Cullen's Child [070-4.0]

By: Dallas Schulze

Synopsis:

Romance.

A Note from Dallas Schulze said casually.  I tried to muffle my
whimper of dread.  Give me a choice between writing about myself and
walking barefoot over hot coals, and the coals win out every time.

It's just so hard to know what to say.  I haven't lived in exotic
places or done exotic things.  I've lived in California for over twenty
years now, most of them spent married to a really terrific guy who
makes my life complete.

I have more hobbies than you can shake a stick at, assuming you had a
stick you wanted to shake.  I like to cook, especially to bake.  If
there's a needle craft I haven't tried, it's only because I haven't
heard of it yet.

My current passion is quilting, but I also cross-stitch and knit.  I
collect dolls and dress them--the fancier and more intricate the
garment, the better.

I love to garden, though I don't have as much time for it as I'd like.
My reigning passion is writing, of course.  Give me a notebook and pen
and I can occupy myself for hours.

When I was asked to contribute to A Special Love, my first response
was, "Me?"  After all, I'm not anybody's mother, unless you count my
very spoiled calico cat, and I think she considers me more slave than
parent.

Then my editor told me the theme for the book was babies, and I thought
that here was something I could sink my teeth into--metaphorically
speaking, of course.  Who can resist a baby'?

Who'd want to?  So I thought up a story about a woman who thinks she
has a
very good reason for resisting a particular baby, and I put a baby
smack-dab in the middle of her life.  I hope you enjoyed reading the
end result as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter One A baby had never been part of the bargain.

Darcy Logan's expression was grim as she stared out the car window at
the rain-washed scenery.  The weather matched her mood, bleak and gray.
She'd never been to Washington before and she hadn't seen anything yet
to make her regret that lack.  Oh, it was green and lush all right, but
in the week since she and Cullen had arrived, she hadn't gotten more
than a glimpse of the sun.

It had been raining when they'd landed at the airport.  It had been
raining when they'd fit tended Susan Roberts's funeral and it had
continued to rain in the five days since then.  She was starting to
think it never did anything else.

Of course, the weather was appropriate, considering the event that had
brought them here.  Cullen's sister had been two years short of her
fortieth birthday when she died from cancer, leaving behind a
six-month-old baby girl.

Darcy shivered.  She'd never met Susan but her heart ached for what the
other woman must have gone through.  How terrible to be facing your own
death when you should have been dealing with 2:00 a. m. feedings and
diaper rash.

Cullen had taken his sister's death hard, she thought, glancing at
him.

Grief had carved lines that bracketed his mouth and had left a dulled
sheen in his eyes.  He hadn't been sleeping.  She knew that because she
hadn't been, either.

Especially not the last couple of days since Cullen had told her that
Susan had left her baby in his care.

Darcy's first reaction had been disbelief.  And when Cullen had made it
clear that he had every intention of fulfilling his sister's request,
panic had taken over, closing her throat and making her heart pound.

"I owe it to her," he'd said before she could get out any of the words
of denial.

"Don't make any quick decisions."  She was amazed by how level her
voice was.

You'd never know that she felt like screaming her denial to the
world.

"There's no decision to make.  Susan made me the baby's guardian.  She
masted me to do what's right for her."

"That doesn't necessarily mean that you have to raise her yourself,"

Darcy had protested reasonably.  "Susan trusted you to make the right
decision for her baby, but that could mean that somebody else" --
"There is no one else."

The flat statement had made her feel like an animal in a trap.

"What about your parents?  Susan lived with them.  She must have
trusted them.  They're the baby's grandparents.  They might welcome a
chance to raise her."

"No."  Cullen had turned away from the window of their hotel room and
looked at her, his eyes bleak.  "The last thing she would have wanted
was for my parents to raise her baby.  That's why Susan made me her
guardian, because she knew I'd never let that happen."

Darcy had stared at him, bewilderment and panic churning inside her.

"But you said she lived with them."

"Because they made sure she was incapable of doing anything else,"
Cullen had said bitterly.

"I don't understand."

"You will when you meet my parents.  I don't think I can explain it to
you before then."  He'd picked his denim jacket up off the bed.

"Let's get some lunch."

And Darcy; too shaken to pursue the discussion, had followed him from
the room and eaten a meal that could have been sawdust for all the
attention she'd paid to it.

That had been yesterday and now, here they were, about to pick up
Cullen's niece.  About to destroy the happiness she'd found these past
few months.

"This is it."  Cullen's flat announcement dragged her out of her
thoughts.

He pulled the car over next to the curb.

Darcy glanced at the house, seeing a neat, two-story brick building
bracketed by tidy flower beds.  The white trim extended to the
perfectly centered wooden porch, which housed a metal glider covered in
pastel floral cushions.

All in all a pleasant, if not particularly inspired, picture. Certainly
nothing to cause the bleak expression in Cullen's eyes.  He couldn't
have
looked more grim if the view had been a bombed-out inner city block
rather than a plainly affluent suburban neighborhood.  : She struggled
with the urge to reach out and smooth the lines from beside his mouth.
Despite the fact that they'd been lovers for eight months and had lived
together for the last five of those months, she wasn't sum she had a
right to try to soothe his pain.

They'd met at a party given by a mutual friend.  By the end of the
evening Cullen had persuaded her to go out with him, despite the fact
that she'd avoided even the most shallow of entanglements for the past
s'~x years.  But she'd been alone so long and he'd refused to take no
for an answer.  He'd made her laugh, something she'd done precious
little of lately.  So she'd agreed to go out with him, telling herself
that her agreement had nothing to do with the fact that he made her
heart beat a little too fast.

A week later she'd found herself in bed with him.  Three months after
that, when he'd found out that her apartment building was about to be
turned into condos, Cullen had suggested that she move in with him.

She'd refused, feeling that odd little flutter of panic that came with
the thought of getting close to someone again.  But he'd pointed out
that she'd spent every weekend at his place, not to mention two or
three nights a week.

She was practically living there, anyway.

Besides, everyone knew that two could live cheaper than one.  Think of
the money they'd save.

It was a silly argument.  Neither one of them had any real financial
worries.

Cullen and his partner ran a very successful construction firm in Santa
Barbara.

Darcy's salary as loan officer in a small bank might not put her in the
Fortune 500 but she made enough to be comfortable.  Living together had
nothing ~to do with saving money and they both knew it.

Still, she'd let herself be persuaded.  The truth was, Cullen filled up
some of the empty spaces in her heart.  He was like a fire on a cold,
snowy night and she couldn't resist the urge to draw closer to him, to
warm herself on his heat.

Five months later her heart was still turning over in her chest every
time she looked at him.  Not that it came as any surprise.  Cullen
Roberts had probably been stirring heart palpitations in women since
he'd reached puberty.

Darcy looked at him, trying to define what it was about him that made
him so impossibly attractive.  His dark brown hair was worn just long
enough and shaggy enough to make a woman want to run her fingers
through it.  His eyes were a clear, vivid blue and always seemed to be
laughing, even when his mouth was solemn.  And when he did smile. Well,
a smart woman would run for cover, Darcy thought.  She'd always
considered herself a smart woman but she hadn't run far enough or fast
enough.

But he wasn't smiling now.  He was staring out the windshield, his
hands still gripping the wheel, his mouth tight, his eyes bleak.

Darcy noticed that he still hadn't looked at his parents' house, the
house where he'd grown up.

"It's a very pretty house," she said when the si-lenee had stretched
to uncomfortable lengths.

"Looks like a nice neighborhood to grow up in."

Looks like a great place for a motherless baby, she wanted to say~ but
didn't.

"I haven't been back here in seventeen years," he said, finally turning
to look at the house.

"When I left, I swore I'd never come back."

The uncharacteristic bitterness in his voice startled her.  Since he'd
never mentioned them, she'd assumed he wasn't close to his parents.

And the fact that they hadn't exchanged so much as a word at his
sister's funeral had confirmed the accuracy of that assumption.  But
the old anger that toughened his voice still caught her off guard.

"I guessed there were ... problems between you and your parents," she
said hesitantly.

"But seventeen years is a long time."

"Not long enough.  I wouldn't have stayed as long as I did if it hadn't
been for Susan."  The name cracked in the middle, his mouth twisting
with pain as he thought of his dead sister.

Darcy touched the back of his hand where it was clenched on the
steering wheel.  This was the first time either of them had faced any
sort of personal crisis and she was uncertain about offering him
comfort.  She'd barely known he had a sister until the early-morning
call last week that had told him of her death.

"I should have come back for her," he said abruptly.

"I shouldn't have let her stay here."

"She wasn't a child, Cullen.  She was four years older than you are.

If she chose to stay, there was nothing you could do about it.  " "You
don't know Susan.  She isn't--wasn't," he corrected painfully, "strong
the way you are.  She didn't have the ability to stand up for herself.
She'd stand up for me but never for herself."

Strong like her?  God, did he really believe she was strong?  She must
he a better actress than she'd realized, Darcy thought bitterly, if
she'd kept him from seeing just how weak she really was.

"Still, she was thirty-eight years old, Cullen.  And she had a job at a
day-care center.  She didn't have to live with your parents.  She could
have moved out."

Cullen was already shaking his head.  He shot her a look that said she
didn't understand.

"You don't know my parents."  Without another word, he pushed open his
car door and got out.

Darcy fumbled with her seat belt, aware that her fingers were
trembling.  She had to talk to him before he saw his parents.  Ever
since he'd told her what was in Susan's will, she'd been trying to find
the words to say what needed to be said.  But they needed to be the
right words, just the right tone of voice.

She finally mastered the unfamiliar latch just as Cullen pulled open
her car door.  It was more misting than raining, just damp enough to be
annoying but not enough to warrant an umbrella.  Darcy could feel the
moisture settling on her hair as she slid out of the rental car.

Cullen's hand came under her elbow, steadying her.  Just as he'd been
doing
since they'd met--steadying her, taking care of her.  God, she
couldn't lose that now.  And she would if she couldn't talk him out of
this.  She put her hand on his arm and tilted her head back to look up
at him, ignoring the dampness.

"You know, Cullen, I've been thinking about this situation."  Yes, that
was good.  She sounded calm, no trace of the screaming panic she felt
inside showed in her voice.

"I know you want to honor Susaifs wishes, but have you considered the
possibility that your niece might be better off staying with your
parents?"

She saw denial flicker in his eyes and hurried on before he could
interrupt.

"After all, even if you had problems with them, this is the only home
she's known.  Maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea to take her away
from all that's familiar.  The lawyer said that your parents want to
raise her and this is a beautiful neighborhood.  The schools are
probably terrific and" -He put his finger against her mouth, stilling
the tumble of words.

"I

know we haven't really discussed any of this, Darcy, and I'm probably
not being fair to you to make decisions like this without your input.

But Susan made me Angie's guardian and I'm not leaving without her.  "
"I'm just trying to think of what's best for the baby," she said.  She
felt her cheeks heat with shame.  Liar.  You're thinking of what's best
for you.

You know what's going to happen if he brings this baby home.  You're
going to lose him.

"Are you sure she wouldn't be better off with her grandparents?"

"You haven't met my parents," he said again, and there was something in
his tone that told her it would be a waste of breath to continue the
argument.

"What about the baby's father?"  She was clutching at straws, but when
you were drowning, it was worth grabbing at any possibility.

"The lawyer said he wants nothing to do with the baby."

"He might feel that way now.  But that doesn't mean he won't change"
"He's married and has three kids, Darcy.  In the letter Susan left me,
she said not to contact him, that he knew about the baby and had
offered her money but he wanted no actual involvement."

"Oh."  Darcy spared a moment of sympathy for Cullen's sister, for the
hurt she must have felt.  But she couldn't help but feel a wave of
panic on her own behalf.  Cullen wouldn't leave the baby with his
parents and the baby's father wanted no part of her.  That didn't leave
very many options.

"Don't look so upset, honey."  Cullen smiled down at her.

"I'm not upset," she lied.

Darcy didn't know what he read in her eyes, surely not the fear she
felt.

She'd spent years learning to control her expression, learning to
reveal only what she chose.  But whatever Cullen saw, it made his face
soften, one side of his mouth kicking up in a lopsided version of the
smile that had persuaded her to go to bed with him barely a week after
they'd met.

He smoothed one finger over the curve of her cheekbone.

"We'll work everything out, Darcy.  I promise.  Once the three of us
get back to Santa Barbara, we'll take time to sort it all out."

The three of us.  Words right out of a nightmare.  Darcy couldn't force
a smile but she managed to nod.  Apparently it was enough to satisfy
Cullen because he bent to drop a quick kiss on her cold mouth. "Thanks,
sweetheart."

Linking his hand withe hers he led the way up the cement walkway.

Darcy felt like a prisoner walking to her doom.  These past eight
months with Cullen had been the happiest of her life.  And unless he
changed his mind about letting his parents raise his sister's child, it
was all going to come to an end.

Cullen could feel Darcy's tension in the hand he held.  He knew she was
upset, knew that he was probably being unfair in making a unilateral
decision on such a major issue.  They should discuss the impact a baby
would have on their lives, talk about what kind of changes it would
mean, how they would deal with those changes.  He should ask her how
she felt about bringing a baby into the life they'd built together.

He should do all those things, but at the moment he couldn't get past
the basic facts: Susan was dead and she'd left her baby to him.  She'd
trusted him with the most precious thing in her life.  And nothing--not
even Darcy--was going to keep him from fulfilling that trust.

Darcy would understand, he told himself.  Once she'd met his parents,
she'd understand why there had been no choices to be made about this,
why he hadn't consulted her, asked her what she thought.

There was a knot in his chest as he stepped onto the porch.  He'd been
a scared, angry seventeen-year-old when he'd left home.  That was half
a lifetime ago.  At thirty-four, he was a succesful businessman, with
money in the bank.  He owned his own home, two cars and half a boat. 
And since meeting Darejr, his personal life was on track.  He was, by
any standards you cared to apply, successful.

So why was he standing in front of his parents' door with a knot in his
stomach and the feeling that he'd failed in some indefinable but
significant way?  It was a feeling that had been all too familiar when
he was growing up, a feeling he'd thought he'd left behind him when
he'd left home.

Darcy tugged on the hand he was holding, making him realize that he was
crushing her fingers.

"Sorry."  He released her.

"I'm a LITTLE upright, I guess."

"It's been a rough week."  She reached up to touch the lines of strain
that bracketed his mouth.  Cullen was momentarily soothed by the
concern in her eyes.

He brushed his fingers across her cheek.  Even after all these months,
he sometimes found it hard to believe that she was really his.  He'd
wanted her from the moment he'd seen her.  He'd gone to his friend's
barbecue only because he had nothing better to do, thinking he could
ak.  ays leave early if he wanted.  Darcy had been standing in a patch
of sunlight, her hair so pure a gold it almost hurt to look at it.

He'd wangled an introduction, taken one look at the smile in her pale,
almost crystalline gray eyes and fallen like a ton of bricks.

Darcy's light shiver brought him back to the present, back to the task
at hand, which was getting Susan's baby out of his parents' house.  He
gave Darcy a quick, strained smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"This shouldn't take long."

Cullen ignored the doorbell and rapped his knuckles against the smooth
oak of the door.  He was aware of Darcy glancing at him, her eyes
curious, and knew that she must have a lot of questions.  He'd never
talked about his family with her, so she could have no idea how he felt
about this homecoming.  But then, he didn't know much about her family,
either.  Maybe he should ask-The sound of footsteps on the other side
of the door made him break off the thought.  The sharp tap of high
heels on polished oak floors.

His mother.  The only woman he'd ever known who wore high heels at
home.  And then the door was opening and, for the first time in
seventeen years, he and his mother stood face-to-face.

She hadn't changed much.  There was more gray threaded through her
medium brown hair, a few more lines on her forehead.  But her eyes were
the same--looking at him, measuring him, finding him wanting.

Just as she had when he was a boy.

"Cullen."  Maeve Roberts's greeting was flat and emotionless.

"Mother."  He was so tense that his neck ached.

"Come in."  Her eyes, the same deep blue as her son's, flickered over
Darcy.

"Both of you."

Darcy felt the tension in Cullen as they stepped across the threshold.
Not exactly a fatted calf kind of welcome, she thought.

The interior of the house was as neat as the exterior.  Light oak wood
floors, creamy white walls, a few delicately shaded watercolors on the
walls--all very pale and restful.  Not the kind of decor one associated
with children.  She felt her hopes of Cullen leaving the baby here slip
a little more.

"Nothing's changed," Cullen said, half to himself.  "This is just the
way it looked when I was a kid."

"Your father and I enjoy our home," Maeve said over her shoulder.

"We've seen no reason to change it."

She led the way into the living room, which was decorated with the same
lack of color as the entryway.  In here, the floor was covered with a
plush carpet in a pale fawn color.  Guaranteed to show every bit of
dirt, Darcy thought.

She resisted the urge to glance behind herself to make sure she wasn't
leaving footprints.

"Cullen is here, William."  Maeve made the announcement in the same
flat tone of voice with which she'd greeted her son.

There was a strong resemblance between William Roberts and his son,
Darcy saw as the older man set aside the paper he'd been reading and
rose from his
chair.  It was there in the shape of his face, in the tobacco brown of
his hair, still visible through the liberal sprinkling of gray.  His
eyes were blue, also, though a paler shade than his wife's and son's.
But where Cullen's eyes usually sparkled with life and his mouth always
seemed to hover on the edge of a smile, there was a stillness about his
father's face, a tightness about his mouth that made it difficult to
imagine him smiling at all.

"Cullen."  He nodded as if greeting an acquaintance he hadn't seen for
some time.  " "Dad."  Cullen's greeting was just as cool.

"This is Darcy Logan.

Darcy, my parents.  " Darcy murmured an acknowledgment, aware of
William's cool eyes skimming over her and dismissing her.

"Are you my soft mistress?"  Maeve asked in the same tone she might
have used to ask if Darcy liked jam on her toast.

Darcy's mouth gaped in shock.  She was at a loss for an answer.  His
mistress?  Did anyone actually think in those terms anymore?  Cullen's
hand squeezed hers.  In warning?  In support?

"Darcy and I have been living together for the last five months,"

Cullen said.

"Not that it's any of your business."

"I think we have a right to know what kind of moral atmosphere you're
taking our grandchild into," Maeve said, pressing her lips together.

"No, actually, you don't."  Cullen's tone was almost pleasant.

"Susan's will gave me sole custody of her daughter."

"If she'd lived longer, Susan would have changed her mind," William
said heavily.

"She'd begun to realize the sin she'd committed, bearing a child out o~
wedlock as she had."

"I'm sure you helped her see that.  I'm sure you made sure she knew
every minute of every day just what a crime she'd committed."

"Unlike you, Susan had some understanding of the importance of strong
moral behavior."  William did fit so much as glance in Darcy's
direction, but she knew the words were a reference to her presence.

Clearly, as far as Cttllen's parents were concerned, the fact that he
had a mistress--good Lord, had they really used that term?  --made it
clear that Cullen didn't share his sister's understanding.  "Where's
the baby?"

Though she could feel the anger in him, Cullen's tone was level.

"She's upstairs."  Maeve glanced at her husband.  "We feel it would be
better if she stayed with us.  Clearly, you're in no position to be
taking on the rearing of a child."

"Bring her down."

"Though your father and I didn't ask for this burden, we feel it's our
duty to" -- "Are you going to bring her down or should I go up and get
her?"

The steel in Cullen's voice cut through his mother's words.  Glancing
at his face, Darcy suppressed a shiver.  She hoped never to see that
look turned in her direction.

"Don't speak to your mother in that tone," William said sternly.

"We've decided the child would be better off under our care.  If you"
"I don't give a damn what you've decided."  Cullen's eyes blazed with
an emotion perilously close to hate.

"Susan made me the baby's guardian.  If you want to argue with that,
then you can do it in court."

"I see you haven't changed since you were a boy," William said, and the
words were not intended as a compliment.

"You're still overly emotional and thoughtless to a fault."

"You mean, I'm not a block of morally unimpeachable ice like the two of
you.

I'll take that as a compliment."

"You're thinking only of yourself here.  You're not giving a thought to
what's best for the child.  If she stays with us, she'll have
stability.

She'll grow up with a firm understanding of right and wrong, with" --
"Without love, with no sense of self-worth," Cullen interrupted.

"You'll break her spirit the same way you broke Susan's, the way you
tried to break mine.  Only I was lucky enough to have Susan to love me,
to push me out before you could destroy me the way you did her."

He took a short step forward, using the advantage of an extra two
inches of height to loom over the older man.

"Now, are you going to bring her baby down here or am I going to have
to tear the god damned house apart to find her?"

Cullen didn't raise his voice.  He didn't have to.  The cold rage in
his eyes was threat enough.  Darcy put her hand on his arm, half-afraid
he might actually strike his father.  His muscles were rigid as iron
beneath her fingers.  The silence stretched.

William looked away first, his pale eyes shifting to his wife.  He
nodded abruptly.

"Get her."

Maeve's lips compressed.  She glanced at Cullen and for an instant,
Darcy saw some emotion flash through her eyes, something that could
have been hatred.

It was gone immediately, but the memory of it stayed in Darcy's mind,
chilling her.

What kind of people were they that they could look at their son with
such hatred, that they could talk about their recently deceased
daughter having committed a terrible moral sin?  Where was the grief
they should have been feeling over Susan's death?  The regret that
their relationship with their only remaining child was such a shambles?
Darcy shivered and drew her jade green jacket shut over the matching
dress.  It seemed colder in here than it did outside.

Maeve left the room at a measured pace, the skirt of her neat, powder
blue dress barely shifting as she moved.  She was as tidy and soulless
as the house, Darcy thought.  No wonder Cullen was so determined to
take charge of his niece.  What must it have been like growing up in
such a sterile, judgmental household?  She'd spent less than ten
minutes here and already felt chilled to the bone.

No one spoke while they waited.  The tension that stretched between the
two men was at odds with the pristine, colorless room.  From the little
she'd
seen of them, Darcy suspected that Culien's parents were strangers to
strong emotions of any sort.  Unless you considered feeling morally
superior an emotion.  : She heard the click of Maeve's heels in the
hall and then the older woman walked into the room carrying a
blanket-wrapped bundle.  There was suddenly a hard knot in Darcy's
chest, making it hard to breathe; "She let her hand drop from Cullen's
arm as he stepped forward to meet his mother.

Maeve hesitated a moment, her eyes meeting her son's.  Whatever she
read there apparently convinced her that further argument would be a
waste of time.  With a look of unconcealed dislike, she allowed him to
take the baby from her arms.

Cullen showed none of the hesitancy Darcy might have expected from a
man who had little or no experience with babies.  His hold was secure,
if a little awkward.  She noticed that his hand was not quite steady as
he eased the blanket back from the baby's face.

Uncle and niece stared at each other with identically' colored blue
eyes.

The baby managed to work one hand free of the soft white blanket,
waving it aimlessly in the air.  She gurgled a greeting.

"Hello, little one."  Cullen's facial expression was nothing short of
captivated.

Baby Angie, with a wisdom far beyond her six months, solidified her
position by rewarding him with a grin that crinkled her small face and
revealed two tiny teeth.  Cullen returned the grin and Darcy watched
helplessly as his heart fell firmly into the infant's tiny hands.

Chapter Two ~ ~Are you sure she's warm enough?  " It was the second
time Cullen had asked the question in the twenty minutes since they'd
left his parents' house.

"She's wrapped in a blanket and the heater is on.  Besides, it's damp
but it's not that cold outside.  This is Seattle not Siberia."

"Sorry."  Cullen's smile was self-deprecating.

"It's just that she's so little."

"Most babies are."  Darcy flicked on a turn signal preparatory to
making the turn into a supermarket parking lot.  Baby Angie had come
with a limited supply of basic necessities like ~diapers and formula.

Clothes could wait until they got back to Santa Barbara, but the rest
of it couldn't.

Once inside, they found the baby-food aisle easily enough, but the
array of choices made Cullen's eyes glaze with fear.  Taking pity on
him, Darcy made a few quick choices, tossing items into a cart and
trying to ignore the bundle in Cullen's arms, a feat considerably more
difficult than she would have liked.

At the checkout counter, Cullen tried to hand Darcy the baby so he
could get out his checkbook.

"No!"  The refusal was automatic and held a panic-stricken note that
made his
eyebrows go up.  She forced a smile.

"I'll pay for it.  I've already got my checkbook out."  She waved it
for emphasis.

"Okay."

She thought he gave her a questioning look, but the clerk chose that
moment to admire Angie, who was peering over the edge of her blanket to
offer that irresistible two-toothed smile.  The clerk smiled fatuously.
Cullen looked proud.  Darcy kept her eyes resolutely turned away.

By the time they reached the hotel, the knot in her stomach had grown
to roughly the size of a basketball and all she wanted was to lock
herself in the bathroom with a full tub of hot water and not come out
until her skin looked like a topographical map of the Sierras.

But when she mentioned the idea to Cullen, he looked as if she'd just
threatened to abandon him in the middle of a jungle without so much as
a can of bug repellent.  He ran a construction company, for heaven's
sake, she reminded herself.  So how was it possible for him to look so
utterly helpless holding a baby?

"I think she's wet," he said, sounding every bit as helpless as he
looked.

"Babies do that.  We bought plenty of disposable diapers."  She pulled
the box from one of the grocery sacks and set it on the bed.

To his credit, Cullen didn't ask her to do the job for him.  He carried
Angie over to the bed and laid her down, unwrapping her from her
blanket with me-thodieal care.  Darcy told herself that she should get
started filling the tub, but she didn't move.  Cullen's hands looked
huge as he fumbled with the series of tiny snaps that ran down.  each
leg of Angie's pink romper.

The minute her legs were freed, Angie began kicking and waving her arms
in the air.  She opened her perfect rosebud mouth and squealed loud
enough to wake the dead.  Cullen jerked back as if she were a
rattlesnake coiled to strike.

"What's wrong?  Did I hurt her?"

"There's nothing wrong.  She's just letting you know she's here."

"As if I hadn't noticed," he muttered, warily approaching his niece
once more.

It took some effort, but he managed to remove both plastic pants and
wet diaper.  Angie kicked harder, apparently delighted to find herself
bare bottomed.  Cullen disposed of the wet diaper and pulled a new one
from the box Darcy had helpfully opened.  Diaper in hand, he leaned
over Angie.  Both her tiny legs churned like pistons.

He gave Darcy a questioning look as if she might know the trick for
getting a six-month-old baby to hold still.

Darcy shrugged.

Looking grimly determined, Cullen turned back to his niece.

Ten minutes and three ruined diapers later, lines of defeat had
appeared beside his mouth.  His fingers were locked around diaper
number four, the knuckles white with tension as he eyed his opponent.

She grinned up at him, and babbled something that sounded suspiciously
like "I win."

Darcy was torn between laughter and sympathy.  A heavy lock of dark
hair tumbled onto his forehead.  His eyes held a wild look generally
only seen in trapped animals.  There were damp patches on the un-de
rams of his shirt, though the temperature in the room couldn't have
been more than.  seventy degrees.

Darcy took pity on him.  No matter how much she wanted to keep her
distance, she couldn't stand by and watch him suffer.  Not to mention
that, at the rate he was going, they were going to run out of diapers
long before they boarded their plane tomorrow morning.

"Let me try."  She came forward and held out her hand for the diaper.

"I don't think she wants to wear a diaper," Cullen said as he handed it
to her.

"" She's just testing you to see who's the boss.  " She opened the
diaper and set it on the bed next to the wiggling baby.

"She is," Cullen conceded immediately.

"Are you going to let yourself be bullied by a baby who probably
doesn't even weigh as much as fifteen pounds?"

"Coward."  She looked down at Angie, who waved her arms and babbled
happily.

Darcy couldn't help but grin back at her.  She felt something loosen in
her chest, like a key sliding into a lock that hadn't been turned in a
very long time.  But she didn't want to open that particular lock, she
reminded herself.  Not ever again.

"Your uncle is a coward," she told the baby.  "Imagine a grown man like
him letting a little thing like you bully him."

Angie babbled and cooed as Darcy caught both her ankles in one hand and
lifted her far enough to slide the' diaper under her bottom.  A minute
later, the baby was diapered, and a clean romper tugged on over her
wiggling body.

"How did you do that?"  Cullen demanded suspiciously, as if he hadn't
watched the entire operation.

"You just have to be firm and remember that you're bigger than she
is."

"I was afraid I'd hurt her," he muttered, staring down at his niece.

"Not likely.  Babies are tougher than" -- The words caught in her
throat, painful, as if she'd swallowed a fishhook.

"Than I think," Cullen finished for her, apparently seeing nothing odd
in her abruptly ended sentence.  "I guess they'd have to he or else the
whole human race would be out of business.  It's just that she's so
little."  He leaned down to touch Angie's hand and she promptly grabbed
hold of his finger.

"Look at how tiny her fingers are.  And did you see her toes?"

"Yes."  Darcy was pleased to hear how steady her voice was.

"It's incredible, isn't it?"

"Incredible," she said dully.  Cullen glanced at her and she forced a
quick
smile as she turned toward the phone.

"She'll probably be hungry soon.  I'll call room service and see how we
go about getting her formula heated up."

"And I wanted to call Sara and see if she'd be willing to do some
shopping for us tomorrow morning."

"Shopping?"  Sara Randall was Cullen's secretary.  Darcy had met her a
few times and liked her.

"For baby stuff.  You know, cribs and strollers and whatever babies
need.

She's got three grandchildren.  She's bound to know what to buy."

Darcy nodded and picked up the phone.

"Good idea."

Shopping for baby furniture was right up there on her list of favorite
things, right next to having a root canal or getting her hair died
purple.

"I don't know what I'd have done without Susan."  Cullen's voice was
low, in deference to the baby sleeping in a crib provided by the
hotel.

"She was the only thing that made life bearable when I was a kid."

The two of them were lying in bed.  Darcy was ex-hans ted physically
and emotionally, yet sleep had never seemed less likely.  It was
obvious that Cullen felt the same.

"The two of you must have been close."  She looked over at his profile.
He'd drawn only the sheer inner drapes earlier and the light of a full
moon shone through them, illuminating the room with pale clarity.

"We were.  I would have run away from home long before I was seventeen
if it hadn't been for Susan.  I didn't want to leave her and I knew she
wouldn't come with me."

"Why?  If things were so terrible, why did she stay?"

"It sounds melodramatic but I think they'd broken her spirit."  Darcy
heard the rustle as he shrugged.

"I don't ever remember hearing a word of praise from either of my
parents.

From the time I was little, I was told what a failure I was, how I had
to try harder to be worthy of the Lord's love.  I remember thinking
that I could do without His love if only they'd love me."

"They must have loved you."  Darcy's protest was weak as she remembered
the icy dislike with which they'd looked at him earlier.

"I don't think so.  I'm not sure they even love each other.  They're
cold, soulless people, Darcy."  There was no anger in his voice, only
the flatness of someone stating a fact, "They never hugged us or told
us we'd done a good job.  If you got bad grades, you were sent to your
room to contemplate your sins--their exact words--and they didn't speak
to you for a week.  If you got good grades, they never said a word.  I
think it would have been easier to deal with out and out anger.  If
they'd hit me, at least it would have been a reaction of some kind, an
acknowledgment that they felt something for me."

"It sounds like a lonely way to grow up," Darcy said softly, her heart
aching for the small boy he'd been.

"It would have been if it hadn't been for Susan.  She was four when I
was born and I think she was so desperate for someone to love and to
love her that she practically adopted me as her own.  She was always
there for me, proud of me if I did something good, telling me I'd do
better next time if things went wrong."

"She sounds wonderful."

"She was the best," he said simply.

"I kept in touch after I left.  As soon as I was scraping out a living,
I asked her to come live with me.  She always put me off and I let
her."  There was bitter self-condemnation in his words.

"You couldn't make her leave, Cullen," Darcy said.  She reached out
hesitantly and touched his shoulder, feeling the knotted muscles
there.

"She made her own choices."

"I think she was afraid to leave them.  Or maybe she was afraid she'd
be intruding on my life."

"Mayhe.  But she still had to make her own choices.  You can't beat
yourself UP because she didn't take you up on your offer to help her
leave."

There was a long silence and she hoped Cullen was thinking about what
she'd said.  He couldn't hold himself responsible for the choices his
sister had made.  No one could force someone else to do what was best
for them.

"She didn't tell me she was sick."  There was a lost sound to the words
that made Darcy's heart twist.  "She probably didn't want you to
worry."

"If she'd told me she was sick, I would have been here for her."

"I know you would have."  Darcy eased over, closing the gap between
them.

"I talked to her a month ago and when I asked if she was all right, she
said she was a little fired but that was all.  I was in a hurry and I
forgot to tell her I loved her."  His voice was suspiciously thick.

"She knew, Cullen.  I'm sure she knew."  She could hardly get the words
out past the lump in her throat.

Acting on instinct, she slid her arm under his neck and pulled him
toward her.  He was stiff for a moment, rejecting the comfort she was
offering.  The stiffness left him abruptly and his arms came around her
in a convulsive movement.

"I didn't get to tell her goodbye."

His hold on her was painfully tight, but Darcy didn't protest.  She
stroked her hand over his thick, dark hair, offering him wordless
comfort.  There was little else she could do for him.  Only time could
heal his wounds.

And sometimes a wound was so deep that not even time could reach it.

Her eyes were bleak as she stared over Cullen's head at the crib and
the sleeping baby it held.

Any uneasiness that either of them might have felt the next morning
over the intensely emotional scene of the night before was swallowed up
by the hustle and bustle of getting ready to go to the airport.

Angie was not a morning person and she announced this fact most
emphatically.

Unfortunately there wasn't much that could be done about it, so the
ride to the airport was made to the accompaniment of her protests.  By
the time they boarded the plane, she'd begun to regain the sunny nature
she'd displayed the day before.  At Darcy's suggestion, Cullen gave her
a bottle to suck on as they took off and it seemed to do the trick
because there were no more tears between Seattle and Santa Barbara.

In fact, she cooed her pleasure as she arrived at her new home.  The
adults, on the other hand, were more than a little the worse for the
wear.  After a week of emotional ups and down, the condo looked like
paradise.  As soon as Darcy got out of the car, she turned her face up
to the sun, letting its warmth beat down on her.

But not even the California sun could warm her all the way through, she
thought as Cullen got out of the car behind her with Angie cradled in
his arms.  His eyes met hers and she forced a smile.  He had enough to
deal with, what with his sister's death and suddenly finding himself
with an infant to care for.  He didn't need the additional pressure of
her own personal demons.

Sara Randall had proved herself more than worth her weight in gold.

She'd not only gone shopping for everything a baby could need, but
she'd arranged to have everything delivered.  Cullen's partner, Kiel
Jackson, had provided a key to the condo and the two of them had set up
the spare bedroom as a temporary nursery.

Tired as she was, Darcy welcomed their presence, especially Sam's.

The older woman was more than happy to hold Angie and exclaim over what
an extraordinary baby she was.  In the fervor of her welcome, Darcy
hoped her own lack of enthusiasm would be more easily overlooked.  Not
that she didn't agree that Angie was a remarkably beautiful and
good-natured baby.  It was just that she really didn't want to get
close enough to notice such things.

She only had to get through tonight, she told herself, listening with
half an ear as Kiel filled Cullen in on the business of the past week.
Tomorrow she'd be going back to work and she wouldn't have to deal with
the painful ache that twisted her heart every time she looked at
Angie.

A LITTLE time and distance, that was all she needed to get things into
perspective, to settle everything in her head.  A few days and She'd
find a way to deal with the situation.  Not that there was much
"dealing" to be done.  She could either adjust to Angie's presence in
her life--in their lives--or she could give Cullen up.  And since she
was unwilling to do the latter, then she'd have to find some way to
cope with the former.

Darcy woke suddenly, her heart pounding, her skin chilled and damp.

Bits of nightmare chased her from sleep, images too thin to catch yet
that left her trembling with remembered fear.  It had been a long time
since she'd
had this particular nightmare, but the aftermath was still familiar.
She'd never been able to re302 member much about it except for the
sound of a baby crying.

A shallow wall brought her upright in bed, her breath catching in her
throat.

Still foggy with sleep, for an instant it seemed that the nightmare had
followed her into the waking world, just as she'd always been afraid it
would.  But when the wail came again, Darcy realized what it was.
Angie.

It was a real flesh-and-blood baby crying, not the wraith of her
nightmares.

Darcy sagged, her breath gusting out of her on a half sob of relief.
Angie cried again and she felt Cullen stir.  She started to sink back
down against the pillows.  He'd take care of the baby, just as he'd
been doing since they'd brought her home.

Another wail, this one with a lost, inquiring sound that had Darcy on
her feet before the sound died down.  She could no more ignore that cry
than she could walk on water.  It called out some deep mater-hal
response that couldn'.  t be denied.

The addition of a crib had turned the condo's spare bedroom into a
nursery.

A heavy oak dresser served both to store Angie's small wardrobe and act
as a changing table.  The double bed had been shoved into a corner to
make room for the crib, a stroller, a car seat, and a box of toys.
Angie hadn't brought much with her by way of material possessions, but
Cullen had made up for that lack.

Angie wailed again as Darcy entered the room, the sound dying down to a
series of sad little whimpers.  Ignoring the clutter illuminated by the
night-light, Darcy walked across the room and stopped beside the crib.
Angie was lying on her back, her face crumpled with tears.

"What's the matter?"  Darcy asked softly.

At the sound of her voice, the baby's eyes flew open.  She stared up at
Darcy for a moment as if pondering her presence.  In the week since
they'd brought Angie home, Darcy had managed to keep her distance for
the most part.  After considerable thought, she'd decided that that was
her only option.

It was a ridiculously simple strategy but it had worked fairly well so
far.

She simply did her best to be elsewhere when Angie needed attention.
There were times when it hadn't worked out that way, of course.  If
Cullen was showering or on the phone and the baby needed something,
Darcy didn't ignore her.  Not only would that have been unfair to the
baby but it would have made her aversion to his niece obvious to
Cullen.  The last thing she wanted was him questioning her feelings
about Angie and babies in general.

Making up her mind, Angie lifted her arms in a clear demand to be
picked up, babbling something that could probably be interpreted as

"What took you so long?"  Darcy wondered if Angie thought she was her
mother.  Or did she remember Susan, wonder at her abrupt
disappearance?

Angie babbled again, jerking her arms impatienfly~ but Darcy
hesitated.

She'd done her best to avoid holding the baby if she could.  It hurt
too much.  It was stupid really.  It wasn't as if she hadn't held other
babies in the past few years.

Last year, there had been a mini baby boom at the bank and it seemed
as if someone was bringing in a new infant every, other week.  She'd
held each of them, admired them and had managed to hold the memories at
bay.  But Angie was different.  Angie wasn't just in her life for a
moment.  Angie was here to stay and it would be so easy to let herself
forget, to let herself get too close.  That wouldn't be fair to either
of them.

Cullen had been so busy adapting to his abrupt introduction to
fatherhood that he hadn't had time to notice anything else.  He'd even
been letting his partner, Kiel Jackson, run their construction company
so he could devote himself completely to easing Angie's transition to
her new life.  But eventually things would slow down a little and he'd
realize that she treated his adorable niece much as she would a python,
interesting enough to look at but something from which to keep her
distance.  And then he'd want to know why she was so careful to keep
Angie at arm's length.

And just what was she going to say?

"Sorry, I just don't' like babies?"  Or did she tell him the truth and
risk seeing the look in his eyes change to contempt?  The thought
caused a stabbing pain in her chest.

Angie's smile faded at the delay and she whimpered, her lower lip
quivering pathetically.  Darcy moved automatically to stop the howl
that was sure to follow that look.  Cullen hadn't had a decent night's
sleep since they'd got home from Seattle.  If she could help him sleep
a little longer by changing a wet diaper and settling the baby back in
her crib, she'd do it.

She'd held Angie before.  So the solid weight of her wasn't the shock
it had been the first time.  Still, Darcy's heart jerked a little as
she felt Angie's small body settle into her arms.  She closed her eyes
a moment, her breath catching on the sharp pain in her chest.

Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes and drew a deep breath, forcing
her thoughts to the here and now.  She carried Angie to the dresser and
laid her down.  She could do this.  She could change a diaper and get
one six-month-old child back to bed without falling apart.  After all,
you didn't have to become emotionally involved to change a diaper.  A
couple of minutes and she could crawl back into bed, cuddle up next to
Cullen and hope that the warmth of his body would drive away her own
inner chill.  How long could it take to diaper one baby?

Longer than she'd anticipated.  Especially when that baby was more
interested in kicking and squirming than in getting a dry diaper.

When Darcy started trying to pull off the plastic pants, Angie drew her
knees up and waved her arms.  A brief but vehement straggle later,
Darcy was the proud possessor of both plastic pants and soggy diaper.

Angie grinned at her and babbled happily.

"Don't tell me you were trying to help," Darcy muttered.

She dropped the diaper in the diaper pail and pulled a fresh one from
the stack nearby.  Angie kicked both legs, delighted to find herself
bare bottomed, pleased to find herself with an audience at one o'clock
in the
morning.  Or maybe just delighted with life in general ~ Darcy smiled
despite herself.  It must be nice to be six months old and have nothing
to worry about except growing up.  Not that Angie's life had been
picture-book perfect so far.  Finding herself an orphan at six months
was not exactly part of ~ fairy tale.  But Angie had had Cullen to come
to her rescue.  Darcy folded a diaper and managed to get it under the
baby.

Cullen had come to her rescue, too, though he probably didn't realize
it.

Before she'd met him, her life had been painted in shades of gray.

Largely by her own choice, Darcy admitted to herself.  She'd spent
years building fences around herself, making sure she.  didn't get too
close to anyone, that she didn't open herself to that kind of hurt.

And then she'd met Cullen and he didn't seem to notice the fences or,
if he did, he'd chosen to cut through them.  And she'd suddenly found
herself living in a world of color again.  Didhe have any idea what
he'd done?  Did he know he'd dragged her out of her shell, made her
feel again?  Made her vulnerable again?

"You're a very lucky little girl," she told Angie.  "Your uncle Cullen
is a very special man and you're lucky to have him.  I'm lucky to have
him."

But would she have him much longer?

She pushed the question away as she finished diapering the wiggling
baby and picked her up.  Despite the tiredness revealed by her
heavy-lidded eyes, Angie didn't seem to have any immediate plans to go
back to sleep.  Darcy couldn't help but smile at the infant's
determination.

"You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you?"  Angie muttered, her
eyelids drooping a little before being forced upward.  Darcy rocked her
gently, keeping her voice to a singsong rhythm.

"Afraid you'll miss something important if you go to sleep?  It'll all
still be there in the morning."

She continued to talk to the baby, nonsensical words, their meaning
less important than the sound of her voice.  As she spoke, she forgot
about keeping her distance, about holding herself aloof.  The soft
weight in her arms felt sweetly familiar and right.

The dimly lit room was a pleasant haven, safe and secure.  Darcy began
to sing quietly to the baby, momentarily forgetting all the reasons she
couldn't let herself get close to this small scrap of humanity, and
allowing herself to simply enjoy the feel of having her arms full again
after being empty for so long.

Chapter Three The man standing in the doorway thought he'd never seen
anything more beautiful in his life than the picture the woman and
child made.

IYarcy was wearing a plain white T-shirt, size extra large, that came
halfway down her thighs.  Cullen had never understood how something as
basic as a T-shirt could look so sexy, but one thing he'd learned in
the past six months was that Darcy Logan could probably make a trash
bag look sexy.

But it wasn't sex he was thinking of at the moment.  Or at least, that
wasn't all he was thinking of, he amended, looking at the smooth length
of leg beneath the hem of the T-shirt.  Until this moment he hadn't
realized just how beautiful a woman could look holding a baby.

The tenderness in Darcy's expression as she looked down at Angie
sparked a warmth somewhere deep inside Cullen.

She looked so utterly natural holding the baby, so right.  The very
picture of mother and child.  For a moment he felt a piercing grief at
the thought of his sister, who would never again hold her baby and sing
to her.  But a part of Susan remained behind in little Angie.  He
couldn't bring his sister back but he could do his best to live up to
the faith she'd had in him.

He'd raise her child for her.  With Darcy's help, he hoped.

She'd been so uncomfortable around the baby that he'd begun to wonder
if Darcy was afraid of her.  God knew, he could sympathize with the
feeling, he thought ruefully.  Angie scared the life out of him.

There was no reason Darcy wouldn't feel the same.

As far as he knew, she didn't have much experience with babies.

Though she'd ~certainly known enough to guide him through his first
fumbling aCamapts at some of the basics like diapering and bathing and
feeding.  At the time he'd been too grateful for her knowledge to
question its source.

Vaguely, he'd thought it must be some inborn instinct that women had,
but he doubted that knowing how to put on a diaper was part of the
genetic code.

Now here she was holding Angie as easily as if she'd been doing it
since the child was born.  He envied her that look of easy competence
even as he wondered how she'd come by it.  It occurred to him that,
despite the months they'd lived together, there was a great deal he
didn't know about her.  The present had been so absorbing that there
hadn't seemed to be much tea.  son to discuss past histories.  Maybe it
was time to think about changing that.

"You're very good with her," Cullen said quietly.  Darcy jumped and
turned toward him, careful not to disturb the now-sleeping baby.  The
light was dim, but for an instant he thought she looked guilty, as if
she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't.  The guilt--if that's
what it had been--~disappeared immediately, replaced by the carefully
neutral expression he was coming to associate with anything to do with
the baby.

"It doesn't take any talent to change a diaper," she said lightly.

"I don't know about that."  Cullen's smile was rueful as he came into
the room.

"It took me quite a few tries to master the skill, and I wouldn't have
managed at all if you hadn't shown me how."

"You'd have figured it out.  A man who can build a house isn't likely
to be permanently stumped by a diaper."  Darcy's tone was quiet but
matter-of-fact.

"Houses don't wiggle while you're trying to nail up the next stud,"

he pointed out.

"The first time I tried to change her, I'd have been willing to swear
she had six legs and all of them moving at once.  If you hadn't come to
my rescue, I'd still be in that hotel room in.

Seattle trying to get her to hold still long enough for me to sort
everything out.  " "If you'd waited for her to hold still, you would
still be waiting.

Babies don't do still very well.  " She ear-ried Angie over to the crib
and Cullen followed, watching as she eased the infant down onto the
mattress.

"So I've learned.  Where did you learn so much about babies?"  It was a
casual question but he felt Darcy stiffen and there was a tiny pause
before she answered.

"Baby-sitting," she said.

"I did a lot of baby-sitting when I was a teenager."

"I didn't know that."

"No reason you should," she said, lifting one shoulder in a half
shrug.

Her tone was so completely normal that Cullen wondered if he'd imagined
that brief moment of tension.  He reached down to tug a pink cotton
blanket up over Angie.

"She'll just kick it off," Darcy pointed out.

"I know."  Cullen brushed the back of one finger over Angie's cheek,
marveling at the softness of her skin.

"She's so small and helpless,"

he murmured.  "It's kind of scary when you think about how dependent
she is.

Makes you a little nervous, you know."

"I know," Something in her tone brought his head up, but she turned
away before he could see her expression.  "Since she's settled, I'm
going back to bed."

I'll be in in a minute.  " But he was speaking to her back.

As Darcy left the room, Cullen turned back to the sleeping baby.

Resting his hands on the top rail of the crib, he looked down at her,
but for the first time in a week,~ he wasn't really seeing her.  He was
seeing Darcy the way she'd looked when he'd first come in, her face
soft and practically glowing with tenderness.  As soon as she'd
realized he was there, that expression had disappeared, wiped from her
face as if it had never been.  As if there was something wrong with her
showing affection toward Angie.

In the short time they'd lived together, he'd learned that Darcy was a
very private woman.  She reminded him of an iceberg, concealing so much
more than
she ever revealed.  He had the feeling that she kept an ira d port ant
part of herself hidden away from him.  Sometimes he wondered if he knew
her at all.

Angie shifted in her sleep and the little blanket slipped halfway off.
With a half smile, Cullen tugged it back over her tiny form.

Brushing the tip of one finger over her cheek, he turned and left the
room.

Darcy was in bed when Cullen entered their bedroom.  Her eyes had had
time to adjust to the dark-hess and she watched as he pushed the door
partially shut behind him and crossed to the bed.  His chest was bare
and she let her gaze drift over the mat of dark hair that covered
muscles hardened by physical labor.  Cullen was as likely to be found
swinging a hammer as he was read' rag blueprints.

Though she couldn't see it in this light, she knew his skin was tanned
from working in the sun without a shirt.  The hair on his chest tapered
to a dark line that arrowed across the flat plane of his stomach before
disappearing into the low-slung waist of the black, cotton pajama
bottoms he wore.

Despite her emotional turmoil, she felt desire stir in the pit of her
stomach.  Though they'd slept together every night, they hadn't made
love since he'd gotten word about his sister's death, nearly two weeks
past.

He stopped beside the bed.  There wasn't enough light for her to read
his expression but she could see the glitter of his eyes and knew he
was looking at her.  Perhaps it was the darkness or the lateness of the
hour or the stress of the past couple of weeks, but it seemed to Darcy
that he was suddenly almost overwhelmingly male.

He seemed to loom over the bed and when he lowered his hands to shove
the pajama bottoms off his narrow hips, the hunger that tightened her
belly was mixed with a touch of purely feminine, uneasiness.  She
wasn't afraid of him but she was abruptly aware of the very definite
differences between a man and a woman.  He was so much stronger than
she.  There was comfort in that knowledge but a part of her
acknowledged the potential danger inherent in that strength.

Her breath caught in her throat as the black cotton slid off his hips,
revealing the strength of his arousal.  Cullen must have heard the
revealing sound because he grinned with pure masculine arrogance.

If she hadn't been melting inside, Darcy would have been tempted to
sock him in the ribs as punishment for that look.  The throbbing ache
in the pit of her stomach urged her to pull him down to her, to let him
soothe that ache as only he could do.

She might have done just that if he hadn't grinned again and set his
hands on his hips, bending one knee in a classic masculine pose,
flaunting himself with infuriating impudence, daring her to resist him.
She couldn't and he knew it, damn his blue eyes.  But that didn't mean
she had to give in without a fight.

Darcy eased out from under the covers and stood up.  Without a glance
in Cullen's direction, she grasped the hem of the plain white T-shirt
and eased it slowly upward, baring her body an inch at a time.

Cullen felt his mouth go dry as she drew the shirt up over her hips,
exposing the triangle of soft blond curls at the top of her thighs.

The slender curve of her waist and the inviting hollow of her belly
button were next and then she paused.  She gave him a sidelong glance
that he felt all the way to his toes.

She inched the shirt a lit fie higher, baring her midriff and the
beginning swell of her breasts.  His fingers curled into his palms as
he fought the urge to grab her and rip the shirt from her before
tumbling her back onto the bed.  She looked at him again, as if
measuring his desire.  Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she drew
the T-shirt the rest of the way off.

Cullen stopped breathing.  It didn't matter how many times he saw her
like this, he was never prepared for the impact she had on his senses.
Her full breasts swayed as she tossed the T-shirt away.  She lifted her
hands and ran them through her hair, turning slightly so that he had a
perfect view of the inviting thrust of her breasts as her arms
lifted.

It was a game they'd played before, teasing each other with pretended
indifference, driving each other crazy by looking but not touching.

The game had only one ending, but there was pleasure in drawing it out,
in building the fires slowly, letting the heat climb.

Tonight, Cullen wasn't in the mood to draw things out.  It seemed as if
it had been months since he'd touched her, forever since he'd touched
that smooth, golden skin.

Darcy gasped when his hands closed over her hips, his fingers curving
into her soft bottom as he pulled her up against his hard body with
almost violent force.  She threw her head back, her urgency rising to
meet his.  His mouth came down on hers, his tongue plunging into her
mouth with no preliminaries, only a stark, driving hunger that added to
the ache in her.

Her fingers dug into the rock-hard muscles of his upper arms.  She
twisted herself closer.  His arousal was hot and hard against the
softness of her belly, making her whimper with hunger.  It seemed as if
it had been so long since he'd held her like this, loved her like
this.

Cullen lowered her to the bed, bracing his arm against the mattress as
he followed her down.  His knee slid between hers, and Darcy opened her
legs to him, the tension inside coiling almost painfully tight.

"I don't want to wait."  His voice was husky as the tip of his erection
brushed against Re dampness of her most sensitive flesh.

"Who asked you to?"  she got out breathlessly.  The arch of her hips
was an irresistible invitation.

Cullen's first thrust took him deep within her, filling the emptiness.
Darcy sucked in her breath and arched her body to take him deeper
still.  She needed to feel him all the way to her soul, needed to know
that he was hers and hers alone.

Cullen groaned as he felt the heated dampness of her surround him.  He
felt completed, made whole in a way only she could do.  He caught her
hands in his, pinning them flat to the bed as he withdrew and thrust
again.

Darcy dug her heels into the bed and arched to meet him.  He lowered
his body
to hers, the muscular width of his chest crushing her breasts, the
crisp mat of hair abrading her tender nipples.  There was a tightly
coiled spring low inside her belly and every thrust, every brush of his
body against hers drew the coils tighter still until it seemed as if
the pressure of it was more than she could bear.

And then Cullen's hands slid under her, his fingers digging into the
soft flesh of her bottom, pulling her up to meet his solid penetration
of her, deepening an embrace that couldn't possibly get any deeper,
making her his all the way to her soul.

And the tension inside her shattered into tiny fragments of sensation.
If she'd had the breath to do so, Darcy might have screamed.  But he'd
stolen her breath, her soul, her heart.  She dug her fingers into the
damp muscles of his shoulders, sobbing with the force of her
pleasure.

Cullen groaned as he felt her climax take her.  She shuddered beneath
him as tiny muscles rippled and contracted around him, dragging him
headlong into his 'own satisfaction.  He pulled her higher on his
invading flesh, feeling Darcy's nails bite into his shoulders as the
movement prolonged her own pleasure.

And then he gave himself up and let the heavy pulse of release take
him.

Through eyes blurred with tears of pleasure, Darcy saw Cullen's face
above her, the skin tight across his cheekbones, his lips drawn back
from his teeth, a guttural groan bursting from him.  She lifted her
legs and locked her ankles across his lower back, arching her body into
his.  He shuddered against her as the move merit deepened their already
impossibly deep embrace.

The pleasure seemed to go on and on, long rolling waves of sensation.

It was a long time before Darcy gathered the strength to open her eyes.
She felt heavy with exhaustion yet so light that it seemed possible she
might float up from the bed without Cullen's weight to hold her down. 
Them was a pleasant tingly feel Lag to her skin.

Cullen shifted, easing his weight onto his elbows and look rig down at
her.

It was too dark for her to read his expression but she caught the white
gleam of his teeth as he smiled.

"That'll teach you to tease, Ms.  Logan."

"I've certainly lea rued my lesson, Mr.  Roberts."  Her voice was
almost as steady as his.

"See that you don't forget."  The last word ended on a groan as she
tightened certain muscles, demonstrating an admirable grasp of the
situation.

"I certainly wouldn't want to tease," she said, widening her eyes in a
show of innocence at odds with the far from innocent movement of her
body.

"I can see that you wouldn't."  Cullen flexed his hips, letting her
feel his growing arousal.

"I wouldn't want to disturb you."  It took considerable effort to keep
her voice steady.

"I like being disturbed."  Cullen wrapped his hands in her hair, using
the hold to tilt her head back.  Darcy shivered as she felt his teeth
against the taut line of her throat.

It wasn't as urgent this time.  Arousal built slowly, drugging her
senses,
melting her body into his until it was hard to tell where one stopped
and the other began.  Her response to Cullen never failed to surprise
her.  She'd always thought of herself as a rather cold person.  But
Cullen brought out a fire in her that sometimes threatened to consume
her.

She moaned, her fingers clinging to his shoulders as the world rocked
around them once more.

And for a little while Darcy could push aside her fears that she was
going to lose him.

Chapter Four I can't believe that one baby requires all this stuff just
to go out to dinner.  A small army could march across the Gobi with
less.  " Darcy grinned as she watched Cullen struggle with the car seat
and a bulging diaper bag.  It was the first time they'd ventured out of
the house with Angie in the two weeks since they'd picked her up in
Seattle.

"An army doesn't have to cater to the needs of a baby," she told him.

"Well, if this is what it takes, there'd be a lot fewer wars if they
did.

Three months in boot camp couldn't prepare a man for carting all this
stuff around," he groused.

"Not to mention they'd be too tired to fight because they'd never
manage to get a decent night's sleep."

The last was a mutter as he walked out the door to put his burdens in
the car.  Darcy was left alone with the baby.  She looked at Angie, who
was lying on the sofa with pillows mounded around her to keep her from
rolling off.

Having pulled one sock off, Angie was doing her best to bite her
toes.

Darcy's hands twitched with the urge to pick her up but she resisted.

She'd had plenty of time to think about the situation.  Since coming
back
from Seattle, she'd thought of little else.  The situation seemed
possible: she wanted nothing to do with having a baby in her life but
Cullen now came with a baby attached.

And the one thing she was absolutely sure of was that she did want
Cullen in her life.  The realization of just how much was rather
frightening to someone who'd spent the past six years carefully wanting
nothing and most especially wanting no one.  She'd lived with Cullen
almost six months, but it had taken Angie's arrival to make her realize
how much she'd come to depend on him, how much she needed him.

Her first reaction to the baby had been denial.  If she told herself he
didn't matter so much, then he wouldn't.  But she'd never been much
good at lying to herself.  The truth was that she couldn't bear the
thought of going back to the sterile, empty, safe existence she'd led
before Cullen had come into her life.  The happiness she'd found with
him might be fragile-he'd surely hate her if he ever learned the full
truth about her.  But fragile or not, she didn't want to give it up,
didn't want to give up the man who'd given it to her.

And since she couldn't ask Cullen to give up his sister's child, she
was going to have to find a way to come to terms with Angie's presence
in her life.  Not so complex really, she told herself as she watched
the baby contentedly playing with her own toes.  Cullen hadn't noticed
anything odd about her behavior toward his niece so far.  And if he
did, she'd just tell him she wasn't the maternal type.

Then all she had to do was keep a little emotional and physical
distance between herself and Angie.

How hard could that be?

Losing interest in her toes, Angie looked around for a new distraction.
Her flailing hand found the stuffed cloth block she'd been playing with
before discovering the delights of toe chewing.  She lifted it and
studied it with a seriousness worthy of an entomologist examining a new
species of beetle.  Her eyes were exactly the color of her uncle's,
that same clear, heart-melting blue.  Darcy found herself smiling at
Angie's serious expression.

"Ready?"  Cullen's question preceded him.  Darcy's head jerked toward
the door as he entered.

"Yes."  There was nothing to feel guilty about, she scolded herself.

"How are my two best girls?"  At the sound of Cullen's voice, Angie
abruptly lost interest in the block.  Her head turned until she found
him.

Immediately her small face creased into a two-toothed grin and she
began to kick both her feet in excitement.

Cullen's answering grin was nothing short of enthralled, Darcy thought
as she watched him walk over to the sofa.  Despite the lack of sleep
he'd complained about, he looked devastatingly handsome.  A shock of
dark hair fell onto his forehead, emphasizing the blue of his eyes.  He
was wearing black jeans and a blue shirt almost the exact shade of his
eyes.  She'd bought him that shirt for Christmas.

Now she almost wished she hadn't.  He didn't need anything to make him
look more attractive.  The man practically qualified as a lethal weapon
as it was~
"How's my gift?"  he asked Angie as he leaned down to pick her up. His
hands looked huge against her small body but he held her easily, with
none of the uncertainty he'd shown at first.  Held in midair, Angie
babbled happily, both legs churning with the citement of having
Cullen's attention.

I know just how you feel, Darcy thought wryly.

The restaurant was new to both of them, a family kind of place with a
menu that ran more toward hot roast beef sandwiches with mashed
potatoes than filet mignon with tiny vegetables.

"I didn't think Angie was ready for Chez Bey," Cullen said, mentioning
a restaurant they'd been to several times.

"I doubt they're ready for her, either."  Darcy's tone was dry, but she
didn't look particularly disappointed by his choice of restaurants,
Cullen thought, glancing at her as he settled Angie into a high
chair.

"You could be right.  Imagine the waiter's expression if she spit a
mouthful of baby carrots at him."  He latched the tray in place before
sliding into the red vinyl booth.

"It would cause a major crisis," Darcy agreed.  "The chef would
probably come out to ask her what it was about his special recipe that
didn't appeal to her."

"I'm not sure her French is up to task," Cullen said seriously.

Angie babbled something and slapped both hands against the metal tray
of the high chair as if demanding to know where dinner was.

"I don't know.  I think she could get her message across in most
languages,"

Darcy said dryly.

"You could be right."  Cullen found a toy in the bulging diaper bag and
handed it to his niece to distract her from the delay with mealtime.
Angie promptly began to gnaw on the plastic ring.

Seeing that she was occupied, at least momentarily, he turned his
attention to Darcy.  One thing he'd learned about babies was the truly
amazing amount of time they required.  It seemed as if he hadn't had
time to draw a breath.

He'd been telling himself that he and Darcy would talk, that they'd
discuss the changes Angie had made in their lives.  But it had been two
weeks and they'd yet to talk.

He'd never realized just how big a job it was to take care of a baby,
especially since he'd been thrown in at the deep end without the
slightest preparation for the task.  Without his secretary, who'd been
willing to extend her job description to include shopping, and Darcy to
show him the fine points of diapering, among other things, he doubted
if either he or Angie would have made it to the end of the first
week.

He thought he was start' rag to get the hang of it now, but it still
seemed as if most of his waking hours were spent dealing with the
minutiae of life with a baby.  And the brief bits of time he had for
anything else were spent trying to keep up with his business.  Kiel
hadn't complained about dealing
with his partner's work as well as his own but Cullen didn't expect
him to keep doing it.

Besides, there were decisions that took the two of them to make.  Add
Darcy's job to the mix and the end result was that the two of them
hadn't had a moment to themselves.

Except in bed.  They communicated just fine there.  But when he was in
bed with Darcy, his urges ran to something more elemental than
discussing life changes.

But now, here they were, alone, unless you counted Angie and the couple
of hundred other patrons in the restaurant.  It wasn't exactly intimate
and he hadn't planned on starting a serious discussion tonight but
maybe they could talk without too many interruptions.

"Darcy, I" -- "What can I get for you?"  Their waitress looked about
eighteen.  She wore the same nondescript brown and white uniform the
other waitresses wore but she'd accessorized hers with black ankle
socks, combat boots and a small gold stud through one nostril.

Cullen managed to keep his expression under control until the girl had
taken their order and left.  Once she was gone, he leaned across the
table.

"Who do you think does her makeup?"  he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Lon Chaney.  I'm sure I saw that same look in the original Phantom of
the Opera.  It's the hair I'm not sure about."

"You mean that spiky thing on top of her head is her hair?"  Cullen
widened his eyes in mock disbelief.

"How does she get it to stand up like that?"

"Years of practice and a can of mousse."

The girl returned with their drinks.  Once she was gone, Cullen's eyes
met Darcy's and she dissolved in giggles.  His rich chuckle joined her
laughter.

Angie chortled happily, unconcerned with the cause of the adults' good
humor.

"We haven't laughed much lately, have we?"  he said as their laughter
faded.

"Things have been a little hectic."  Darcy reached for the pottery
cream pitcher and added a generous dollop to her coffee.

"That's an understatement."  Angie threw the purple plastic ring onto
the table and Cullen automatically returned it to her.

"I'm a banker.  We're supposed to understate things."  Darcy reached
for her spoon.  The plastic ring landed right next it and Darcy picked
it up and set it on the high chair's tray.

"I know I said we'd talk--about the baby and everything.  We need" This
time Angie threw the ring on the floor and then leaned over to look at
the results of her effort.  Cullen bent and scooped it up and started
to hand it to her.

"She'll put it in her mouth," Darcy commented.

"what?"  His thoughts on other things, he stared at her blankly.

"She'll put that in her mouth."  Darcy nodded to the ring.

"It's been on the floor."

"Oh.  Right."  He turned and stuffed the ring back into the diaper bag
and came up with a doth ball.

Angie took it from him with a squeal of delight.  "Not that it really
matters."

"Not that what matters?"  he asked, feeling as if he'd lost the thread
of the conversation.

"Whether or not she put that in her mouth after it had been on the
floor.  If she can survive chewing on her own feet, I suspect she's
tough enough to survive the little bit of dirt it might have picked
up."

"Then why did you stop me from giving it to her?"

"Because there's a grandmotherly looking type at the counter who's
keeping an eye on us, and I was afraid she'd slap your hand if you did
something she disapproved off' Cullen looked in the direction she'd
indicated, his glance colliding with that of an older woman who was
sitting at the lunch counter.

She beamed at him.  He smiled in return and then turned back to Darcy,
who was watching him over the rim of her coffee cup, her gray eyes
bright with humor.

"Why is she looking at me like that?"  he asked sotto vote, as if the
woman might actually be able to hear him from fifteen feet away.

"She's impressed by how good you are with the baby."

"I haven;t done anything."  He returned the doth ball to Angie, 'who'd
flung it into the middle of the table.  She promptly threw it again.

Fetch was one of her favorite games, as long as someone else was doing
the fetching.

His patience with Angie was so effortless that he wasn't even aware of
it, Darcy thought.  He'd turned his entire life upside down without a
second thought to give his niece a home.  And he didn't even see
anything extraordinary about what he'd done.  Watching him with the
baby, it occurred to her that he was born to be a father.  The role fit
him like a well-tailored suit.

The realization seemed to open a gaping chasm between them, with her on
one side and Cullen and the baby on the other.  The bright lights
suddenly seemed a little blurred and there was a constriction in her
throat.  She lowered her head and pretended to search for something in
her purse while she got her emotions under control.

"Are you all right?"

Cullen leaned across the table and Darcy didn't have to look at him to
know that he was looking concerned.  Why couldn't he do things the way
men were traditionally supposed to do them?  Why couldn't he be an
insensitive lout, oblivious to her feelings?

"I'm fine," she said, dragging a crumpled tissue from the bottom of her
purse and dabbing it against one eye.

"I just had something in my eye.  It's out now."

She lifted her head and gave him a bright smile to show that everything
was peachy keen.  Cullen looked doubtful and she had the feeling that
he might have pursued the issue if the waitress hadn't chosen that
moment to return with their order.

"Here you go."

If Darcy had been starving to death, she couldn't have been any more
grateful to see a waitress.  Spiky hair, nose stud, combat boots and
all, the girl couldn't have looked better if she'd been wearing white
wings.

"Here's our food," she said cheerfully, just in ease Cullen hadn't
noticed the plates being set in front of them.  She knew, even if
Cullen hadn't yet figured it out, that there wasn't much chance of
having an in-telligcut conversation while feeding a six-month-old
baby.

He might want to talk about the changes in their situation, but she
didn't.

She didn't want to have to try to find a way to tell him that she'd
continue to live with him but that she wanted to have as little as
possible to do with the baby.  He was sure to want to know why and she
didn't have the words to give him.  Unless she told him the truth and
that was out of the question.

Apparently, Cullen realized that serious conversation and feeding a
baby were not compatible activities.  Darcy gradually relaxed as the
conversation stayed on relatively neutral ground.  She told him what
had been going on at her job.  He mentioned a new construction project
that he and Kiel were going to bid on.

It was so much the kind of conversation they'd always had that if she
closed her eyes, Darcy could almost have believed that it was B. B.
--Before Baby.

She watched with admiration as he managed to eat his meal while feeding
Angie.  She'd never been half so good with-- She cut the thought off,
turning her thoughts from that particular path.  It wasn't difficult,
she'd had years of practice.

They were nearly finished with their dinner when the older woman who'd
smiled at Cullen earlier approached the table.

"I hope you don't mind, but I just had to get a closer look at your
baby."

"Not at all," Cullen said, casting a quick look in Darcy's direction.

She shrugged.  He'd learn that babies had a way of starting
conversations between total strangers, whether you wished it or not.

"I couldn't help but notice her when you brought her in."  She leaned
over to peer at Angie, who gave her a cheerful smile.

"Not a shy bone in her body," the woman said delightedly.

"She's the spitting image of my Wanda.  Not now, of course, because she
turned forty-eight this last March.  She says she's only forty-one but
that's not something a mother's likely to forget, now is it?"

She fixed Darcy with bright blue eyes and Darcy nodded obediently.

"I

can't imagine how.  " "Exactly what I told Wanda.  Besides, I have her
birth certificate,"

Wanda's mother said triumphantly.

"I doubt these folks want to hear about that, Millie."  Millie's
husband had been standing behind her, looking mildly embarrassed by his
wife's chatter.

"I suppose not, but it's just so exasperating.  I mean, she can have
all the nips and tucks she wants and dress up like a teenager and I
don't say a word
about it, but it seems to me she's going a bit far when she starts
lying to her own mother about her age."

Silence seemed the only safe response.  Darcy saw a suspicious tuck in
Cullen's cheek and knew he was struggling to hold back a laugh.

Obviously he was in no hurry to leap into the conversation.

"Millie."  Mr.  Millie was starting to look as if he wished he were
somewhere else.

"All right.  I'll stop nattering on."  Millie smiled down at Angie
again.

"I just had to tell you two what a beautiful little girl you have here.
Not that I can't see that you already know that," she added.

"She's lucky to have parents who care for her the way you two obviously
do."

"Oh, but" -- "Thank you."  Cullen's voice cut across Darcy's automatic
attempt to correct the woman's assumption that they were Angie's
parents.

With a last smile at the baby, Millie departed.  At another time Darcy
would have been amused to see that Mr.  M'filie had his hand firmly
around his wife's upper arm as if to prevent her from dashing back to
talk some more;' But there was a funny ache in her chest that made it
difficult to see the humor in the scene.  It was silly to let something
So small cause her pain.

What did it matter that Millie-Wanda's mother thought Angie was her
child?

It didn't matter at all except that, for a moment, she'd have given
almost anything for it to he true.

"I didn't see any reason to get into explanations," Cullen said.

"No, of course not."  Darcy forced a smile as she looked at him.

"She was quite a character, wasn't she?"

"I think her husband was about ready to gag her."

"I have a sneaking sympathy with poor Wanda."  Darcy wondered if it was
her imagination that made Cullen's humor seem a little forced.

"All that nipping and tucking and then betrayed by your own mother."

"Must be rough."

They finished theft meal, though Darcy could barely remember what she
was eating.  She refused dessert with a smile.  The tightness in her
stomach made her wonder if she'd he able to keep down what she'd
already eaten.

Angie was asleep almost as soon as Cullen strapped her into her car
seat.

The drive home was silent, with Darcy pretending an intense interest in
the scene outside her window.  She knew, with an instinct she didn't
question, that Cullen had every intention of having that long-delayed
talk tonight.

The one that would inevitably involve some discussion of the future, of
Darcy's place in the future he and Angie were bound to share.

Logically, she supposed such a discussion couldn't be postponed
forever, not when it involved Angie's future.  But surely it could be
delayed just one more night.

Cullen turned the car into the slot in front of the condo and it had
barely stopped moving before she reached for the door handle.

I'll get the diaper bag," she said, snatching it up and making her
escape.

It took time to get a baby out of a car seat.  Maybe she could be in
the shower by the time Cullen reached the condo.  She might have
succeeded in doing just that if it hadn't taken even more time than
usual to dig her keys out of the bottom of her cavernous purse.  She
was going to get a smaller purse, she promised herself as Cullen joined
her on the porch, the baby asleep in his arms.  Or a bigger key
chain.

"I'm going to hop in the shower," she said without looking at him.

"Darcy."  Cullen's voice halted her flight across the living room.

"I'd like to talk to you."

"Could it wait?"  she asked without turning.  "I think it's waited long
enough."

"I was just" -- .

"Please."

The single word was more effective than if he'd shouted.  She stopped
and turned to look at him, trying to keep the uneasiness from her
voice.

"It's getting late" -- "It's not even nine o'clock."

"I have to get up in the morning."

"It's Saturday.  You can sleep in."

He wasn't going to give up.  Darcy sighed.

"Why don't you put Angie to bed?"  She ran her fingers through her
hair, letting it tumble back to her shoulders like a pale gold curtain.
I'll put some coffee on.  " "Thanks."  They both knew he wasn't
thanking her for making coffee.

Chapter Five Cullen stopped in the kitchen doorway and indulged
himself by simply looking at Darcy.  The warm scent of coffee filled
the air.  She was getting mugs from the cupboard.  Their position on
the second shelf meant she had to reach to get them and her T-shirt
rode up, baring a swatch of pale skin.  above the waist of her jeans.

He knew the taste of that skin, knew that if he dragged his tongue
along the length of her spine, she'd tremble with need.  He knew the
way the soft flesh of her bottom yielded beneath his fingers.  Knew
that kissing the back of her knee made her giggle.  He knew every inch
of her, every muscle, every nerve, just where to touch her to have her
dissolve in his arms.

She was his.  He hadn't been her first lover but he'd been the first to
satisfy her, the first to show her the potential of her own body.

He'd never asked about her past lovers, any more than she'd asked about
his.

Never questioned her shocked surprise the first time she'd come apart
in his bed.

Whoever the man was--and he had the feeling there'd only been one--he'd
been a fool.  But Cullen admitted to a sneaking feeling of gratitude
toward the unknown fool.  He liked it that he'd been the one to
introduce Darcy to passion.  He didn't cam if he was first but he damn
well wanted to be last.

As if sensing his gaze, Darcy turned suddenly to face him; her fingers
tight around the cups she held.

"I didn't hear you," she said, her voice a LITTLE sharp with
surprise.

"Sorry.  I'll try to learn to stomp."  Cullen pushed himself away from
the door and came farther into the kitchen.

"Coffee smells good.

Thanks for making it.  " "You're welcome.  It's decal I didn't think
either one of us needed caffeine at this time of night."

"You're probably right."  He certainly didn't need anything to keep him
awake and she looked tense enough to shatter at any moment.

She set the mugs on the counter and poured coffee in them while Cullen
got a carton of half-and-half from the refrigerator.

"Did you get Angie to bed all right?"

"Out like a light."

Cullen poured a dollop of half-and-half into the mug decorated with a
lavender and white carousel horse.  The other mug displayed a
folk-art-style painting of a cat.  The mugs were among Darcy's
contributions to their living arrangements.  Before she'd moved in with
him, he'd had two plates, two forks, two knives, two of everything. And
the only coffee cup he'd owned had been a chipped white cup that looked
as if it had been recovered from the wreck of the Titanic. Darcy's
collection of colorful mugs was only one of the many ways she'd
brightened his life.

Without discuss' rag it, they took their coffee into the living
room.

Darcy curled up on the sofa.  Cullen chose the big leather chair that
sat at an angle nearby.  He took a sip of his coffee and then stared
down into it.

Darcy took a sip of hers and then studied a piece of lint on the arm of
the sofa.

The s'fience was deafening.

"I wanted" -- "You said" -- They both broke off and looked at each
other.

Cullen nodded.

"You first."

"I was just going to mention that you'd said you want~l to talk to
me."

"Funny.  I was just going to mention the same thing."  His smile was
rueful.

Darcy's was uncertain.  But the tension that had been threatening to
suffocate both of them was broken.

Cullen set his cup down on the thick sheet of glass that formed the top
of the coffee table, It was supported by a gnarled piece of driftwood.
He was going to have to get a new coffee table, he thought absently,
noting the sharp corners of glass.  Either that or find a way to pad
the edges of this one.  Angie was already standing up with a bit of
support.  According to what he'd read, it wouldn't be long until she
was trying to walk and he didn't want her to crack her head open on the
coffee table.

He said as much.  Darcy looked surprised but she glanced at the table
and nodded.

"The edges could probably he padded, maybe tape some old towels to the
glass."  She shook her head, her mouth curving in a half smile.

"Early American Baby decor."  "Not likely to start any new trends."

"Well, it might not attract the designer crowd," she agreed.

"Do you mind?"  he asked abruptly.

"That House & Garden isn't beating a path to our door?"  She raised her
brows.

"That there've been so many ... changes because of the baby."  He saw
her fingers tighten around the mug and her eyes shifted away from
his.

"I think it goes with the territory," she said lightly.  "Yes.  But I
couldn't blame you if you resented it."  He set down his barely touched
coffee and stood up.  There was too much churning inside him for him to
sit still.

"You didn't ask for any of this."

"You didn't, either."

"No.  But Susan was my sister, not yours?"  He turned and paced to the
sliding-glass door that led out onto the patio.  Twitching aside the
curtain, he stared out into the darkness, half wishing he hadn't
brought the subject up.  They'd been rubbing along together all right.
Why rock the boat?

Because you don't want it capsizing under you when you least expect
it.

Because you don't want to lose the best damn thing that's ever happened
to you.

He turned back to her with an abruptness that made Darcy jump.

"Look, I know I didn't give you any choice about this.  And I know I
should have.  I had no right to throw your life into turmoil without
even discussing it with you."

"What was there to discuss?"  She leaned forward to set her cup down,
the faint tremor in her hand belying the calm reason of her voice.

"You couldn't leave Angie where she was and there was no one else who
could take her."

"Yes."  They were the same arguments he'd used on himself and the logic
of them sounded just as inescapable as it had then.  But that didn't
soothe his conscience.  "I should have" -- "You did exactly what you
should have," Darcy interrupted.  She stood up and walked over to where
he stood, setting one slim hand on his arm and looking up at him.

"I'm not upset or angry that you didn't discuss this with me, Cullen.
The decision was only yours to make and you couldn't have made any
other."

He stared down at her, an uncharacteristic brooding look in his blue
eyes.

She was so good at hiding what she was thinking, what she was feeling.
It could have been a natural part of her makeup but he'd always
suspected that it was something she'd learned through hard
experience.

From the first moment he'd met her, he'd seen the shadows in her
eyes.

Someone or something had hurt her in the past.  Hurt her badly enough
to put those shadows there.  They'd begun to fade over the past few
months, as if she were--very slowly--starting to forget whatever it was
that had marked her.  Or if not forgetting, then at least putting it
behind her.

But just lately the shadows were back, turning her clear gray eyes
smoky, muting the sparkle he'd come to love.  He was afraid she was
slipping away from him and if he lost her, he'd lose the best part of
his life.  "You're not happy."

The flat statement hit Darcy with the force of a blow.  She let her
hand drop from his arm as she took a quick step back, grateful that the
light from the single lamp wouldn't be enough to reveal the way the
color had drained from her cheeks.

"I don't know what you mean."  It was a weak response, but it was the
best she could do.  She'd been so sure that she'd concealed her
feelings from him, so careful not to allow even the smallest crack in
the facade.

"I mean, you're ... uncomfortable around Angie."  Cullen hesitated over
the choice of words.  The feeling he got from Darcy wasn't
discomfort.

It was more like fear, but that sounded too ridiculous to say out
loud.

"I haven't spent a lot of time around babies, that's all."

"You said you'd done some baby-sitting," he reminded her.

"Baby-sitting is a little different from having one around full time,"
she said lightly.

But he continued to look at her, those clear blue eyes asking questions
she couldn't--wouldn't--answer.  If he knew the real reason.  "I--I
guess I'm not really the maternal type," Darcy said, lifting one
shoulder in a half shrug.

"I mean, I think Angie's adorable and all that, but she doesn't do a
whole lot, if you know what I mean.  You can't talk to her or
anything."  : She shrugged again, keeping her face turned from the
light to hide the color burning in her cheeks.  She hadn't realized she
had it in her to sound so completely shallow and inane.  You can't talk
to her.

As if she expected to be able to discuss Dostoyevski with a
six-month-old baby.  If Cullen hadn't despised her before, he probably
would now.

"I guess that sounds pretty stupid," she muttered when he didn't say
anything.

"No.  I think I understand what you're saying."  What he didn't
understand was why she was telling him such a barefaced lie.  He didn't
doubt that there were a good many people who felt that way.  He could
even understand it to a certain extent.  But he'd have bet any amount
of money that that wasn't how Darcy felt.

"I used to think I wanted to be a mother," Darcy said, almost choking
on the words.

"But I guess maybe I don't have the requisite genes.  I know that's not
what you want to hear.  Obviously you'd like me to say that I'll be a
terrific mother to Angie, but I don't think I'm cut out for the job.  I
know that's a real problem."

She stopped and swallowed hard.  It required every bit of self-control
to keep her voice level while she said what had to be said.

"If you want me to move out" -- "No!"  Cullen's response was
reassuringly quick and emphatic.

"That's the last thing I want."

He reached out and caught her hand in his as if afraid she might dash
out the door that instant.  Darcy drew a deep breath and closed her
eyes for a moment, relief so powerful inside her that her knees
actually felt ~weak.

"I don't want you to go," Cullen said firmly.  He pulled her into his
arms and Darcy went willingly, resting her head agaim.  t his chest and
feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

"I don't want to go," she said, and Cullen knew the admission didn't
come easily.

She guarded herself so carefully, he thought, bending to rest his cheek
against the top of her head, inhaling the soft scents of shampoo and
soap.

Darcy rarely wore perfume and he'd decided that the natural smell of a
woman was far more erotic than the most expensive perfume could ever
be.

"We'll work things out," he told her.

"But Angie has to come first, I wouldn't want to hurt her."

"We'll work everything out.  If the fact that you can't talk to her
really bothers you, just wait a year or so.  According to Sara Randall,
she'll be talking like a magpie by then."

Darcy's laugh was choked and she closed her eyes to hold back tears.

What had she ever done to deserve a man like Cullen Roberts?  But there
was something to what he said.  If she could hold on until Angie was a
little
older, until she wasn't quite so afraid of She blocked the thought,
focusing instead on the feel of Cullen's arms around her.  She always
felt safe when he held her.

"We'll work everything out," he said again.

If she'd just tell him what was really bothering her, maybe he'd be
able to do something about it, Cullen thought.  He felt as if he was
shadowboxing.

He could get glimpses of the enemy but there was nothing to catch hold
of, nothing to tell him What he was fighting.

But he wasn't giving up.  He was going to find out what was behind
those shadows in Darcy's odes and he was going to banish them
forever.

Cullen rearranged his work schedule, bringing most of his paperwork
home with him so that he could take care of Angie.  When he had to be
out on a site, he left her with Sara Randall's youngest daughter.

Divorced, with two children of her own, Marie welcomed the extra money
and Cullen knew Angie would be well cared for.

Though it had been less than a month, it was already impossible for him
to imagine his life without Angie in it.  Until his sister's death, he
hadn't given much thought to fatherhood.  He'd had a vague idea in the
back of his head that he might like to have a child someday but, at
thirty-four, he hadn't felt that there was any rush to make plans.

Now, abruptly, he found himself plunged into the deep end of parenthood
and enjoying it more than he'd ever have imagined.  Every day was a new
discow cry, for himself as well as for Angie.  She'd filled a gap in
his life he hadn't even realized was there.

With her and Darcy, his life was complete.  All he had to do was figure
out a way to prove to Darcy how right the three of them were
together.

Darcy had mixed feelings about see' rag the ties grow ever stronger
between Cullen and his niece.  She couldn't wish for anything less for
either of them, but with each day that passed, it seemed clearer that
she didn't--couldn't--fit into the tidy picture before her.

Still, things were better than they had been.  Talking with Cullen had
helped.  She hadn't told him the truth--at least not all of it--but
she'd made it clear that he'd better not count on her to round out the
happy family picture.  And it seemed as if he'd accepted that.  He
certainly didn't thrust Angie into her arms in an attempt to encourage
some kind of bonding between them.

Without the pressure of expectations--even if they had been strictly
her own--Darcy found herself, paradoxically, more comfortable around
the baby than she had been.  She relaxed enough to allow herself to
enjoy the innocent pleasure Angie took in everything that happened into
her field of vision.

She'd almost forgotten the sheer fun to he had in watching those
moments of discovery that came so often for an infant.  Angie was
fascinated by everything she saw and innocently confident that the
world was her personal oyster.

It would have taken a much harder heart than Darcy's not to be touched
by the baby's pleasure in life.  There was a certain pain in watching
Angie, but it wasn't as sharp as she'd expected it to be.

Apparently, time really did, if not heal, then at least numb all
pain.

As long as Cullen didn't expect her to be responsible for Angie, she
could almost let herself believe that things might work out, after
all.

The early-summer days slipped by in a not unpleasant pattern.  An
evening in early June found Darcy and Cullen both at home.  Darcy had
fixed dinner and afterward they'd settled in the living room.  Cullen
was reading a list of recent changes in the building code that could
affect projects he and Kiel had coming up.  Darcy had a new mystery
open in her lap, but her attention kept wandering from the book.

After twenty minutes on the same page, with not a word of it sticking
in her head, she gave up.  She looked up, wondering if Cullen's
building codes were as boring as her novel.  If they were, maybe he'd
be interested in watching an old movie on cable.  He was sound asleep,
which answered her question about how boring the building codes were,
she supposed.

Darcy's features softened as she looked at him.  He probably needed the
sleep.  Between running JR Construction and taking care of Angie, he
was handling two full-time jobs.  It was no wonder he was dozing off at
seven o'clock.

She caught a movement out the corner of her eye and turned to see Angie
crawling in her direction.

Well, "crawl" wasn't an entirely accurate description.  It was more a
series of belly flops, but What she lacked in coordination, Angie made
up for in determination.  Since discovering this new method of
locomotion a few days before, she'd become an indefatigable explorer,
which had required some hasty redecorating to get every possible danger
out of her reach.

Now Angie was making her way toward Darcy with solemn perseverance, her
blue eyes fixed on Darcy's bright purple socks.  Smiling, Darcy wiggled
her toes a little.  With a grunt of effort, Angie heaved herself the
last few inches and flopped onto her belly in front of her goal.  Her
tiny fingers closed over Darcy's toes, her grip surprisingly strong.

Darcy wiggled her toes again, enjoying the little girl's intent frown
as she studied this new toy.  Having examined with sight and touch,
there was only one choice left, which was taste.

"Hey."  Darcy laughed softly as she leaned forward to scoop the baby
up.

"It's one thing to chew on your own toes but you can't go around
munching on other people's.  It's just not done in polite society."

Angie was willing to give up the purple sock in exchange for being
held.

Besides, her new position put her in reach of other interesfmg
objects.

Chubby fingers closed around the gold chain Darcy wore around her neck.
The chain had been a birthday gift from Cullen not long after she'd
moved in with him and she rarely took it off.

"That was a present from your uncle," she told the baby.  Angie didn't
lift her eyes but continued to study the chain very seriously.  After a
moment she leaned forward to taste it.  Laughing, Darcy pulled her
back.  "You're going to have to get over this tendency to put
everything in your mouth, punkin."

Deprived of the chain, Angie reached for Darcy's nose.  Darcy shook her
head free and caught one little hand in hers.  Bringing it to her
mouth, she nibbled on the tiny fingers, drawing a rich baby chuckle.

For a few moments she completely forgot all the reasons she needed to
keep her distance, for Angie's sake as well as her own, and she let
herself simply enjoy the small person in her arms.

From his position on the sofa, Cullen watched the two of them through
slitted eyes.  He knew that the instant Darcy realized he was awake,
she'd get that oddly guilty look on her face and hand the baby to
him.

No maternal feelings, his Aunt Fanny.  In the rare moments like this,
when she forgot whatever it was that haunted her, she was as natural a
mother as it was possible to imagine.  Her quiet laughter mixed with
Angie's fat chuckles and he thought he'd never heard a sweeter sound in
his life.

She loved Angie, whether she knew it or not.  And though she'd never
said the words, he knew Darcy loved him.  And God knew, he loved her
more than he'd ever dreamed possible.  He'd cajoled her into moving in
with him, then he'd waited for her to open her eyes and see that what
they had was too special to give up.  His becoming Angie's guardian had
thrown a monkey wrench in the works, but only for a little while.
Surely Darcy was starting to see that they could work things out.

Smiling, she buried her nose in Angie's neck, eliciting squeals of
delighted laughter as Angie's chubby hands caught fisffuls of Darcy's
pale gold hair.

Cullen felt his heart swell with love for them both and he was
unashamed of the sharp sting of tears at the backs of his eyes.

He was willing to admit to a few doubts, but now he knew that it was
going to be all right, after all.

Chapter Six ~ ~What have you got planned for today?  " Cullen asked.
He was sitting at the table, feeding Angie her breakfast when Darcy
walked into the kitchen.

"Shopping.  And I wanted to catch up on some paperwork I brought home
with me yesterday.  Everyone and their dog wants a loan.  There aren't
enough hours in the day to get everything done."

She opened the refrigerator and peered inside, hoping for inspiration.
The sight of last night's leftover p'~za made her stomach churn
sluggishly and she shut the door.  Maybe she'd just have a cup of
coffee this morning.

She'd awakened in the middle of the night again last night and had been
unable to resist the need to go into the nursery and stand next to the
crib, watching the steady rise and fall of the baby's breathing.
Reassured, she'd gone back to bed, only to wake an hour later,
trembling in the aftermath of a nightmare.  It was the third night this
week that her sleep had been chopped up and the strain was starting to
tell.  She felt gray and worn.

"You look tired," Cullen commented as she poured herself a cup of
coffee and sat down across the table from him.

"Thanks," she said dryly.

"Nice to know I'm looking my best."

"I didn't say you looked bad.  I said you looked tired."  He fed the
baby a spoonful of carrots, deftly scraping the excess off her chin.

"There's a difference?"  She took a sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine
would jump start her sluggish brain.

"I heard you get up last night."

"I had a little trouble sleeping.  Too much going on at work, I guess."
She shrugged.  To her relief, Cullen accepted the explanation for her
insomnia without question.

"You need a day off."

"This is my day off."

"Not if you've brought home paperwork."  He managed to sneak another
bite of carrots into Angie's mouth.  She pursed her lips as if to spit
them out, saw Cullen watching her and grinned instead.  He shuddered.

"You have disgusting table manners," he told her firmly.  She banged
her spoon on the metal tray of her high chair and squealed her delight
at this description.

"I don't think she believes you," Darcy commented.

Hearing her voice, Angie turned and favored Darcy with the same
carrot-smeared grin.  Darcy smiled back, feeling that odd little twist
in her chest that had become so familiar in the weeks since Angie had
come to live
with them.  She was such a beautiful little girl.  It would be so easy
to love her.  If only she dared take that risk.

"Can your paperwork wait?"

Cullen's question drew her attention back to him.  He'd dampened a doth
and was busy wiping carrot off of Angie's face and hands.

"I suppose it could.  Why?"

"Because we're going on a picnic.[~ " A picnic?  " "You know, one of
those meals Where you sit on the cold, hard ground, fending off wasps
and ants and getting sunburned.  A picnic."

She wrinkled her nose at him.

"You make it sound so appealing."

"The challenge is half the fun," he said briskly.  He stood up and
lifted Angie out of her high chair.  She kicked madly.

"I've arranged for Marie to take Angie for the day."

Darcy hesitated over the refusal she'd been about to give him.

"Just the two of us?"

"I thought it might be nice for a change."

"I don't mind if Angie comes along," she said quickly.

"She's a good baby."

"She's a pest."  Since he was tickling Angie's toes at the time, it was
clear that "pest" was not the pejora-five it might have been.

Settling the baby in one arm, he looked at Darcy, his azure eyes
holding an expression that made Darcy's heart beat a little faster.

"I want some time without distractions.  And being a distraction ranks
high on Angie's best talents."

"I really should do some of that paperwork," she said slowly.

"The paperwork won't go anywhere.  Come on, Darcy.  Play hooky with
me."

The coaxing tone was more than she could resist, as was the thought of
having him to herself for a whole afternoon.  She didn't resent Angie's
demands on his time but she wouldn't have been human if she didn't miss
the times when it had been just the two of them.

"Okay.  A picnic sounds like fun, ants and all."  Besides, who knew if
there would be another time.

Darcy leaned her head back against the seat and let the wind from the
open car window blow through her hair.  It would look like a haystack
by the time they got to whatever spot Cullen had chosen for their
picnic, but she didn't care.  She'd made up her mind that she wasn't
going to worry about anything today.  Not the future, not the past, not
even the present that was all tangled up in both of them.  Today, she
was simply going to enjoy the moment.

She'd been mildly surprised when Ctillen headed the car north out of
Santa Barbara, but when she asked him where they were going, he shook
his head and said it was a surprise.  The idea of a mysterious
destination fit right in with her mood so she simply leaned back to
enjoy the trip.

They were driving up the coast highway and the Padfie sparkled on their
left.

A few miles above Santa Barbara, Cullen turned inland, driving between
rolling hills that still showed green from the winter rains.

Live oaks dotted the land, their heavy trunks and twisted branches
revealing their age.  He turned onto a gravel road, drove a couple of
miles and stopped the car in a tiny valley that nestled between two
hills.  As soon as he shut the engine off, silence washed over them.

"What do you think?"  There was a certain tension in his voice as if
her answer was important to him.

Darcy looked from him to the emptiness around them.

"I think it's beautiful," she said truthfully.  "But it seems like a
long drive for a picnic."

"I'm going to build a house here."  He pushed open his ear door and got
out.

Darcy followed suit.  She looked at the site again, visualizing a house
era died against one of the hills, the little valley stretching out
from the front door.

"It's a wonderful place.  for a home."

"I don't want to disturb the site any more than necessary, so it may
take a little longer than usual because we won't be bringing in as much
heavy equipment."

Darcy came around the ear to help him unload the picnic things from the
trunk.  Cullen continued to talk about his plans for the house as they
headed for the shade of an ancient sycamore, laid out a blanket and
spread their picnic items along one edge of it.

By the time they'd eaten the sandwiches they'd bought in town, Darcy
felt as if she could see the house he'd described.  Redwood and glass,
a style somewhere between traditional and modern, with plenty of light
filling the rooms and a big deck carefully fitted around the existing
oak trees.  The house wouldn't blend in with its surroundings right
away, but in a few years when the sun had weathered the redwood to a
soft, faded gray, you'd probably have to look twice to know there was a
house there.

"It sounds beautiful," she said wistfully.  She drew her knees up to
her chest and narrowed her eyes as she pictured how the house would
look.

"I envy the people you're building it for."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"  she asked, still looking out at the imaginary house.

"Don't envy them."

"Why not?"  Now she turned to look at him, her brows raised in
surprise.

"Because it's us.  Or maybe, we're them."  "We're who?"

"We're the people who are going to live in that house."  Cullen had
been leaning back on his elbows but now he sat up, close enough that
his shoulder almost brushed hers.

"It's my lot, Darcy, and it's our house I was describing.  If you like
it, that is."

'"If I like it?"  She stared at him.

"If you don't, I'll come up with another design."

"No.  No, the design sounds perfect."  She turned and looked back at
the spot where he'd planned to build.  The house was still there in her
mind's eye, only now it was her house--her's and Cullen's.

And the baby's.

She shivered a little, the image blurring around the edges.  He was
asking
for a bigger commitment than they had now.  He hadn't said it yet but
the question was there.

"I don't know, Cullen."  She shook her head.

"It's a beautiful place and the house sounds wonderful but I-- Oh."

Her words ended on a squeak of shock as she turned back toward him and
saw what he was holding out to her.  It was a small black box.  A
jeweler's box.

Just the size box to hold a ring.  Darcy stared at it in shock, her
mind spinning.  When she didn't reach to take it from him, Cullen
brought up his other hand to open it.  Nestled on a bed of black velvet
was a diamond solitaire, utterly simple, utterly beautiful.  Utterly
terrifying.

"Marry me, Darcy."

"Oh, God."  She lifted one hand to her mouth, still staring at the ring
like a rabbit mesmerized by the glare of headlights on a country road.
Realizing that "Oh, God" was not exactly an intelligent response to a
proposal, she tried again.

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

It was the first tame either of them had spoken the words out loud and
the simple beauty of them made tears well in Darcy's eyes.

"Oh, Cullen.  I love you, too."

"Good."  His grin was a little crooked around the edges.

"That makes the feeling mutual.  Say yes and everything will be
perfect."

The word trembled on the tip of her tongue.  Yes, she loved him.  Yes,
she would marry him.  It seemed such an obvious progression.

But it wasn't simple at all.

Darcy scrambled to her feet and turned away from him.  She pressed her
forearms against her diaphragm, trying to still the flutter of panic
there.

"I can't marry you."

"Why not?"  Cullen asked calmly as he stood up behind her.

"You love me.  I love you.  What could be simpler?"

"I wish it was that simple but there are things you don't know about
me."

"There are things you don't know about me.  That's one of the things
marriage is for, so you can get to know everything about the person you
love."

"No.  There are bad things you don't know," Darcy said, her voice so
low he had to strain to hear it over the whisper of the breeze in the
grass.

"Like what?"  Maybe, finally, she'd tell him what it was that tortured
her so.  He closed his hands around her upper arms, trying to reassure
her without words that he was there for her.

"Tell me, Darcy."

"I was married before."

Cullen's fingers tightened momentarily in surprise.  He hadn't been
expecting that.  A part of him instantly rejected the idea that she'd
ever belonged to anyone else, bound by ties of man and God tighter than
any he'd yet claimed.

"That's not a crime," he managed to say calmly.  "Are you divorced?"

"Yes," she said indignantly.  She pulled out of his hold and turned to
look at him.

"Do you think I'd be living with you if I were still married?"

"I don't know.  You said there were things I didn't know.  Being
divorced isn't a crime, either."  His eyes searched her face, searching
for something he didn't want to find.

"Are you still in love with him?"

"No!  God, no."  It was her turn to take hold of him.  "I don't love
anyone but you, Cullen.  I don't think I ever loved him.  I was lonely
and he seemed kind and... we got married.  But I didn, t feel anything
for him that was even close to what I feel for you."

"I believe you."  He felt the knot in his stomach uncoil a little as he
drew her close and stroked his hand over her pale gold hair.

"You haven't told me anything to make me regret proposing, Darcy.  Is
that all there is?"

It wasn't her marriage she'd been afraid to confess to, Darcy thought
as she pressed her face against the soft cotton of his shirt and felt
the reassuring thud of his heart.  Her marriage was the least of the
secrets she was keeping.

"You can tell me, Darcy."

Maybe she could.  If she could tell anyone, it would be Cullen.  But
what if she told him and then he looked at her the same way Mark had?

Mark had promised to love, honor and cherish her, but in the end he'd
hated her, blamed her for what had happened.  Maybe he'd been right to
blame her.

She'd managed to survive it when Mark looked at her that way.  But if
she ever saw the same look in Cullen's eyes, she knew something vital
would shrivel and die inside her.

"Darcy?  Is there something else?"

"No."  She closed her eyes as she whispered the denial.  She couldn't
take the chance.

"Then there's no reason why you can't wear this," Cullen said, his
voice husky as he slid the ring on her finger.

She curled her fingers as if to stop him, but it was too late.

Opening her eyes, she stared at her hand where it rested on his chest.
The diamond glittered back at her, warm with promise, glittering with
hope.

"What about Angie?"  she whispered, still staring at the ring.

"We've managed so far, haven't we?"

"Yes, but" -- "Then we'll keep managing."

He made it sound so simple.  Darcy moved her finger, hypnotized by the
rainbow lights that danced from the ring.  Was it possible it really
was that simple?  And she was simply complicating things
unnecessarily?

"Stop trying to complicate things, honey."  Cullen's words matched her
own thoughts so closely that Darcy wondered if he could actually read
her mind.

"We can make this work if we want it bad enough."  "I don't know."

"I know."  He slid his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to
his.

His eyes were so bright and clear that it seemed as if the sunlight was
caught in them.

"I love you, Darcy."

"I love you, too," she said, her tone more despairing than happy.

"You're going to have to work on that," he chided.  "You're not
supposed to sound so gloomy about it."

"I'm sorry."  She summoned up a smile.

"I do love you, Cullen."  : -"That's better.  Not perfect, but
better.

You'll have years to practice after we're married."

"I haven't said I'll marry you," she protested in a panic.

"You haven't said you won't, either."

Her eyes searched his, wondering how it was possible that she was the
only one with doubts.  But there was no trace of doubt in his eyes.  He
looked as if he knew exactly what he was doing.  She only wished she
felt the same.

"I think it's traditional to kiss right about now," be said lightly.

But there was nothing light about his kiss.  The kiss was pure hunger
and need.  Darcy could have resisted the hunger, but she wasn't proof
against the need.  Her head was still spinning with doubt as her hands
slid into the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck.

Cullen groaned and crushed her closer still, deepening the kiss to
passion.

Darcy answered with a passion of her own, her mouth opening to his,
welcoming the invading presence of his tongue.  The kiss went on and on
until she felt almost light-headed from lack of oxygen.

They broke apart at last, stepping back to stare at each other.

"Darcy?"  He made her name a question.  For answer, she reached for the
buttons on his shirt.

She didn't notice the roughness of the blanket against her back.  All
that mattered was the solid weight of Cullen's body above her, the feel
of him' within.

Lying there in the open with no witnesses but the sun and the wind and
a hawk tracing lazy circles in the sky, they confirmed their love in
the most elemental of ways.  In the final moment, as her body arched
taut as a bowstring against his, the sun caught on the ring he'd given
her and the resultant rainbow seemed dazzling with the promise of
dreams fulfilled.  If only she dared to reach for them.

The trip back to Santa Barbara passed in almost complete silence.

Darcy alternated staring at the ting on her finger and staring out the
window, between elation and terror.

Angie greeted them both with her usual good cheer, clearly holding no
grudge for having been abandoned for the better part of a day.  Darcy
hung back, as usual, watching as Cullen picked Angie up and swung her
over his head.  There was a familiar ache in her chest, but for the
first time she recognized it for what it was.  It wasn't a longing for
the past, it was a hunger for the present, a need to he part of the
picture, a yearning to come in out of the cold.

Though the day's heat lingered on the evening air, Darcy shivered,
frightened by the depth of her need.  Inside her, a little voice was
saying that she didn't deserve to step into the warmth, that she could
never make up for her terrible failure.

She was careful to keep her left hand hidden while they chatted with
Marie.

She wasn't at all sure about her engagement.  The last thing she
wanted to do was accept congratulations.  She was grateful when Cullen
didn't say anything to the other woman, but then on the way home she
wondered if that had been out of consideration for her or because he
was having second thoughts.

But when they went to bed, he turned and drew her into his arms, and he
certainly didn't feel like a man having second thoughts.  Having burned
away some of the urgency earlier in the day, this time around their
lovemaking was full of tenderness.  Soft sighs, gliding touches, a slow
build to a shivering completion that left them both replete.

"I love you," Cullen whispered against her hair.  "I love you, too."

Darcy lay awake long after he'd gone to sleep.  Staring into the
darkness, she realized that She couldn't marry him without telling him
the truth.  The thought sent a chill through her but she knew it had to
be done.  She couldn't keep a secret like that for the rest of her life
and it was better that it come out now, before the ties between them
were woven any tighter.

She tried to tell herself that it would be all right.  He wasn't
anything like Mark.  If anyone could understand, it would be Cullen.

Tears burned her eyes and wet her cheeks as she stared into the
darkness, the weight of old guilt so heavy on her chest that it
actually hurt to breathe.

God help her, how could she expect anyone to understand that she'd been
responsible for her own baby's death?

It seemed as if she'd barely dropped off to sleep when the nightmare
grabbed her.  There was the crib, all draped in black ribbons.

Somewhere a baby cried--her baby--but she couldn't get to him.

Something held her feet in place.  The cries went on and on and she
tried to lift her hands to cover her ears, but the same force kept her
hands captive.

She could only stand there, listening to the crying, struggling to
break free.

And then Mark was standing in front of her, his pleasant face twisted
with grief and hatred, his mouth an ugly slash, the words spilling out
like venom-tipped darts.  What kind of mother are you?  This was your
fault.  Your fault.  your fault.  your fault.  And then he was gone and
the crying stopped and there was only silence.  She was free to move at
last, but it was too late.  She crumpled to the ground, sobbing.  She
was alone.  Alone.  Just as she'd always be, just as she deserved to
be.

"Darcy!  Wake up!"  Cullen's voice was mixed with the sound of her own
sobs as Darcy swam up out of the depths of the dream.  Her fingers dug
into the muscles in his arms as she pressed herself against him,
drawing strength from his solid warmth.

"It's okay.  I've got you safe," he murmured, stroking her hair,
holding her until the tremors eased.  "That must have been one hell of
a nightmare."

Darcy said nothing.  She felt the weight of his ring on her finger and
opened her eyes to stare at it in the darkness.  It might have been her
imagination
but she thought she could almost see a flicker of light in the heart
of the stone.  But it was gone in an instant, as if it hadn't been
there at all.  : Her thinking, which had been muddled from the moment
Cullen had said he was building a house for the two of them, was
suddenly crystal clear.  The dream had been a reminder, a warning.
She'd almost let herself forget, almost let herself believe that she
could leave the past behind.  But it couldn't be done.  Some things
just couldn't be forgotten Or forgiven.

"You want to tell me what it was about?"  Cullen asked, his hand
stroking her back.

"I can't marry you."

His hand froze for an instant.

"You mean, you dreamed you couldn't marry me?"

"No.  I mean, I can't marry you."  Darcy pulled away from him and he
let her go without a struggle.  She could feel his eyes on her as she
slid off the bed and groped for the robe she'd draped over the foot of
the bed.  She slid it on just as he turned on the lamp next to the
bed.

"Why can't you marry me?"  He sounded more curious than hurt, but Darcy
knew it was because he didn't believe she meant it.  But she meant it.
She knew what she had to do and this time she wasn't going to persuade
herself otherwise.

"I just can't.  It would be a mistake."  She belted the robe around her
narrow waist and ran her fingers through her hair to comb it into a
rough sort of order.

"Does this have something to do with your nightmare?"  Cullen slid off
the bed and she averted her eyes from his naked form, not looking at
him again until she heard the whisper of jeans being pulled on and the
rasp of a zipper.

"It's not the nightmare."  A partial truth, anyway.  "I just realized
that it would be a terrible mistake if we got married.  It wouldn't be
fair to you."

"Let me be the judge of what's fair to me," he snapped.

"And it wouldn't be fair to the baby," she continued as if he hadn't
spoken.

"I thought we'd settled that issue."

"No.  We just postponed it.  I know you think we could work things out,
but the truth is that I can't be what you want, Cullen."

"You are what I want, damreit!~ Why would I ask you to marry me if I
wanted something else?"

"You want a mother for Angie and you think I'll become that if you just
give it a little time."

The color that stained his cheeks confirmed the accuracy of her
words.

I'll admit that I've got my fantasies of the three of usas one big
happy family," he admitted gruffly, " but if that doesn't work out,
that's okay.

What's important is that we love each other.  Or have you changed your
mind about that, too?  " "No.  I love you."  She bent her head to stare
at the ring she'd twisted off her finger.

"It's because I love you that I can't marry you.  And I can't live with
you anymore, either."

"Oh, for chris sake Don't give me a bunch of psycho babble.  You don't
not marry someone because you love them."

"That's exactly what I'm doing."  She tossed the ring onto the bed,
where it lay between them.  All the life seemed gone from it.  It was
suddenly just a band of gold with a lifeless rock in it.

Cullen lifted his gaze from the ring to Darcy's face.  He was chilled
by what he read there.  She meant it.  She really intended to leave. He
drew a slow, steady breath.  She was upset.  He'd rushed her this
afternoon, just what he'd promised himself he wouldn't do.  Whatever
her demons were, he'd known they couldn't be conquered easily.

Obviously the nightmare had shaken her badly.  In the morning, when
she'd calmed down, they'd be able to talk about this.  He'd give her
more time, if that's what she needed.  But he wasn't going to lose her.
Not without a fight.

He bent to scoop the ring off the bed, closing his fingers so tightly
around it that the setting dug into his palm.

"It's late.  We're both tired.  Why don't we go back to bed.  I'll
sleep on the sofa," he added quickly, seeing the objection in her
eyes.

"You can't move out in the middle of the night, anyway," he added,
striving for a reasonable tone and finding it with considerable
effort.

Darcy nodded slowly.

"I should be the one to take the sofa, though.

It's not big enough for you.  " Cullen wondered if it struck her as
ironic that she'd just driven an emotional stake through his heart and
now she was worried about the sofa being too short.  But it probably
made perfect sense to her since in her mind she was doing this for his
sake, anyway.

"I'll take the sofa."  At least that way he knew she couldn't sneak out
in the middle of the night because he'd be between her and the front
door.

He walked past her but stopped in the doorway and turned to look at
her.  She stood beside the bed, her arms at her sides, her head bent so
that a curtain of pale hair fell forward to conceal her profile.

He was hurt and angry and there was a part of him that would have liked
to shake some sense into her.  But she looked so lost and alone
standing there.

Ridiculous as it was, he knew she really believed she was doing this
for his own good.  In a bizarre way, he supposed this was proof that
she loved him.

And he didn't doubt that she was hurting every bit as much as he was.

He ran his fingers through his hair, aware that they were not quite
steady.

When he spoke, his voice re-fleeted the weariness he felt.

"Look, I know I rushed you this afternoon.  I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize."  Her voice was so low, he had to strain
to hear it.

"This afternoon was wonderful."

If it had been so wonderful, then why was she leaving him tonight?

"I thought so, too," he said mildly.

"What I'm getting at here is, don't make any hasty decisions.  It's
late.

You're tired.  It was an emotional day.  You just had one hell of a
nightmare.  It's not a good time to be making life-altering
decisions.

let's sleep on it and we'll talk in the morning."  : He waited, but
there was no response, unless he counted a faint movement of her head
that could have been either a nod yes or a shake no.  He chose to
interpret it as the former.

Not that it really mattered because they were going to talk in the
morning, if he had to tie her to a chair to get her to listen.

He sighed.

"I'll see you in the morning, then."  He turned and left without
waiting for a response.

Cullen didn't bother turning on any lights in the living room.

Sinking onto the sofa, he set his elbows on his knees and let his head
drop forward into the support of his hands.  He sat there for a long
time, listening to the rhythm of his own breathing and the soft sound
of Darcy's muffled weeping from the bedroom.

Chapter Seven Cullen hadn't expected to sleep at all, but he dozed off
sometime around six in the morning, only to be awakened at seven by
Angie's announcement that she was ready to get up.  Bleary-eyed, he
rolled off the sofa, groaning at the stiffness in his back, and
stumbled into the nursery.

Angie stopped crying as soon as she saw him, giving him that cheery,
two-toothed grin that never failed to melt his heart.

"Good morning, imp."  She babbled happily in reply, lifting her arms to
be picked up.

Cullen changed her and dressed her in a pair of cotton rompers.  He
carried her out to the kitchen, eyeing the bedroom do9r as he went by.
There was no sign of life behind it.  Maybe Darcy was still sleeping.
Maybe some sleep would make her see how ridiculous the whole idea of
her leaving was.

He fed Angie her breakfast, his attention a little more absentminded
than usual.  He was just wiping traces of cereal off her hands and face
when the doorbell rang.

"Who do you suppose that is?"  he muttered as he hoisted Angie out of
her seat.  Eight o'clock on a Sunday morning wasn't exactly a normal
time for drop-in visitors.

"Kiel.  What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too."  Kiel raised one dark eyebrow as he walked
past his partner into the living room.  Cullen shut the door and
followed him.

"You look like hell," Kiel said bluntly.

"Thanks."  Cullen thrust his fingers through his hair and ran a hand
over his unshaven jaw.

"What are you doing here?"

"Darcy called me."  Kiel seemed surprised that Cullen didn't know.

"She said you had some things you needed moved.  Said it was urgent."

"She called you?"  Cullen repeated, feeling as if he'd just been kicked
in the gut.

"Yes, I did."

He looked past Kiel to see Darcy standing in the archway that led from
the living room to the rear of the condo.  She was wearing a pair of
jeans and a white T-shirt--one of his T-shirts.  Her hair was pulled
back from her face in a ponytail, and he was uncharitably pleased to
see that she looked every bit as lousy as he felt.

"Why did you call Kiel?"  he demanded.

"Because my things won't fit in my car," she answered reasonably.

"Your things?"  That was Kiel, looking startled.  "Are you leaving?"

"No."  Cullen's answer overrode hers.

"I thought we were going to talk this morning."

"There's nothing to talk about."  Her voice was steadier than he would
have liked.  She sounded so damned sure.

"There's plenty to talk about."  Angie wiggled impatiently, tired of
be' rag held when no one was paying any attention to her.  Cullen bent
to set her on the floor, reaching to hand her a cloth ball to play
with.  "You can't just leave like this," he said to Darcy as she
straightened.

"It's for the best."

"Best for who?  You?  It sure as hell isn't best for me."  "Maybe I
should come back later," Kiel said, looking as if he'd like nothing
more than to disappear in a puff of smoke.  Neither of them heard him.
"You don't understand.

I tried to explain.  " "Explain?  You didn't explain anything. Damreit,
Darcy, you can't do this."

"I am doing it."  Her voice shook with suppressed emotion.

"Someday you'll" -- "If you say I'll thank you for this, I swear to God
I won't be responsible for my actions," he snarled.

"Look, it really does sound like you two have things to discuss."

Kiel edged toward the door, stepping over Angie, who'd abandoned the
ball in favor of exploration.

"Don't go."  Darcy took a quick step forward, her hand lifting as if
she were a shipwreck victim and Kiel washer last hope of rescue.

"Do go," Cullen said, stepping back to clear a path to the door~ Kiel
looked from one to the other, clearly torn.  Before anyone could say or
do anything,
there was an odd sound from Angie, who was sitting on the floor next
to the sofa.  All three adults looked at her.  She looked.  odd, Cullen
thought.

Suddenly afraid, he started toward her.

"What's wrong?"

"She's choking!"  Darcy was across the room in a heartbeat and had
Angie up and facedown across her lap.  Using the flat of her hand, she
struck the baby four quick blows across the back.  When there was no
response, she repeated the maneuver~ Afterward, Cullen could have sworn
that he actually heard the pop as the object she'd inhaled popped
loose.  It dropped from her open mouth and fell to the carpet.  There
was a moment of utter stillness and then Angie drew a ragged breath.
She drew a second and expelled it with a frightened wail.

Cullen sank to his knees, shaking with reaction.  Darcy pulled Angie up
and into her arms, rocking her, murmuring soothingly to her as Angie
cried out her fright.  Kiel bent to pick up the near fatal object and
Cullen wasn't surprised to see that his friend's fingers were
unsteady.

"It's a button," Kiel murmured, sinking into a chair.

"Just a button."  He held it out to Cullen.

"I noticed one was missing off one of my shirts a couple of days ago,"
Cullen said.  He closed his fist over the button as if he would crush
it.

"I thought it had probably come off in the washer."

"A button," Kiel said again, sounding dazed.

Angie's sobs didn't last long.  She'd had a fright, but she wasn't hurt
and, with no real concept of death or dying, the memory of her fear
faded quickly from her mind.

"Here.  You should hold her."  Darcy's voice sounded thin and her face
was almost as white as the T-shirt she wore.

Cullen took the baby from her, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt
the wonderful alive weight of her.  When he opened his eyes, he saw
Darcy halfway to the bedroom, her uncertain stride evidence that her
knees were no steadier than his.  The door closed behind her with a
quiet click.

"Maybe you should go after her.  She looks pretty shook up," Kiel
said.

"Yeah."  Angie wiggled to tell him that he was holding her too tight
and Cullen loosened his hold.  He looked down at her, confirming that
she was really and truly all right.  Her thick dark lashes were still
spiky with tears, but she smiled at him as if she hadn't a care in the
world.  Which, he supposed, she didn't.  He only wished he could forget
the terror of the last few minutes as easily as she had.

He stood up and Kiel did the same.

"Here.  Look after her for a few minutes."

"Me?"  Kiel automatically closed his hands around Angie as Cullen
thrust her against his chest.

"I don't know anything about babies."

"Neither did I," Cullen said over his shoulder.  "But..."

The bedroom door cut off the rest of Kiel's protest.  Cullen wasn't
worried.

He knew his partner would manage.  What concerned him now was Darcy.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around
herself, rocking back and forth while slow tears seeped down her white
cheeks.

"Are you all right?"

She shook her head without speaking, her face twisted with pain.

Moving slowly, Cullen crossed the room and knelt down in front of
her.

"You did an incredible job, Darcy.  I wouldn't have known what to do
for her."  : "It was my fault," she said, the words choked.

"Your fault?  How do you figure that?  It was a button off my shirt."

"All my fault," she moaned, un hearing

"Mark said it was and he was right."

"Mark?  Your ex-husband?"  It was a stab in the dark but it was obvious
that the close call with Angie had trigger&t some old memories.

"He said it was my fault," she said again, her eyes staring at
something he couldn't see.  Whatever it was, it was obvious it was
tearing her to pieces.

Taking a chance, Cullen reached for her hands, prying them loose from
where they gripped her elbows and closing his fingers around them,
trying to tell her without words that she wasn't alone.

"What did he think was your fault, Darcy?"  he asked quietly, wondering
if he was finally going to get an answer to the demons that preyed on
her.

She blinked and suddenly seemed to see him.  He expected to see the
shutters come up in her eyes, blocking him out again, but there was
nothing but pain and a kind of weary acceptance in her eyes, as if
she'd run as far and as long as she could.

"It was my fault our baby died."

Cullen's fingers tightened over hers, his eyes going momentarily blank.
A baby?  She'd had a baby?  He felt as if he'd just received a kick
over the heart.  He struggled to keep the shock and hurt from showing
in his face, but he must not have succeeded.

"I'm sorry, Cullen.  I should have told you."

"You're telling me now," he said, his voice steadier than he'd
expected.

"Tell me what happened."

"We... I guess it never was a very happy marriage," she said in a voice
drained of emotion.

"We got along okay but there was never really any spark between us.  I
think we both knew it was a mistake, but then we found out I was
pregnant.

Thingsseemed to get better between us and we were happy for a while.
Even after the baby was born.  Mark was so thrilled that it was a
boy."

"What was his name?"  His voice was raspy but she didn't seem to
notice.

"Aaron.  We named him Aaron.  He was a beautiful baby.  Quiet but
happy."

She smiled dreamily, lost in memory.

"What happened?"  Cullen asked, knowing that if there was any chance of
healing, it could only come after the wound was completely exposed.

Darcy's smile faded and her eyes darkened from smoky gray to almost
black.

"He died.  I put him in his crib one night and in the morning he was...
gone.

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, the doctor said.  He said it just ...
happens sometimes.  Nobody knows why for sure."  She sounded almost
clinical now, but Cullen could feel her nails digging into his hands
where she held him.

"Did the doctor say it was something you'd done?"

"No.  But I knew it was.  And Mark knew it, too.  " Babies don't just
die,"

he said."

"But didn't the doctor say that that was exactly what did happen
sometimes?"

he asked gently.

"Then why don't you believe him?  Because Mark said it was your
fault?"

"There had to have been some reason," she said fiercely.

"Do you think the doctor was lying to you?"  "N-no," she admitted
hesitantly.

"Is this why you don't want anything to do with Angie?"  Her hands
jerked convulsively in his, but he refused to release them, just as he
refused to let her look away from him.

"Is it?"

"Yes?"  The word exploded from her.

"What if it happens again?  What if it was something I did?  And even
if it wasn't, what if something else happened?  I couldn't go through
that again.

I couldn't."

She began to cry, not the silent tears she'd shed before but deep,
gut-wrenching tears.  Cleansing tears.  Or at least, that's what Cullen
hoped.  Standing, he scooped her into his arms and settled down with
his back against the headboard and Darcy cradled in his lap.

He let her cry, holding her and murmuring softly to her but not trying
to stem the flood of tears.  When they'd finally subsided into
hiccuping sobs, he handed her a fistful of tissues and waited until
she'd mopped her eyes and blown her nose.

"What happened to Aaron wasn't your fault."  "You don't know that,"

she muttered thickly.  "Yes, I do.  The doctor told you it wasn't your
fault.

If Mark said differently, he was speaking out of pain."  It took a
considerable effort to speak calmly about her ex-husband when what he
really wanted to do was demand his address so he could go and beat him
to a pulp.

"Sometimes things happen and there's no reason for them.  That doesn't
mean you stop living."

"What if it happened again?"  She sounded like a child, afraid of the
dark.

"Are you sorry you had Aaron?  Do you wish he'd never been born?"

"No!  He was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me."

"But you could have saved yourself a lot of pain by not having him,"

he pointed out.

"But I'd have missed out on so much."  Her voice trailed off as the
shock of her own words went through her.

"I'd have missed out on so much," she whispered again.

"If you try to protect yourself completely, you're not living," he said
quietly.

"I don't think I could bear it if it happened again," she said, and
they both knew she was talking about Angie.

"It won't.  But if something, God forbid, were to happen to her, we'd
get through it.  Together."

Together.  When he held her like this, it was possible to believe that
they could get through anything together.  She closed her eyes and
pressed her face closer against the bare skin of his chest.  She felt
Cullen shifting but she didn't open her eyes until she felt him lift
the hand that lay against his chest.

"Will you wear this?"  The ring looked small in his hand, a fragile
circle signifying commitment and promise.

"We don't have to get married right away.  You can take as long as you
want to think about it.  And if... if you really feel you have to move
out, I'll help you."  She could hear how much the words cost him.

"But as long as you're wearing this, I'll know that you're still
mine."

For answer, Darcy spread her fingers so that he could slip the ring in
place.

She knew it was her imagination, but it seemed as if the sparkle was
back.

Hope and promise in rainbow sparks.  They lay there without speaking,
savoring the feeling of being together--really together this time.

A muffled thud from the living room broke the quiet moment.

"I

suppose I should go rescue Kiel from Angie," Cullen said.

"He looked as if I'd handed him a live bomb."

Darcy followed him from the room, smoothing her tangled hair back.  It
must be obvious that she'd been crying but Kiel was a good friend.

And she wasn't quite ready to let Cullen out of her sight.  When he was
with her, she believed in the future he saw so clearly, but she wasn't
sure the magic would linger away from him.

The look of gratitude on Kiel's face when he saw them was comical.

His dark hair looked as if it had been combed with a hand mixer and
there was a wildness in his eyes, as if his sanity was starting to
crack.  He was on his hands and knees behind the arm of the sofa and
Darcy assumed he'd been playing peekaboo with Angie.

"She never stops moving," he said, climbing to his feet as Cullen bent
to scoop Angie off the sofa.

"And she can just about outrun me."

"She can't even crawl decently, yet," Cullen said, giving his partner
an unsympathetic look.

"She's still fast," Kiel said darkly.  He glanced from Cullen to
Darcy.

"You two work things out?"

She held up her left hand by way of answer and he broke into a grin.

"I take it you don't need any help moving?"

She caught Cullen's questioning look and shook her head.  She wasn't
moving out.  He was right, a life without taking chances was no life at
all.

Drawing a deep breath, she came forward and held out her arms.

"let me hold her, please."  With a look that combined both pleased
surprise and concern, Cullen handed Angie over to her.

Darcy cuddled the baby against her heart.  It felt so right to be
holding her like this, to let herself feel the love she'd been trying
to keep locked in her heart all these weeks.

"Do you think she's.  old enough to be a flower girl?"  she asked,
lifting her head to look at Cullen, letting all her love shine in her
eyes.

"I think we could set a trend for flower girls in strollers," he.

said, his voice shaky with emotion.

He put his arm around her, pulling her against his side.  The shadows
were gone.  All that was left was love.

loves books, old movies, her husband and her cat, not necessarily in
that order.  She's a sucker for a happy ending, and her writing has
given her an outlet for her imagination.  Dallas hopes that readers
have half as much fun with her books as she does!  She has more hobbies
than the reis space to list them, but is currently working on a doll
collection.  Dallas loves to hear from her readers, and you can write
to her at P. O. Box 241, Verdugo City,

CA 91046.