in that box to come
here?  That doesn't make sense

Luke.  Not that that should surprise me.  "

"I had to wait," he told her, his voioe revealing nerves stretched taut
over time.  A few days' worth of time, at least.

"I couldn't come here without it because I didn't know what to say to
you.  I'm hoping this says all the things I want to say, or at least
helps me to get started.  Open it, Claire."

She stared at the box.  "No."  I "Noq"

"No," she repeated, putting her hands behind her back.  "No.  I don't
want to open it.  I don't want to give you even a smidgen of a reason
to think you can hurl accusations and blame at me-unfairly, I might
add-and then ignore me, leave me hanging this way for days, and think
you can come in here with ssme stupid ring and"

"IYs not a stupid ring: '

"I'm sorry, some wonderful, beautiful ring, the most beautiful ring in
the whole world, and"

"Claire, do yourself a favor before you say anything else.  Open the
box: '

Claire might have ignored his warning, if not for the hint of amusement
lurking beneath it.  She took the box and opened it and felt like an
idiot.

"See?"  he said.  "It's not a ring: '

"No, it certainq isn't: She stared at it.  " It's a puzzle piece.  "

"Eighteen karat gold-plated," Luke said.

"It's a gold-plated puzzle piece."

"Look familiar?  It's the piece you threw at me outside the shelter."

"You had a jeweler make a copy?"  she asked, lifting it from the box. A
fine gold chain was threaded through a small loop at the top.

"It's not a copy.  I told you, I had it gold-plated.  He messed up the
hole the first time and I had to wait an extra day.  You can wear it
around your neck, if you want: '

She looked up and saw his face become shadowed and vulnerable and
realized that the cool, sophisticated Luke Cabrio, gambler and rescue
artist extraordinaire, was nervous At that instant, the most beautiful
ring in the world couldn't have meant as much to her as the gold pi ere
in her hand.

"I love it," she told him.  "But now there'll always be a piece missing
from your puzzle

Luke felt a surge of frustration.  "Claire, I don't give a damn about
the puzzle.  I'm more conceroed with the piece that's missing from my
life."  He took a deep breath and reached down deep for more courage
than he'd ever needed !  to break up a fight in the casino or toss a
drunk from one of ; the bars.  "That missing piece is you," he told
her.  "I was i sort of hoping that giving this to you would get the
message across without me having to actually say it all."

"Say it, Luke."

"It's not easy."

"Just because it's not easy doesn't mean it can't be fun: '

She stretched to put her arms around his neck and sidled up against
him.  " " Better?  "

"Feels better.  Doesn't make it any easier to come up with the words
for what I want to say, though.  So I'm just going !  to say it.  You
were right," he told her, his hands resting ; lightly on her hips.  She
was wearing some kind of soft, j gauzy blouse over shorts and it felt
great.  Her nearness slowly slipped the leash off a craving that had
been several long, lonely days in the making.

"Right about what?"  she asked.

"About me being afraid I was afraid.  Afraid to let myi self become too
important in anyone else's life because I might screw up somehow, the
way my old man always did, j the way I've seen so many people do.  I
didn't want to be like I him in any way."

"You're not," Claire insisted, moving her hand to his cheek, stroking
him in a move as dangerous as wavinga match near spilled gasoline.  " "
From what you've told me, I know you could never be like him: '

"In some ways, no," he said.  He caught her hand and held it still
against his cheek before her touch drove him crazy.  "In others, we're
more alike than I want to think.  He was a great one for taking the
easy way out, and so am I."

"The easy way out?  Luke Cabrio, if there's one thing I will never
accuse you of doing it's taking the easy way out: '

" " I do.  It's just that the easy way for me is different from what it
was for my father, different from most folks, I guess.  The easiest
thing for me to do is always to get involved physically to put a stop
to anything I can't deal with emotionally I'd try to stop my father
from hitting my mother.  I stopped those guys from hurting you when I
really wanted you myself.  I can take the heat for Sherry, but I can't
face having Ben know I'm his father.  You called it-I come riding in on
my white charger and then get away fast, before I have to live up to
anyone's expectations.  Before I have to find out for sure if I can
live up to my own.  "

She rested her head lightly on his chest, giving him all the time he
needed to continue.

"This time I can't do that," he said finally.  "I don't want to get
away from Ben.  Or from you: His tone reflected the amaze menthe still
felt at that discovery.  " I love you, Claire.  I want you to stay here
with me.  I want you to marry me.  If you don't, you'll always be the
pieoe missing from my life.  "

"Oh, Luke..  : '

"I don't expect you to answer right now.  I know I hurt you, left you
hanging.  I know I'm a poor risk-"

"Funny you should mention risk," she interrupted, gazing at him with a
smile that lit up her face.  " " Did you know that even for us diehard
non gambling types, there's always one particular risk we can never
turn down?  "

He shook his head, afraid to hope.  Him, the hotshot gambler, afraid to
risk it.

"You're my risk," she whispered.

"You mean it?  You'll marry me?  I know it will be a big adjustment for
you to make."

"How big an adjustment can it be?  I already have a job offer.  You
have a great suite here at the hotel," she teased.

"I don't expect you to live here.  I'll tell Max it's regular hours for
me from now on.  I'll buy a house.  With a big fenced yard."

"Where you can teach Ben and Nicky to play ball: '

" " And where I can make love to you under the stars.  " His mouth
dropped to cover hers, his tongue tracing the soft contours of her
lips.  " I've actually dreamed about that, you know.  Over and over.
"

"What a coincidence."

"You've dreamed about making love with me under the stars?"  His hands
reached inside her shirt, touching, searching, inviting.

She swayed against him, accepting.  "No.  But I've dreamed a lot about
making love with you in a gym.  Does that count?  "

"It counts.  Under the stars, in a gym, underwater ... it all
counts."

His hands closed over her breasts.

She moaned softly and said, "Underwater?"

"Did I mention the yard also has to have a pool?"  he asked, bringing
his lips to her throat.

"I don't think so "

"

" And a Jacuzzi: '

Her head fell back.  "Mmm:"

"A swing set."

"Strictly for the boys' use, of course," she whispered.

"Want to bet?"

"On you?  Always, Luke, always: '