Author: Tracie Peterson
Date: 1996-01-01 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Christian; Romance; General
Description: A Truly Yours Digital Edition. . . All men are just the same. And Christy Conners can give plenty of real-life examples! She's seen her own father betray her mother, and she's seen her own heart broken into little pieces. No, Christy has decided never to trust a man again. A former fashion model, Christy has decided love only exists in fairy tales, and for those who believe in fairy-tale endings. That's why she's pouring all her energy into creating the exclusive, one-of-a-kind wedding gowns that she will never wear. But when Curt Kyle enters Christy's clear-eyed world, her icy resolve begins
Publisher: Barbour
Rights: Copyright © 2008 by Tracie Peterson

Print ISBN 978-1-55748-927-2
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-926-5
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-927-2

WINGS LIKE EAGLES

Copyright © 2008 by Tracie Peterson. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Dedication

Author Bio

one

Christy Connors bolted upright in bed. She was drenched in a cold sweat that left her brown hair plastered to her skin as though she’d just stepped from the shower. Panting for breath, she noticed for the first time that it was light outside.

The elegant brocade draperies allowed only the smallest amount of sunlight to filter into the room, but it was enough. Settling her nerves, Christy realized the haunting scene, which had so startled her, was only a nightmare.

Candy! Her little sister, dubbed so because the name Camille seemed much too dramatic for the little squirt of a kid, was in trouble. At least she had been in Christy’s dream. She started to reach for the telephone to call Candy and assure herself that it had been nothing more than her wild imagination, but a quick glance at the clock stopped her. Candy needed her sleep now that she was nearly eight months pregnant. The little squirt of a kid was now nineteen, married, and expecting her first child.

Pushing back the covers along with her concern, Christy stretched her legs over the side of the bed. With a yawn that nearly sent her to seeking the comfort of her pillows again, she forced herself to get up.

The pink silk nightgown swirled gracefully around her long legs as Christy crossed the room to pull back the drapes and let in the day. At twenty-five, Christy had experienced more than many people twice her age. She’d modeled for several years, but found the constant race between New York, Paris, and a hundred other points of interest exhausting. When she’d announced her retirement at the mere age of twenty-one, the world had mourned the loss, and her agent still continued to harangue her to return to the spotlight. Christy satisfied her own interests, how-ever, and using the large sums of money she’d made modeling, she re-entered the public eye in an entirely different way.

For nearly four years, Christy Connors had been the proud owner and sole operator of Designs by Christy. Her business was one that catered to the very rich, and Christy was quite choosey about her clientele. Now that she had international recognition and fame for her one-of-a-kind, handcrafted wedding gowns, Christy Connors was rapidly becoming a wealthy woman.

After momentary consideration of the Rocky Mountains in the distant west, Christy’s next point of business was to seat herself at an eighteenth-century desk and study her appointment book. The entire world clamored to be part of her agenda. At least it felt that way at times.

Of course, it hadn’t always been so. When she was still a senior in high school, a man had spotted Christy in a local shopping mall and asked her if she’d ever thought of modeling. Christy thought the whole thing one of those put-on farces by men who were seeking to lure innocent young women into the dark confines of their vans. She told the man emphatically that she had no interest whatsoever in his proposition. Two days later he showed up with the governor of the state, and her mother had nearly fainted. Within an hour, Christy had an appointment for an interview and photo shoot in New York City.

Boarding a plane and leaving the Mile High City, Christy had been sure that she’d never return. She wasn’t leaving with any regrets. In fact, she was more or less running away from home. Only this kind of running had everyone’s blessing.

Modeling hadn’t been a dream job, however. Anyone who thought it a life of glamor had another thing coming. Glamor was the end result, but it certainly wasn’t the life that one led getting there. Christy hadn’t even graduated from college. There’d never been time to take more than a few classes in fashion design and marketing before some assignment sent her halfway around the world, disrupting her whole life.

She was up early each morning, working with a professional trainer who saw her through exercise routines and runway moves. Christy worked harder to learn the trade than anything she’d ever put herself into be-fore. It didn’t take long for the world to recognize her talent and de-mand the long-legged beauty grace the covers of their magazines. In one year alone, she had seventeen covers and over a dozen feature stories.

When she finally decided to put modeling behind her and go to school full-time, her agent had been livid. What did she need with an education, when she had a body that brought the world to a standstill? But Christy wasn’t naïve enough to believe it would last forever. A woman who depended on her looks to make a living raced against a clock that never slowed down. Wrinkles, weight gains or losses, sagging skin, and blemishes—it was all too much to pay attention to, and Christy tired of worshiping at the altar of her own face.

College was a new and exciting world and, while some people recognized her for her modeling work, most just thought she was a struggling student like everyone else. Christy was honestly happy. Happy, that is, until she made the mistake of falling in love. He was older and wiser, or at least that’s what Christy had thought. He was gentle and loving and everything she was looking for. Instead, she got another example of shallowness and infidelity. So Christy left school in order to isolate herself as far as she could from the man who’d broken her heart.

Since he was a professor with tenure at the university, she couldn’t very well expect him to leave.

Shaking her head to clear the past, Christy tried to focus her attention on the day’s appointments. She had two. One was set for 9:00 and would be the first fitting for Mariah DuBane, a wealthy debutante from Dallas. The second appointment was a first interview scheduled at lunchtime and would require that Christy serve more than her routine refreshments.

She made a note to call the caterer and finalize the delivery time for the luncheon. When Christy Connors chose clients, she did it in style. No one could ever complain that they weren’t addressed with the utmost respect and genteel refinement.

She scanned the appointment book for notes on the new couple: Curt Kyle and Debbie Bradford, June 28 wedding. Formal, after six. Bride desires an elaborate gown with imported Belgian lace. That was the end of her information, and Christy snapped the book shut.

Dropping her slip-styled nightgown from her shoulders, Christy walked into her white marble bathroom and turned on the shower. Another day, just like all the others, was about to begin.

An hour later, Christy descended the oak staircase, looking a masterpiece of perfection. Her shoulder-length, chocolate brown hair had been swept off her face and gathered with two gold clasps on either side. Her heart-shaped face had been carefully accentuated with a delicate blend of powders and shadows that made the most of Christy’s natural beauty. She knew she was a beautiful woman, but inside she felt empty and uncertain. Why, she wondered, was it never enough?

An older woman in a black-and-white uniform appeared at the foot of the stairs. “Good morning, Miss Connors.”

Christy nodded. “Morning, Aggie. Breakfast ready?”

Aggie laughed. “The same as usual. Your orange juice is on the table, and the coffee will follow as soon as you give the word.”

Christy moved through the front room and opened French doors onto a small, glassed-in balcony. “Oh, would you call the overnight people and check on the location of my delivery from France?”

“I’ll get to it after I serve your coffee,” the older woman replied and took her leave.

Christy smiled to herself. There was a refined, yet friendly relationship between the two women, and Christy knew she’d be lost without the helpful insight of Aggie. More than once Christy had sought the older woman’s advice, and more than once Aggie had offered it on her own. It was an amicable companionship.

The balcony resembled a small garden. The entire room had been designed to use year-round, with removable glass over screens. A magnificent view of the snowcapped peaks of the Rocky Mountains glistening against the sun greeted Christy. White wicker furniture graced the retreat and stood out in sharp contrast to the deep greens of house plants in their various colorful pots. It was Christy’s favorite room in the house.

After fussing over each plant as though it were a beloved child, Christy finally took a seat at the table and began to read the Denver Post. There was comfort for Christy in her routine. It seldom varied and always managed to give her a positive outlook on the day. Checking her watch, she downed the rest of the juice and finished the first section of the paper just as Aggie appeared and poured coffee.

The two women didn’t exchange a single word as Aggie went to make the required phone calls, and Christy turned her attention back to the newspaper. Twenty minutes later, Mariah DuBane arrived, and the fragile peace of the day was broken.

“Don’t tell me I’m a size six,” the bleach-blond screeched at Christy. “I’ve always worn a four, and I’ll always wear a four. I’m certainly not going to be swimming down the aisle to my wedding in a size six gown!”

Christy was used to debutante fits and merely crossed her arms against her cream-colored cashmere suit. “Ms. DuBane, perhaps you would like to go elsewhere to have your gown created. I’m a very busy woman, and I take my designs very seriously. I would not threaten my reputation with an ill-fitting gown. That goes for one which would be too tight, as well as one in which you might swim.”

The blond started to speak, then tightened her lips. “I suppose it’s just nerves,” Mariah finally offered, and the fitting continued.

After Mariah blew out of the house, Christy barely had enough time to receive the caterers and double-check the table. Casting a quick glance around, Christy found everything in order. The entire house was devoted to the charm and elegance of another era, and here was no exception. The dining room table was a delicate Queen Anne, with matching chairs upholstered in a dusty rose fabric. The walls were papered with a floral print of the same shade, with fine gold ribbons running the length of the print to set it off as though a hundred little borders lined the room. Original oak woodwork added the most dramatic touch, framing the room with its elaborate curlicues and scrolling.

Smoothing a slight wrinkle in the cream-colored, Irish linen tablecloth, Christy inspected the place settings of ruby red dinnerware before turning her attention to the food.

The door chime sounded, and Christy glanced down at her watch. At least they’re punctual, she thought, and grabbed her appointment book on the way to open the door.

“I’m Deborah Bradford,” an exotic-looking woman said. She put out her hand and flashed dark eyes in greeting.

Christy extended her hand. “I’m Christy Connors. Won’t you come in?” She stepped back to allow the young woman entry.

Christy could tell just by the way the woman moved that it would be a pleasure to work with her. She was exquisite, and Christy stole a mo-ment just to study her. Long black hair fell straight to the middle of Deborah’s back, and large dark eyes were framed by the blackest of lashes.

Christy concluded she was nearly the same height and size as Deborah, but there was something almost intimidating about the look of this woman.

Christy was so taken aback by Deborah’s beauty that she didn’t hear the man who had followed them into the house until he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“I’m Curt Kyle, just in case you wondered.”

Christy’s head snapped up in surprise and met the most incredible blue eyes she had ever seen. If Deborah’s beauty had stunned Christy, then the strange attraction she instantly felt for Curt was more than a little troubling.

“Christy Connors,” she managed to reply and extended her slender hand.

Curt Kyle reached out and took Christy’s slender fingers into his warm grip. It’s almost a caress, Christy thought, wishing she could find the strength to pull away.

“Glad to meet you. I guess you know why we’re here,” he said in such a nonchalant way that Christy was certain he was in no way affected as she had been.

Christy nodded. “I’ve arranged lunch for us,” she said, trying to steady her nerves. It is ridiculous, she thought, to act so childish. “If you’ll both come this way, we’ll eat and discuss your plans.”

“You have a beautiful home, Ms. Connors,” Deborah said as they made their way to the dining room. “I love the Victorian age, and I see you have decorated with many lovely pieces from that time.”

“Thank you,” Christy replied. “Miss Bradford, if you’ll sit here—”

“Please call me Debbie,” the woman interrupted. “I’d be much more at ease if you would.”

Christy smiled. “Certainly.” She waited for Curt to seat his fiancée before leading him to the seat opposite Debbie. She started to seat herself, only to suddenly find Curt assisting her into her chair. “Thank you, Mr. Kyle.”

“Curt,” he said with a grin.

Christy felt a tremor run through her as she stared deep into the man’s eyes. “Curt,” she whispered, almost afraid to use the name. Then, needing to break the spell, she glanced back to Debbie. “And you must both call me Christy.”

Chicken salad with grape and almond slices oozed out from be-tween fluffy croissants, forcing each person to slice their sandwich in half. Added to this were bowls of fruit salad and glasses of flavored mineral water and, of course, coffee. Christy wasn’t certain, but for herself, she deeply suspected that functioning without coffee would have been impossible.

Setting aside her fork, Christy opened her book to take a few notes. “I understand you have a passion for Belgian lace,” she began.

“Yes,” Debbie replied. “My family was stationed overseas when my father was in the air force. We visited Brugge and saw several old women hand-making the lace right on the walkways in front of the shops. That’s when I fell in love with it. It was incredible the way they took thread and bobbins and created masterpieces. I can’t imagine having a gown made with anything else.”

Christy nodded. “It will be extremely expensive to import.”

“Money’s no object,” Curt answered before Debbie could.

“I want her to have the best.”

Christy made the mistake of meeting his eyes. For a moment she was helpless to look away. Curt recognized the attraction, and though his lips remained noncommittal, his eyes lit with amusement. Finally composing herself, Christy nodded and made note of the Belgian lace even though she’d already noted it once before.

I can’t look at his eyes, she told herself. When I speak to him, I’ll look elsewhere, but not into his eyes. Feeling more composed, Christy continued the interview.

“I accept very few clients, as I’m sure you are aware. I hand-make only six gowns a year, and all of my gowns start at five thousand dollars. That amount is for the label and the quality that the name represents.

“I am quite choosey about whom I work with. There must be a bond of sorts, which may sound extremely ridiculous in this day and age of making a buck, but I’m not in this business for the money alone,” Christy stated firmly.

“What are you in the business for?” Curt asked.

Christy refused to look at him. “I want to create beautiful things. I want to give brides a glimpse of the fairy tale,” she replied. Then turning to Debbie, she asked. “What is your idea of the fairy tale?”

Debbie looked thoughtful for a moment. “I want an incredibly beautiful wedding. Like Curt said, money is not one of our limitations. I intend to have over twelve thousand dollars’ worth of flowers and six attendants. The reception alone will be catered to the tune of twenty thousand, and we’re inviting more than four hundred people.”

Christy nodded. The amounts were not that shocking. Most of the people she dealt with could afford weddings like that, or they certainly would not have come to her for the gown. Most of her gowns ended up costing close to fifteen thousand dollars, so only the very affluent could afford to seek her out.

“What about the gown itself? Have you a particular style in mind?” Christy asked.

Debbie smiled at Curt. “I want one of those romantic ballroom gowns.”

“Full skirt, basque waist, that sort of thing?” Christy questioned while writing.

“Yes,” Debbie said with a sigh in her voice. “I want it made of silk and Belgian lace. And I want lots of seed pearls and sequins. I want it to stand out as the most beautiful gown ever created.”

“For the most beautiful bride,” Curt said with a note of appreciation in his voice for his bride-to-be.

Christy had to take a deep breath to steady her nerves before she could continue. “What about the neckline and sleeves?”

“I’m not really sure,” Debbie said thoughtfully. “What would you suggest?”

Christy looked at the woman for a moment, then closed her eyes as if seeing the completed gown in her mind. “I think Juliet sleeves—poufed at the top with lace insets and fitted with lace to the wrist.”

“Yes, I like that idea,” Debbie replied.

“For the bodice, I would definitely suggest a sweetheart neckline. It will set off the basque waist and your natural assets,” Christy said, causing Curt to grin.

“She has many natural assets,” he couldn’t resist throwing in.

Christy ignored the playful tone and continued jotting down de-scriptions, with notes regarding the materials the bride wanted. Still refusing to look at Curt, Christy asked, “What about your groomsmen?”

Curt’s deep velvety voice answered—just as Christy had been afraid he would. “What do you suggest, Christy?” he questioned, forcing Christy to either acknowledge him or appear rude.

Slowly she lifted her face, and instead of meeting his eyes, she focused on his lips. Afterward, Christy would chide herself for the stupidity of this ingenious move.

“Have you a style of tuxedo picked out?” she responded in a deliberately slow, even manner.

Just then the phone rang, and the spell was broken. Christy quickly excused herself, picked up her portable phone, and moved to the balcony where she’d had breakfast.

“Designs By Christy,” she announced.

It was another of her clients, only this time the woman was nearly hysterical, and Christy was hard-pressed to understand her.

“You want to cancel the gown then?” Christy asked hesitantly.

The woman assured Christy from the other end of the line that she only wanted to postpone the gown’s completion. Christy grimaced. It was the second time Cheryl Fairchild had called to postpone her wedding plans.

“Miss Fairchild, I can postpone the gown for you one more time, but after that, I’m afraid we’ll have to discontinue the arrangement. I have other clients, and I can’t jeopardize their plans just because yours continue to change.”

Christy listened as Cheryl elaborated on her problems for a mo-ment and finally concluded by telling Christy that she would give her a five-thousand-dollar bonus for holding the completion until she was able to put her wedding plans back on track.

Christy finally agreed. After all, five thousand dollars to do nothing but wait was too much money to pass up, and Cheryl Fairchild could well afford it, given the fact that she had recently inherited quite a fortune.

Concluding the call, Christy found herself in a dilemma. Debbie and Curt would expect her decision when she returned. But how could she agree to take them on when Curt had such an effect on her? Still, she liked Debbie’s ideas and was already designing the most glorious gown in her mind. Finally Christy convinced herself that Curt wouldn’t be a part of the fittings and periodic visits and, therefore, shouldn’t even be a factor in her decision.

Returning to the dining room, Christy made her decision. She would demand a hefty down payment, and if that was agreeable, she would take the job. Otherwise, Debbie and Curt could find another designer.

“I’ve had a postponement,” Christy announced to Debbie and Curt. “Because of this, I will take you on as a client, but only if you are willing to pay half the cost up front, in cash. The lace alone will have to be special-ordered, and it may take some doing to locate the pattern you’ve described. Because of the lavish design, this gown will not be inexpensive, even by my standards.”

“That isn’t a problem, I assure you,” Debbie said with a note of excitement to her voice. “We didn’t bring cash with us, but we can drop it off later today, if that meets with your approval. Would ten thousand dollars be enough to start?”

Christy nearly paled at the casual way Debbie mentioned the amount. She was only going to ask for seven. Steadying herself, Christy nodded. “That will be fine.”

Christy had no sooner seen Debbie and Curt out when the phone rang again. It was so typical of her daily routine. Rushing to answer it, Christy was relieved to hear the voice of her brother on the other end.

“Erik, it’s good to hear from you,” Christy said.

“Christy,” he began, “there’s been an accident.”

“Candy?” she whispered. Her nightmare came back to haunt her.

“Yes. She was driving up from Colorado Springs on the interstate. Somehow, she lost control of the car and crashed. They flew her up here about an hour ago. I just now found out.”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s bad, Christy. She’s still in surgery.”

“What about the baby?”

“I don’t know,” Erik answered honestly. “They haven’t told me much of anything, but I think you’d better get over here.”

“I’m on my way.” Christy hung up the phone, still trembling from the shock. Without thought, she grabbed her purse and coat and went to the hospital.

two

Erik Connors met his sister in the emergency room and embraced her tightly. “They’re still working on her,” he whispered against her ear.

When Christy pulled away, there were tears in her eyes. “Won’t they tell you anything? For pity’s sake, Erik, you work here. Can’t you get one of your lab or physical therapy buddies to find out something?”

“I tried, but nobody has the time to talk to them. She’s not good; that much I know.” Erik’s words hung over them like a shroud. “She nearly died on the way here.”

Christy felt her knees buckle, but Erik quickly grabbed hold of her. “You’d better sit down,” he said and led her to a chair.

“Was anyone else involved?” Christy finally asked.

“No, the highway patrolman said it was a single-car accident. He said it was as though she blacked out or fell asleep and just lost control. There were no skid marks to show she’d applied the brakes or fought to regain control, so they’re pretty sure she was unconscious.”

“What about Grant?” Christy inquired. Candy’s husband was often conspicuously absent, and this time seemed to be no different.

“I couldn’t get hold of him,” Erik confessed. “I called the law office and their house. I tried everything I could think of, but he seems to be out of town or, at best, out of reach.”

“Nothing new about that.” Christy’s voice told her brother she had no lost love for her brother-in-law.

They waited in near silence for over five hours before the doctor summoned them to a private consultation room. Christy could tell by the look on his face that the news wouldn’t be good.

“I am Dr. Edwards,” the man stated brusquely when they entered the room. He still wore his bloodstained scrubs beneath the open surgical coat. Christy recoiled at the realization that the blood belonged to her sister. “Have you been able to reach her husband?” the doctor questioned. When Christy and Erik both shook their heads, he continued, “I’m sorry I can’t give you good news. Your sister is barely holding onto life at this point. She sustained massive cranial injuries, and that, along with the tumor, doesn’t give us much hope for her recovery.”

“Tumor?” Erik questioned. The look on Christy’s face revealed that she, too, had no idea of any tumor.

The doctor’s brows knitted together. “Your sister has a massive, inoperable brain tumor. I presumed you knew.”

“No,” Christy and Erik replied in unison.

“It is most likely the reason she lost consciousness while driving,” Dr. Edwards continued. “I was fortunate enough to reach her doctor in Colorado Springs. It seems she’s known about the condition for some time but refused treatment because of the baby. Of course, this type of cancer doesn’t have a very high rate of treatment success. I’m sure your sister weighed this all very carefully against the fact that she wanted to keep from harming the fetus.”

Christy could not have been more stunned. In one fell swoop, she had been told that not only was her sister barely alive, but even if she recovered from the accident, she would die from cancer.

“What about the baby?” Erik finally managed to ask as he reached out to tightly grip Christy’s hand.

“That’s the truly amazing thing, and possibly the only good news I can offer. The baby seems to be fine. We’ve had an obstetrical doctor and a pediatric specialist called in, and both conclude that everything looks good regarding the pregnancy.”

“How can that be?” Christy questioned.

“It’s hard to say,” the doctor replied. “She was wearing her seat belt—that seemed to protect her from being thrown around the car—but she had no air bag and her head hit the steering wheel repeatedly. As I said before, most of her injuries were cranial.”

“When can we see her?” Erik asked, taking the words from Christy’s mouth.

“Not very soon,” Dr. Edwards said with a gravity to his voice that moved Christy to tears. “She’ll be in intensive care when she leaves recovery, and I don’t want her to have visitors for at least twenty-four hours. If she makes it that long, we’ll take it from there.”

“But I want to see her!” Christy exclaimed. “If she’s going to die anyway, what can it hurt?”

The first real look of sympathy crossed the doctor’s face and then was gone. “I’m sorry, but your sister’s life and that of her baby are now in my hands, and I think it best that they remain undisturbed. I promise you that I’ll allow her visitors at the very first possible moment. Now, I have to get back to her.” With that, the doctor rose and left the room.

Erik and Christy sat motionless for several minutes. The news had so paralyzed them that they could hardly conceive what should be done next.

Christy glanced over to find Erik’s eyes closed in prayer. She wished she could pray, that she knew God like Erik did, but she didn’t.

It was finally decided that Christy would return home and con-tinue to try to locate Grant. Erik had the day off from his work as a laboratory medical technologist, or med tech as they were called, but agreed that he knew the hospital routine best and would stay on and keep Christy posted as to changes in Candy’s condition.

Christy tried in vain to locate Grant Burks. She hated him more than ever for not being around in Candy’s hour of need. Of course, she reminded herself, he never was there when Candy needed him. Prob-ably because he was busy with some other woman where no one could find him and point an accusing finger. Christy knew all about Grant’s other women.

She doubted he had ever been faithful to her sister, but might not have believed him such an evil creature if she had not witnessed his infidelity firsthand. She could still remember the night Grant had come on to her at a birthday party for Candy. His whiskey-laden breath had brushed against her ear as he whispered suggestive things to her while Candy sat across the table, smiling in a loving way.

No, Christy had no love for her brother-in-law. All she felt was a very deep contempt for the man who considered his marriage vows no more binding than the old familiar “check’s in the mail” adage.

Finally giving up on locating Grant, Christy took herself outside to her favorite place of repose. The ancient-looking porch swing was the place she often sought comfort and refuge. Positioned on the backside of the house on the three-quarter wraparound porch, Christy knew it was the only place she wanted to be.

The swing creaked and moaned as if in protest or greeting when Christy took her place. Leaning back in the old familiar arms of comfort, Christy let herself cry for the first time since hearing about Candy. The soft cries soon turned to pain-filled sobs, and Christy knew that she was hopelessly lost in her sorrow.

Burying her face in her hands and then bending over to sob against her knees, Christy blocked out the world and the cruelty she knew it capable of. There was no hope. There was no comfort.

Then, as if by magic, Christy felt strong, masculine arms surround her shoulders. The arms pulled her upward, and she started to recoil but had no strength with which to fight. Whoever he was, Christy needed him in the worst way. Rational thought left her mind as she clung to the man’s coat and drenched his chest with her tears.

His methodical stroking of her hair caused Christy’s pain to ebb. She cried more quietly, and then the tears stopped altogether, followed by several minutes of shuddering gasps as she worked to control her emotions.

The man still said nothing, and Christy was eternally grateful that he had maintained his silence. She knew she would be embarrassed when she learned his identity, but for now, she would take what she could to bolster her strength. When she finally stopped shaking, the man spoke.

“Want to tell me about it?” Curt Kyle’s rich, deep voice questioned.

Somehow, Christy was not all that surprised to recognize the voice. “My sister was in an accident this morning. She’s not going to make it,” Christy managed to whisper. She refused to give up her place of comfort against his chest, and Curt seemed in no hurry to be rid of her as he tightened his arms around her.

“I’m truly sorry. I know what it is to have a tragic accident claim someone you love.”

“You do?” Christy seemed surprised that they would share such a bond.

“Yes,” he replied. “I lost my parents in an airplane crash.

My little sister was nearly killed, as well. She was only sixteen at the time, and it was even harder on her.”

“How awful!” After a pause, Christy continued, “I can’t find my sister’s husband, and she’s expecting a baby in another month. She’s only nineteen. How can this be happening? She’s just a kid.” Christy knew she was rambling, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“My brother is at the hospital. He’s supposed to call me and let me know how she’s doing. I was supposed to come back here and find my brother-in-law, but true to form, he’s never around when she needs him.”

Curt heard the bitterness in Christy’s voice and wondered if her anger was directed only at this man or all men. He began to run his hand up and down her arm. Christy had forgotten to wear her coat, and the January cold permeated her skin. “You’re going to freeze,” Curt said, feeling her begin to tremble again. “Why don’t we go inside and talk?”

Christy reluctantly lifted her gaze. The eyes that had so hypnotized her held her fast. Her heart raced at such a pace that it nearly took her breath away.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you here?” she questioned, feeling her guard go up.

“I heard you crying, and you looked like you needed a friend. Do you need a friend, Christy?” he questioned so softly that she had to strain to pick up the words.

“I don’t need anyone,” she replied in what sounded more like a whimper than anything else.

“Spoken like a truly modern woman,” Curt said with a grin. “But, I’m unconvinced. Come inside, and I’ll make you coffee.”

“You’ll make me coffee? In my own house?” Christy questioned.

“Sure,” he answered and helped her to her feet. “Because

I’m a thoroughly modern man, and I’m not intimidated by modern women and their ways.”

Christy shook her head and backed away from the warm hands that still held tightly to hers. “You’re engaged to be married. Isn’t there any man in this world that recognizes the need for faithfulness?”

Curt surprised her by laughing. “Christy, I just suggested I’d make some coffee. I don’t believe that infringes on my fidelity to Debbie.”

Christy frowned. “I’m not talking about the coffee. I’m talking about the way you just held me. The way you touched me.”

“And how did I hold you?”

“I don’t know, it just seemed so…well,” Christy stammered for words.

“Yes?”

“It was intimate.” Yes, that was the word she was looking for. “It was too intimate.”

Curt sobered and his eyes narrowed slightly, giving him an almost passionate look. “Has no one ever offered to hold you when you were sad, Christy?”

Christy took another step back at the intensity of his stare. When she met the wall, she wanted to melt into the woodwork. “I don’t let people see me when I’m sad.”

“Never?”

“I don’t want the vulnerability,” she finally admitted. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I don’t usually act this way around strange men.”

“I’m not strange, Christy. In fact, I’m probably more normal than most of the men you’ve known in your life.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she countered. “I just meant that I don’t know you.”

“Would you like to?”

“There you go again. You’re about to be married. You should be concentrating your attentions on your fiancée.”

“So I can’t make new friends, just because I’m engaged?”

Christy sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, Curt.” Just saying his name caused her to tremble all the more.

“Come on,” he said, reaching out to pull her along. “You need to get warm.”

Christy refused to move, but Curt was undaunted. Without a word, he lifted her into his arms and laughed at the shocked expression on her face.

“You’re heavier than you look,” he said with amusement in his voice.

Christy’s mouth dropped open. “Put me down, right now.”

Curt shook his head. “You aren’t that heavy. I was just trying to rile you.”

“Put me down!”

“Nope.”

“Curt Kyle, I mean it.” She started to struggle, but Curt only tightened his grip and pulled her against him even closer.

“The sooner you learn one thing about me, the better off you’ll be,” Curt said in a completely serious tone.

“Oh? And just what would that one thing be?” Christy asked sarcastically.

“I’m very persistent, and I get what I want,” he said, managing to shift her weight just enough to open the front door.

Christy realized what a striking couple they made in the reflection of her vestibule mirror. Her makeup was tear-streaked and her eyes were hopelessly red, but that had nothing to do with the way they seemed to fit together. Almost as though they were designed with each other in mind.

Startled, Christy realized that Curt was watching her. He smiled a knowing smile and put her down. “Fix your face,” he said in a teasing way. “I’ll go make the coffee.”

three

Christy decided the only thing she could do was to wash off all of her makeup and start over. Her face was blotchy from crying, and her eyes were already puffy. After about thirty minutes of cold compresses, she traded the cashmere suit for comfortable jeans and an oversized sweater and went downstairs.

Curt was reclining in the front sitting room, with two cups of coffee steaming on a tray in front of him.

“You seem to have made yourself at home,” Christy said and took a seat opposite him on the blue-and-beige-striped, Federal-style sofa.

“You, too,” he said motioning to her change of clothes. “I thought for a minute I was going to have to come up and get you.”

Christy didn’t know why, but his remark made her laugh. “When you end up as much a wreck as I was, it takes a little time to even marginally repair the damage.”

“You weren’t a wreck, and there’s nothing marginal about you.”

Christy shifted uncomfortably and accepted the cup of coffee that Curt leaned forward to offer. “Thank you,” she replied, realizing as she did that it might sound like she was accepting his compliment. Quickly she added, “For the coffee.”

“No problem. You’re an extremely well-organized woman, I must say. Everything has a place, and everything is in its place.

Have you always been so efficient?” Curt asked curiously.

Christy thought she ought to be offended by the intimacy of his question, but she wasn’t. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so at ease with a complete stranger. So long as I don’t look into his eyes, she thought. If I can just avoid getting lost in his eyes, I’ll be fine.

Taking a sip of coffee, Christy finally answered him. “I started out that way as a child. When I was upset, I cleaned and organized. When I was hurt, I did the same. Anytime there was a major disappointment or the slightest bit of unrest in our home, you could find me picking up and putting away.”

“By the looks of your efficiency, I’d say that probably happened quite a bit.”

“It did,” Christy remembered with a frown. She took a long drink of the strong coffee and glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten. Why hadn’t Erik called?

Curt seemed to read her thoughts. “I’m sure you’ll hear something soon. In the meantime, why don’t we get to know each other better?”

“Better than what? Better than knowing what type of wedding gown you want for your wife? Better than knowing your measurements and the type of tuxedo you intend to be married in?” Christy’s voice dripped sarcasm, but she didn’t care.

Curt was unmoved by her sudden change of attitude. “Why don’t you tell me why you hate men so much?”

Christy’s mouth dropped open before she could mask her surprise. “I didn’t say I hated men.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s evident.”

“No, it’s not! I have a brother whom I love quite dearly,” Christy protested.

“So you love one man in your life. Why aren’t there any others?” Curt pressed for an answer.

“Because they were all jerks,” Christy replied dryly.

“Even your father?”

“Especially my father.”

“I’ll bet your mother didn’t feel that way,” Curt said, hoping to learn more about Christy’s childhood.

“She was a jerk, too,” Christy replied, surprising him. “They de-served each other.”

“Why do you say that?”

Christy stopped thinking about how terribly personal the conver-sation was and poured out her heart. “My father had one affair after another. We knew even as children that he had other women. I used to cry for my mother, thinking how terribly tragic it all was. Here was this steadfast, faithful woman, who stood by her man regardless of his affairs.”

“What happened to change your mind?” Curt ask softly.

Christy drained her cup and set it down unexpectedly hard. The cup rattled for several seconds before quieting. “I came home early from school one day and found her with someone else. She tried to explain to me then about open marriages.”

“What did you do?”

“Threw up,” Christy answered honestly. “It made me sick, and I couldn’t stand it.”

“You can’t very well judge all men by the actions of your father or even those who took advantage of your mother’s marital arrangements.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Christy said, not realizing that Curt was leading her where she didn’t want to go.

“There was someone in your life, someone you cared a great deal about,” Curt stated matter-of-factly. “He was unfaithful, too, is that it?”

Christy stared back, as though the complete shock of his words had silenced her.

“Is that what happened, Christy?”

Still, she stared in mute surprise.

“Well?” he pressed.

“Yes!” she answered angrily.

“I’ll bet there was more than just a little reorganizing and cleaning on that day. Tell me what happened.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Christy stated and crossed her arms protectively against her body.

“Let’s see,” Curt began; “he was probably older. Maybe even a great deal older.”

Christy’s eyes widened, telling him he was right. “How do you know?” she questioned.

“You were looking for a father figure. Your own father was a lousy example, so it would stand to reason that you’d look for another. How much older was he?”

“Fifteen years,” Christy replied, total dejection in her voice.

“And you were how old?”

With a heavy sigh, Christy answered him. “Twenty-one.” Before Curt could question her further, Christy openly volunteered the information. “He was a professor at the university I attended. I thought we were madly in love.” Her voice was so sad that Curt had to restrain himself from going to her. “He always told me that I mustn’t say a word about our relationship because he might lose his job for dating a student. I believed him—it all seemed so logical, even sensible. We went on like that for several months.”

“What happened?”

Christy laughed bitterly. “I went to a party that had been set up by the university to mingle faculty and students on behalf of a visiting international designer. I was excited about meeting this designer and never really gave any thought that he might be there.”

“But he was?” Curt questioned.

“Yes. Not only was he there, but so was his wife. Someone came up to me and said, ‘Oh, have you met the professor’s wife?’ and I suddenly found myself introduced to this frumpy, middle-aged woman with gray in her hair and about fifty excess pounds around her middle.”

“What happened then?”

“I wanted to hate her. I wanted to prove to myself that there was a reason why he’d been unfaithful to her, but I couldn’t. She gushed about how wonderful he was. The sincerity in her made me feel like a cheap bimbo. When he came into the room and saw us together, I knew from the look in his eyes that our relationship was nothing more than his lust and my naïveté.”

“What did you do?”

Christy shifted and pulled a pillow close. “I died.” The words were so simply stated that there was nothing to add, and Christy fell silent.

Curt waited for several moments before he asked, “And now you believe all men are incapable of fidelity?”

“I just don’t believe anything anymore,” she said softly.

“What about all this?” Curt questioned, waving his hand to encompass the room.

She knew what he meant. He wanted to know why she made wedding dresses—why she participated in planning other people’s weddings when she didn’t believe in it for herself.

Before she could answer, the telephone rang, causing her to jump. “Candy!” she exclaimed, realizing for the first time that Curt had kept her mind completely off her dying sister.

Jumping to her feet, Christy nearly ran to the phone.

“Hello?”

“Christy, it’s Erik.”

“How is she?”

“There’s no change,” Erik answered. “She’s holding her own, but just barely. Did you find Grant?”

“No,” Christy admitted. “I left a voice-mail message at the law office.”

“I guess we have no alternative but to wait until he tries to check in with Candy.”

“I guess not,” Christy responded tiredly.

“Look, it’s nearly midnight. You get some sleep, and I’ll let you know if anything happens. You can spell me tomorrow morning, okay?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, but I’ll try. I’ll see you about eight.”

“Good,” Erik replied and added, “Just remember, Christy. God can take care of everything.”

“Yeah, right. Bye, Erik.” She hung up the phone, shaking her head. “God can take care of everything.”

“What was that?” Curt questioned.

“Oh, just my brother’s blind convictions in an all-powerful, all-knowing God who watches tenderly over His children.” The skepticism in her voice was clear.

“You don’t believe in God?”

“Oh, I believe in God,” Christy replied. “I just don’t think He believes in me.”

Curt got up and crossed the room. “What about your sister?”

“No change. She’s still fighting just to stay alive.”

“At least that’s something. Some people lose that fight early on.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Christy snapped back.

Curt smiled. “I think you know. Look, I’m going home, but here’s my telephone number. I want you to call me if anything goes wrong or if you just need to talk.”

Christy would not take the paper, so Curt put it on the table by the phone.

“I mean it, Christy. I want to be your friend.”

Christy looked into Curt’s eyes, knowing that she had been reduced to the same quivering jelly as before. There was something so powerful about his eyes, however. Something so deep and meaningful that Christy wanted to look inside them. Wanted to know their depths—even plunge herself deep within them.

“Call me if you need to. And, Christy, no cleaning. At least not tonight,” he said with a grin and then was gone.

Curt made his way back to his apartment, completely mystified by the events of the evening. It wasn’t until he was unlocking the door and saw the blinking light of his answering machine that he remembered why he had gone to Christy’s in the first place. The deposit!

He patted his pocket and felt the thick bundle of bills. Pulling out the envelope, he put the money in the freezer under a three-pound chuck roast. Few thieves would think to look there, even if they could get past him to sack the place for valuables.

Seeing there was only one message, Curt rewound the tape and played it. It was Debbie. Suddenly he felt a twinge of guilt for not letting her know where he was. Glancing at the clock on the wall and seeing that it was nearly one, Curt decided to wait on calling Debbie back. Morning would be soon enough.

Stripping off his clothes, Curt crawled into bed with more than a little bit on his mind. Christy Connors was a complicated matter that commanded his attention. Stretching his arms up, he folded them be-hind his head and stared at the ceiling.

What was wrong with him? He knew better than to feel the things he was feeling. He had broken all the rules. All he could think about was the way she’d sobbed in his arms. No woman had ever spent herself like that in his presence. He had never seen anyone cry as though all the life was going out with each and every tear. Usually teary-eyed women made Curt want to run in the opposite direction, but this had been entirely different. Christy had needed him, and he’d responded in the only way he could. Did that make him wrong? With a sigh, Curt rolled over and punched the pillow down several times before closing his eyes.

four

The days that followed were torturous to Christy. She tore herself away from the hospital only when appointments or exhaustion forced her to go home.

Candy regained consciousness on the fifth day, but she was still in critical condition and barely able to communicate with the doctors. Christy had been allowed one visit every shift change, which constituted seeing her sister first thing in the morning and then again before she went home for the evening. During the time she sat in the intensive care waiting room, Christy sewed lace insets and did tedious pearl and sequin work on a variety of wedding dress pieces.

Other people in the waiting room were fascinated by her work, but Christy wouldn’t openly speak to anyone unless forced to do so. All she wanted to do was forget about her sister’s condition and forget about the blueness of Curt Kyle’s eyes.

Grant finally showed up on the sixth day. He seemed concerned about Candy’s condition, but not overly so. Christy was seething when he came bounding into the room as though just returning from the men’s room instead of a six-day absence during which no one could reach him.

“Where have you been?” she asked between clenched teeth.

Grant noted the interested audience around them and motioned Christy outside. Christy put her things down and followed Grant into the hall.

When they had moved far enough away to suit Grant’s purpose, he turned abruptly. “Where I’ve been isn’t any of your business. How’s Candy?”

“Like you care,” Christy replied sarcastically. “She’s nearly died more than once, and she’s barely conscious now.”

“Has she said anything?” Grant asked in a rather nervous way that made Christy suspicious.

“No, not of importance. She hasn’t asked for you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Where’s she at now?” Grant questioned, glancing back down the hall where double-glass doors had the words Intensive Care written in big blue letters.

“She’s in there,” Christy nodded to the doors.

“I’ll bet that’s costing a pretty penny,” Grant replied offhandedly.

Christy doubled her fist and brought it up as if to strike the smug expression off his face. Realizing what she was about to do, she quickly lowered it and stepped forward instead. Getting nose to nose with the man her sister had married, she barely whispered.

“It can cost you everything you’ve saved, for all I care. She’s dying, or didn’t she tell you that, either?”

“What do you mean?”

“She has cancer. An inoperable brain tumor that’s eating up the living parts of her mind. The doctor said that even without the crash, she’d be dead in six months. So if you expect me to care about the cost of her hospital stay, you’re a bigger fool than even I gave you credit for being.”

Grant finally looked shaken. “She’s dying?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Christy nearly screeched in his face.

Grant made the mistake of putting his hands on her to calm her down. Christy went wild and gave a full swing with an open hand against his face that nearly sent him reeling back into the wall.

An expression of complete shock covering his face, Grant shook his head. “We haven’t got insurance, Christy. No health insurance and no savings. I can’t pay these hospital bills, and once they find out, then what? Mortgage the house? It already has two.”

Christy silently tried to collect her thoughts and reason out what Grant was saying. She had been so surprised at her reaction that it took all of her reserves to calm her racing heart. “I’ll pay her bill,” she finally answered.

Grant smiled. “That’s good of you, Sis.”

Christy’s eyes narrowed until they were angry slits of smokey blue. “You sicken me. You don’t care about her at all. Your only concern is who’s going to pay what. Well, I say good riddance. Why don’t you divorce her while you’re at it? Yes, I’ll pay her bills and the baby’s, too, if necessary.”

“The baby? You mean she didn’t lose it?” Grant questioned suddenly.

“No. By some miracle, the baby is just fine. The doctor said that if Candy can just hang on long enough, they’ll deliver the baby before she dies.”

“If Candy dies, I want nothing to do with the baby,” Grant said matter-of-factly. “I can’t raise a child by myself.”

Christy was strangely calm. She looked at the man as if seeing him for the first time. “I can’t believe you said that.”

Grant shrugged his shoulders and straightened his suit jacket. “I’m just being honest, Christy. I’m not cut out for fatherhood. I never wanted to be a father. I was only humoring Candy.”

“That’s your own flesh and blood that my sister is dying in order to bear. She could have had radiation treatment or chemotherapy for the cancer, but she wouldn’t because she didn’t want to hurt the baby. Now you have the audacity to tell me the child means nothing to you?”

“I don’t want to become attached,” Grant replied. “I can’t raise a child alone.”

Christy could stand no more. She walked quietly back to the intensive care waiting room, gathered her things, and walked past Grant without a word.

All the way home, Christy felt an overwhelming urge to cry. She allowed herself a brief outpouring when the traffic light kept her waiting an unseemly amount of time and was still sniffling back her tears when she pulled onto her street. Slowly maneuvering the car into the driveway, Christy parked and shut off the engine.

She leaned back against the headrest for a moment, wiped her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she reached for the door, she noticed the other car in her drive. Quickly, she racked her brain for some overlooked appointment, but when nothing came to mind, she got out of the car.

Glancing around the winter-dead lawn, Christy couldn’t find a trace of another living soul. She didn’t recognize the little red sports car as belonging to any of her friends or clients. Making her way around back, Christy nearly screamed in fright when Curt Kyle popped around the corner with a package in hand.

“I wondered if I was going to have to leave this on the porch,” he said innocently.

“What are you doing back here?” Christy asked rather coldly.

“I was hoping to find someplace to put this package inside the house. You know, an open window or door. You locked up real tight though, and I was just about to give up. How’s your sister?”

“About the same. She is conscious, though. What are you doing here? Why are you carrying that around?” she questioned, motioning to the package. “You could have left it on the porch.”

“I guess I could have,” Curt admitted. “But I planned to stick around and talk to you, so I figured I’d just look after it as well.”

Christy remained aloof, but motioned Curt to the back door. “Very well,” she managed to say in an even tone, “bring it inside.”

Curt followed her into the house and waited for her to instruct him as to where she wanted the package.

“Just put it anywhere. It doesn’t matter,” she said, finally realizing that he was still holding the box.

Curt placed the box on the kitchen counter. “You look as though it’s been a rough day. Would you like to tell me about it?”

Christy wanted to say no, but in truth, she really did want to talk to someone about Grant’s cold indifference to his own child.

As if seeing her inner struggle to decide, Curt pressed the matter home. “Good friends listen to each other’s woes,” he said softly. “I’m just offering a listening ear.”

Christy seemed to heave a sigh of relief, as though Curt’s words made the decision for her. “All right. We can talk.”

“Have you eaten today?” Curt questioned.

Christy deposited her purse on the counter and began unbuttoning her coat. “No, not really. I haven’t been hungry.”

Curt came to her and held her coat for her as she removed it. “I’d be happy to fix you something,” he offered.

Christy turned back around and reclaimed her coat. “Is that your way of begging a meal?” she asked, forcing herself to sound lighthearted.

“I guess I could force myself to share a meal with you. That is, if you let me fix it.”

“I can cook, Mr. Kyle.”

Curt frowned. “Don’t call me that. We’re friends, remember?”

Christy nodded. “All right, friend, what’s your choice of eats?” She opened the refrigerator and leaned inside. “I have sliced roast beef, turkey, and chicken. I also have leftover potato salad from a luncheon I did yesterday.” Christy continued to name off several things and turned around, only to smack his chin hard with her head.

“Christy!” he exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

Christy shook her head as if to clear the fuzz. “I think so. I’m so sorry. That must have hurt you more than me.”

“Naw, I’ve always been hardheaded. Come sit down and let me take a look and make sure you aren’t hurt.” He led her to a chair and pushed her gently into it.

Running his hands through her hair, Curt examined her scalp for any wound. Christy forgot all about the pain, however, as his fingers kept methodically sweeping through the layers. His hand was warm against her, and Christy nearly came up off the chair when he touched her cheek.

“Looks like you’ll live,” he declared.

“Of course I’ll live,” she said, trying her best to be irritated with his concern. One upward glance was Christy’s undoing, however, when she met his eyes and felt her mouth go dry. “I, uh, I…” She couldn’t find the words. This has to stop, she lectured herself. This man is engaged to be married.

Curt smiled, ever so gently, and reached out to brush back a bit of brown hair from Christy’s forehead. “I see it’s knocked you speechless, so I’ll fix us a bite to eat. You get no choices. Go sit down and behave and answer my questions when I speak to you and come to the table like a good girl when I call.”

Christy stared after him completely flabbergasted. No one had ever thought to order her around in her own house, much less a client. But, she reminded herself, he’s more than a client. She opened her mouth to protest, but about that time, Curt shrugged out of his own coat, tossing it aside. Christy’s eyes fixed themselves to his broad back when he reached up to open the cupboards. Muscles strained against the blue material of his denim shirt, and Christy was helpless to look away.

The time slipped by, and soon Christy found herself sitting in front of her fireplace, lap blanket tucked around her wool slacks, and a tray of delicious-looking food on her lap. Curt busily stoked the fire as though they were husband and wife, enjoying the late afternoon alone.

“You’d better eat,” Curt said, taking a seat beside her. His own tray of goodies balanced precariously on one leg while he got comfortable.

Christy picked at the food, still not knowing what to think of this man. He barged into her life like nothing and no one she had ever known before.

“So what had you so upset when you came home? I know you were crying.”

Christy tried to sound nonchalant. “I had a run-in with my sister’s husband.”

“A run-in?”

Christy nodded. “We exchanged some rather heated words. Well, I guess I was the main one exchanging them. I also hit him.”

Curt nearly spewed out the coffee he was drinking. “You what?”

“I hit him,” she said with a “So what?” look to her face. “He was asking for it, and I couldn’t help myself. Look, I don’t expect you to understand.”

Curt laughed. “I didn’t say anything about not understanding. I just couldn’t imagine you, in all your prim and proper form, hitting anyone.”

Christy frowned. “I’m not usually given to violence.”

“So what did he do that made you hit him?”

“He touched me.”

“I guess I’d better make note of that one for future reference.”

Christy scowled. “He’s slime, and I wasn’t about to let him put his hands on me after what he’d just said.”

Curt’s expression softened. “What did he say, Christy?”

“He waltzed into the hospital after a six-day hiatus to who knows where, announced that he bet my sister’s care was costing a fortune, and then told me he wanted nothing to do with his own child when Candy dies.”

“What do you mean, he wants nothing to do with the baby?” Curt probed.

“He told me he couldn’t be a single father. He said he had never wanted to be a father in the first place, that he was just humoring my sister.” Christy put the tray on the coffee table and pulled the lap blanket around her as though it could offer her protection from Grant’s cold words of indifference.

“I’m sorry, Christy. That must have been a terrible thing to bear alone.”

She turned and looked at him. Really looked at him. He was incredibly handsome, at least to her way of thinking. His dark brown hair still held reddish glints from days in the sun, and his face bore a tanned, healthy look that Christy was certain hadn’t come from Denver living.

“Where are you from?” Christy suddenly asked. She composed her shaken nerves and forced herself to continue looking at him.

“I just moved here from Florida,” he replied casually.

“Why?”

“You look so healthy, so alive. I just couldn’t imagine that you’d gotten that way here.”

Curt’s eyes sparkled at the compliment. Christy’s seeming indifference and hostility were falling away in bits and pieces.

“Denver’s not so bad. It can be a really great place if you have the right person to share it with,” Curt offered softly.

Christy appraised the man and his words for only a moment before getting to her feet. “Debbie is a lucky woman,” she murmured and left the room.

five

The next evening, Curt thought of Christy’s words regarding Debbie’s good fortune all the way to his sister CJ’s house. The long drive to the north of Denver gave him plenty of time to remember every detail about Christy Connors. Why did she have to be so beautiful? Why did she have to haunt his every thought?

So she thinks Debbie is lucky, Curt thought smugly. If only he could tell Christy the truth and cut through the walls that separated them. Curt shook his head. There was too much at stake to blow his cover.

CJ Aldersson lived near the Tri-County Airport. Correction—she lived at the airport. The strip had been built to accommodate an unusual housing arrangement where wealthy pilots could taxi from the tarmac right up to their front doors. The houses were beautiful, with the snow-covered Rockies in the background. Curt pulled up to the house, checking the address against the one written on a piece of paper. This was it.

After parking the car, he made his way slowly up a fashionable cobblestone walkway. Before him, the three-story native-stone house rose up to greet him like a welcoming beacon. Lights shown from several of the windows, giving a warm glow of home. Curt stopped for just a moment in order to take it all in.

At the door, he hesitated. He had not seen his sister in nearly five years. It had been a long time since he’d deserted her, and now he felt guilty for the distance he’d placed between them. Of course they’d talked on the phone from time to time, but he knew he had sorely neglected her. CJ was all he had left in the world, and now she was married and living happily with a man he knew very little about.

Finally getting up his nerve, Curt pressed the bell and waited. A tall man with brown hair answered the door and gave Curt a good once-over before a smile broke across his face.

“You’re the spitting image of Doug O’Sullivan. I’d say that must make you his son, Curt, the long-lost brother my wife has been frantically searching to get in touch with.”

Curt smiled sheepishly. “That’d be me.”

The man extended his hand. “I’m Brad Aldersson. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Curt shook Brad’s hand and glanced past his shoulder toward the sound of a feminine voice.

“Who is it, honey?” The voice had to belong to his sister.

Curt put his finger to his lips and motioned Brad to let him surprise CJ. Brad nodded and quickly backed out of the way in order to let Curt pass.

“Brad?” the voice came louder as a redheaded woman appeared in the hall. “Curt!” she exclaimed with a squeal of excitement. “Curt, is it really you?”

She ran to her big brother’s open arms and held him as though she’d never let go. “I was so worried. I’ve tried to call you for days, but the operator said that your number had been disconnected. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? Are you hungry? Is anything wrong? Where are you staying?”

Curt started laughing so hard that CJ pulled away and stared at him for a moment with a quizzical look on her face.

“Maybe if you’d slow down and give the man time to answer one question at a time, you’d get more information,”

Brad suggested.

CJ laughed in spite of herself. “I’m sorry.”

“I expected an enthusiastic reception, but nothing like this,” Curt admitted. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”

“Not at all,” CJ replied. “We were just about to eat. You’ll stay and have supper with us, won’t you?”

“Sounds good to me,” Curt replied. Then with a mischievous grin over his shoulder, he asked Brad, “Can she cook?”

“She makes a mean pot of pilot coffee, but her curried beef tips could use some work. I’ve been helping her along, however, and she’s going to make a good wife someday,” Brad replied.

“I can cook, Curt. Just ignore this man. He thinks just because we’ve been married more than a month, he knows it all.”

“That’s not true,” Brad said in his own defense. Then, leaning over, he whispered to Curt, “I knew it all before the month was up.”

Curt put back his head and laughed, while CJ jabbed Brad in the ribs with her elbow. “Men!” she exclaimed and left them both to follow her to the kitchen.

Dinner passed much too quickly for Curt. He’d not been a part of a family for longer than he cared to remember. The last time he’d seen CJ, she had been recuperating from the accident that claimed their parents’ lives. She had certainly recovered from the sullen, moody child of sixteen who he’d run from in despair.

“Why don’t we have coffee in the living room?” CJ suggested as they got up from the table.

Curt took a seat on the couch and the smile suddenly left his face. How could he possibly say what he had come to say?

“You’ve come here with a purpose,” CJ said suddenly. Her statement stunned Curt.

“I guess there’s no use putting it off or pretending that you aren’t right.”

CJ smiled and took a seat beside him. “Go on,” she encouraged as Brad joined them.

Curt ran his hand back through his hair and eased back against the plush sofa. “I wanted to talk to you about the crash—about Mom and Dad.”

CJ swallowed hard. “Go on,” she repeated her words, this time less enthusiastically.

Curt watched as Brad lovingly rubbed CJ’s cheek with his fingers. He seems to adore her, Curt thought, and suddenly he felt better about what he had to do.

“What do you remember about the crash?” he asked.

CJ frowned. “I remember most everything, I guess. The way the plane rocked and then dropped from the sky. The feeling of falling forever. Daddy fighting the controls to land the plane and Mom praying.”

“Did Dad say anything?”

“Daddy told Mom, ‘He’s done us in.’” CJ trembled, and Brad put his hand on hers. “What’s this all about, Curt?”

“Do you remember the air show before the crash?” CJ and Curt had grown up as members of the O’Sullivan Flying Circus. Their father, along with his best friend, Ben Fairchild, had formed O&F Aviation and sponsored air shows all across the country.

“Of course,” CJ whispered. “We were all together. Even Ben was there. You left early to get back to school. Yes, I remember it all.”

“Dad called me,” Curt replied. “I had just gotten back, and the phone was ringing. I picked it up, and it was Dad. He must have been just about to fly out. He was pretty upset, CJ.”

“Why? What had happened?”

“He’d found cocaine in one of our planes.”

“You mean you’ve known all this time and said nothing?”

CJ’s voice was clearly upset.

“You were in no shape to learn that the crash was no accident. How could I tell you that Mom and Dad had most likely been murdered?”

“Murdered?” CJ sounded as though she might faint. “But all this time—all these years, you’ve never said anything. Murder?”

“I’m sorry. That’s why I came tonight,” Curt offered apologetically.

“So what do we do about it?”

“We don’t do anything. You have to stay out of it,” Curt replied. He put up his hand at the look that crossed his sister’s face. “Don’t get started; just listen. What I have to say isn’t going to come easy, and you must swear to keep it confidential. My life and the lives of other people depend on my ability to maintain my cover.”

“Your cover? What are you talking about?” CJ questioned, easing away just a bit from Brad.

Curt met Brad’s eyes before returning his gaze to his sister. “CJ, I know this is going to be difficult for you to accept, but I work with the Drug Enforcement Administration. The DEA. I’m here in Denver undercover to try and break a ring of drug dealers. I believe they are the people responsible for Mom and Dad’s deaths, and I believe whoever is in charge is someone inside O&F Aviation.”

CJ fell back against Brad in complete shock. The look on her face told Curt he’d expected too much. Her eyes were huge in surprise, and her mouth had dropped open to speak but remained unmoving, in mute dismay.

“Have you been at this very long?” Brad questioned when CJ seemed unable to collect her thoughts.

Curt nodded. “From the moment the plane crashed, I just knew it was related to what Dad had found. I figured someone wanted him quiet and that a plane crash was the best way to take him out. Unfor-tunately for them, but fortunately for me, they had no idea that Dad had told me about the drugs.”

“The FAA investigation had always seemed a little rushed, as far as I was concerned,” Brad commented. “It seemed strange for the accident of an international flying hero to be so quickly stamped ‘pilot error’ and moved over without so much as a single protest.”

“I couldn’t protest it then,” Curt admitted. “Although holding my peace was difficult. I knew I needed proof. Also,” Curt said, nodding toward his sister, “CJ was in no shape to take the controversy, and I couldn’t risk that whoever was responsible would think she knew something about the drugs and come after her.”

CJ shuddered from head to toe, and Brad wrapped his arms around her tightly as Curt reached out to pat her hand. “I’m so sorry, Sis. If I could have found an easier way to tell you, I would have.”

“I thought this was over with,” she whispered weakly.

“I know.” Curt wondered if he’d done the right thing.

“How can we help you?” Brad questioned. “What can we do to make your job easier?”

Curt frowned and dropped CJ’s hand. “I don’t know. Right now, I just need discretion and sound judgment. I could also use a few prayers,” Curt admitted.

“Of course, you’ll have that,” CJ said, seeming to recover from the shock. “Brad and I will pray continuously for you.”

“Good,” Curt replied. “That means all the world to me.” He glanced at his watch and saw the hour was getting late. “I’d better go, but I’ll be in touch.”

He got up, and CJ jumped to her feet and nearly flew at him. Throwing her arms around him, she let go of her tears. “Oh, Curt, please be careful.”

Curt wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her auburn hair. “I promise to be especially careful, just for you.”

“Honey, why don’t you go ahead upstairs and lie down. I’ll be right up after I show Curt out,” Brad said lovingly.

“But—” she started to protest, but nodded and left the room while Brad retrieved Curt’s coat and walked with him to the car.

“You looked like you had something else to say,” Brad said sternly.

“I guess I do,” Curt confessed. “Look, I’m worried about CJ. I don’t think anyone will be suspicious of what she knows or doesn’t know—not after all these years. Still, there’s always that chance. Keep your eyes open, Brad. Protect her, and don’t let her share this information with anyone.”

Brad nodded soberly. “I’m grateful for the warning. Don’t worry. I’ll keep her safe.”

“Thanks,” Curt said and reached out his hand to shake Brad’s. “I can keep my mind on business if I know she’s not in danger.”

six

W hat have you learned?” Debbie asked, while Curt tried hard to concentrate on the rush hour traffic.

“Not much,” he said. It had been several days since he’d seen Christy, and now he and Debbie were on their way to have Debbie measured for the wedding gown.

“How did Christy Connors seem?”

“Huh?”

Debbie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Where is your mind, Curt? I just asked you about Miss Connors. You know, the woman who’s at the center of this investigation?”

Curt glanced over at the attractive woman who was playing the role of his fiancée. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. “Christy’s sister Candy is still not responding very well. She’s in and out of consciousness, and Christy is totally devoted to her. It would seem that Grant Burks, Candy’s husband, is less than admirable in his commitment to his dying wife. Christy told me that he wants nothing to do with his baby, and that causes her a great deal of anxiety.”

“Sounds like she told you quite a bit,” Debbie said, her dark eyes sparkling in amusement. “Of course, a ladies’ man like you never has too much trouble getting women to talk.”

Curt looked over at her and grinned. “Like it’s ever gotten me anywhere with you.”

Debbie laughed. “If I weren’t engaged to Frank, you’d probably have your hands full.”

At this, Curt raised an eyebrow and gave her a look before turning his attention back to the road.

“Anyway,” Debbie continued, “Pricemeyer said that you used your own money to pay for the wedding gown. Why?”

“I don’t know; it just seemed better that way. Besides, won’t you need a dress to wear when you marry old Frank?”

“I have my dress, thank you, and what’s with this ‘old Frank’ stuff? ‘Old Frank’ is only three years your senior. That makes him…”

“Nearly thirty,” Curt filled in. “I’m about to turn twenty-seven, remember? Frank’s going to be thirty, and that’s old. At least in this business.”

Debbie nodded. “I know,” she said soberly.

From the window of the house, Christy watched Curt help Debbie from the car. Their heads were close together as he spoke. Probably terms of endearment, she thought. He’s probably telling her how this is the start of their beautiful wedding and how much he loves her. Christy was defeated before she could even begin.

Working to put her emotions back under control, Christy rechecked her carefully pinned hair and then her makeup. Aggie was greeting the couple at the door and showing them into the fitting room where Christy did most of her work. With one final deep breath, Christy tightened the silver concha belt that complemented her burgundy dress and went to greet her clients.

“Good morning,” she said, entering the fitting room.

Debbie smiled warmly. “Good morning, Christy. I’m so excited, I can hardly sit still. Curt had to get after me all the way over here, but I just can’t help it.”

Christy tried not to show how jealous she felt at the way Debbie chattered about Curt. “It’s always exciting to plan this part of your wedding,” Christy said in a rather reserved tone.

Curt came from behind Debbie and smiled, although Christy re-fused to look at him. “Debbie gets excited when the street department resurfaces the roads. Just ignore her.”

Christy smiled at his words. She knew he was trying to reduce her obvious discomfort. “We’d better get started. I have a 10:30 appointment after this. Curt, there’s coffee and pastries in the front room. You can entertain yourself there while I measure Debbie for the gown.”

“The front room?” he questioned innocently.

Without thinking, Christy started to reply, “It’s the room where we had…” She quickly fell silent. “Debbie, you undress, and I’ll show Curt where the food is.”

Debbie laughed, but the situation rekindled Christy’s nerves. All she’d been able to think about was Curt Kyle, and now that he was here with his bride-to-be, all Christy wanted to do was run away.

Curt followed Christy to the room he well remembered. “How’s Candy?” he asked when Christy finally stopped and turned.

Christy still wouldn’t look at him and snapped, “The same.”

“Then why are you so agitated? That Burks guy getting to you again?”

“No,” Christy replied nervously. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” She fidgeted with the concha belt, then turned to leave, but Curt reached out and stopped her.

“We’re friends, remember? You can talk to me.”

Curt’s words were low and soft—so alluring to a woman as lonely as Christy was. She pulled away with a shrug. “There’s nothing to talk about. She’s dying, and that’s all there is to it.” With that she went back to the fitting room and tried to forget Curt was just down the hall.

The fitting went well, and Christy found herself enjoying

Debbie’s company. “If you’ll go ahead and get dressed,” Christy told Debbie, “I’ll retrieve those swatches I promised to show you.” She pulled the door closed behind her to afford Debbie privacy and moved silently down the hall.

Her storeroom door was open, causing Christy to frown. Aggie must have forgotten to close the door earlier. Entering the room, Christy nearly jumped a foot when Curt popped out in front of her. She had no time to prepare herself, nor to prevent meeting his eyes with her own.

“Curt! What are you doing in here?” she questioned with her heart in her throat.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Why are you in here?” she asked sternly. Never mind that her heart was pounding like a triphammer. Never mind that his eyes were bluer than any she had ever seen before.

“I was looking for the bathroom,” Curt answered.

“Oh,” Christy replied. It was logical if she wanted it to be. And she did. “You missed it by a couple doors. It’s back that way,” she explained, gesturing to her right.

Curt moved his hand up her arm, and Christy felt her legs grow weak. “I really am sorry that I frightened you.”

Curt reached up and touched her cheek. His hand was like fire against her icy skin. Christy trembled, unable to take her eyes from his. I’m losing myself to him, she thought. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone in her entire life. Not even her stupid professor had aroused her emotions this way.

Closing her eyes, Christy felt like she had died and gone to heaven. Why does he have to belong to someone else?

Someone else! Debbie! The thoughts jolted her like a lightning strike. Jerking away, Christy’s temper flared, and her eyes flashed electrically.

“You’re just like every other man,” she said angrily. In her eyes there were newly formed tears. “Why can’t there be a faith- ful one among you?”

She turned to storm out of the room, forgetting all about the swatches, but Curt pulled her back. “I’m not your other men, Christy. I’m your friend, and I’m sorry you think otherwise. I just wanted to let you know I care.”

Christy tried to pull away, but Curt wouldn’t let her. “Save it,” she spat the words. “Save it for Debbie. She’s the one you’re supposed to love and care for.”

“Debbie understands that we’re friends,” Curt stated softly. “I think you’re just mad because I scared you and got lost in your storeroom.”

Christy finally managed to pull herself away from him. “Rot in here, for all I care,” she said and charged from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Curt and Debbie were halfway back to the office when she questioned him about Christy. “Did she seem upset that you were in the storeroom? Did she suspect anything?”

“No,” Curt replied gruffly.

Debbie eyed him for a moment before continuing. “Did you see anything? Anything out of the ordinary?”

“No.”

“Curt, are you all right? You haven’t said much of anything since we left. Did you have a fight with Christy?”

“Yes. No. Well, it’s difficult to explain what happened between us,” he admitted. “I don’t think she’s involved, Debbie.” He looked at her hard for a moment, before returning his eyes to the traffic around him. “I’ve spent enough time with her now that I’m sure I would have sensed it or something would have slipped into the conversation. I don’t think Christy Connors has a clue about what is happening with her shipments.”

“We can’t rule her out. She’s been under surveillance too long. You know the first rule of the game, Curt. ‘Never trust anyone.’”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Curt, this is serious stuff. This is an international drug operation that has been under observation for three years, and only God knows how long it existed before that. You can’t get involved with her.” The look Debbie gave him was a cross between sympathetic and worried.

“It’s a little late for that,” he said heavily.

“Rule number two, Curt.”

“I know, ‘Never get involved with a suspect.’”

Curt dropped Debbie off with the excuse of needing some time alone. He waved off her concern and promised he’d get himself together, but could he?

Driving down the one-way streets of downtown Denver, Curt wasn’t sure he could look at the case objectively. He had fought long and hard to find his parents’ killer. There were only a handful of people in the DEA who even knew what his primary motivation was. He kept to himself generally, but over the last year he had formed a bond with Debbie and Frank.

Hitting his fist against the steering wheel, Curt couldn’t believe the way he had allowed himself to get attached to Christy Connors. He’d been so careful over the years. He’d even alienated CJ. Of course, that was behind him now, but nevertheless, the facts were still the same.

It had been too easy to slip into a relationship with Christy. She was so needing of friendship and love that Curt had automatically taken advantage of it and jumped in with both feet. He kept telling himself in the beginning that it was the case, that with her trust, he could learn far more about her. But now—now he wasn’t just interested in the case. Now he wanted to know Christy for himself.

Debbie was right. He had broken the rules. He couldn’t trust just anyone, but he could trust himself and his instincts. Hadn’t they kept him alive through more than one sticky situation? A finely tuned instinct is the kind of thing that lets DEA agents make it to their thirtieth birthday, he thought to himself. Or at least to their twenty-seventh.

seven

As the week wore on, Christy tried to forget the scene with Curt. What she couldn’t forget, however, was the feeling of his hand against her face. Even while she made sketches of Debbie’s wedding gown, Christy kept losing her concentration. So lost was she in thoughts of Curt that Christy nearly jumped out of her skin when someone knocked on the front door. Knowing she had no morning appointments, Christy steadied her nerves and wondered if it might be Curt.

Opening the door, she was greatly disappointed to find Grant Burks filling her doorway. His dark black hair had been combed straight back, and with the dark sunglasses he wore, Christy thought he looked a bit sinister.

“What do you want?”

“I came to talk,” he said, pushing his way into the house. “You look wonderful in that dress, Christy. You really should wear tight-fitting clothes more often.”

“You have a wife, remember?” she asked snidely.

“Of course, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate beauty. You and I could have a very special relationship, Christy. No one would have to know, and no one would have to get hurt. Candy’s dying, after all,” he said, stepping toward her.

“What would you tell your mistress?” Christy suddenly snapped back. She obtained the effect she wanted when Grant paled and stopped moving. With a smug look of satisfaction, Christy crossed her arms. “Does Candy know about her? I imagine she’d like to.”

Grant shrugged. “I don’t think you’ll hurt her like that. She can either die peacefully or in grief. If you choose to abuse her with tall tales about my exploits, I can’t be bothered. But, please, don’t tell me how compassionate you are and how indifferent I am when you share the news with her. Don’t tell me how much you love her when you take away the only dream she’s ever known.”

“You’re a hideous excuse for a human being,” Christy said, unable to think of anything vile enough to call him.

Grant smiled in a slow leering way that made Christy’s skin crawl. He reached out his hand and touched her arm. “You really ought to be nicer to me.”

Christy couldn’t contain the shudder that rippled through her body. “Take your hands off me. I’m not going to tell Candy anything. I could never hurt her the way you have. Do you really imagine she’s that stupid? She may only be nineteen, but she was always an observant person, even as a child. My guess is that Candy already knows about your other woman, or women.”

Grant let his hand trail up Christy’s arm until it came to rest against the back of her neck and his body was nearly touching hers. “We could have a lot of fun together. You ought to think about it.”

“Get out of here,” Christy demanded. “Get out and leave me alone. If you never come to see Candy again, it will be fine by me.” Grant backed off, surprising Christy, who was fully ready to fight him for all she was worth.

“You let the hospital know today that you’re responsible for her bills,” Grant said, sliding his sunglasses back on. “I don’t want any more of their questions about how I intend to meet the cost of Candy’s hospital stay.”

“I’ll tell them; just leave her alone.”

“Don’t order me around, Christy. We need to work real close on this one,” Grant said with a smile. “Real close.” He opened the front door and walked out.

Christy slammed the door as hard as she could, hoping that it made her point clear. She was so shaken that she had to sit down for a mo-ment in order to regain her composure. Grant Burks frightened her in a way she couldn’t begin to express.

Curt was just pulling onto Christy’s street, when he saw the black Porsche pull out of the driveway. The driver didn’t so much as glance Curt’s way, and when he passed, Curt quickly made note of the tag number and wrote it down to check out later.

Parking the car, he made his way to the front door of Christy’s house and knocked. For several moments he waited, without even a sound being heard from the house to indicate someone was home. But Christy’s car was in the drive, and Curt was certain that she was inside. Knocking again, this time a little harder, Curt was almost ready to bust down the door when Christy opened it.

The look on her face was one he had not seen before, and if Curt hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she was frightened. The look vanished with recognition and was quickly replaced by anger.

“What do you want?”

“To apologize,” Curt replied honestly. “I upset you the other day, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. I even told Debbie about it.”

“I don’t care,” Christy said and started to close the door, but Curt put his hand firmly on the frame.

“I’m not going until we talk.”

Christy stepped back in exasperation. “Then come inside. I’m getting cold standing here.”

Curt needed no further invitation. He stepped into the house and closed the door behind him, then turned to follow Christy, who was already making her way to the sitting room he’d shared with her before.

“How’s your sister?” he asked.

“Weaker. The doctors want to give the baby as much time as they can, but the pregnancy is draining Candy of her strength.”

“If they take the baby now, will Candy pull through and live a while longer?” Curt asked, tossing his coat to one side.

Christy shook her head and walked to the fireplace mantel where a high school graduation picture of Candy sat. “I don’t think anything will help,” she whispered.

Curt watched her for several moments. She was far and away the most attractive woman he had ever seen, and the blue dress she wore showed off her shapely figure to perfection. Thinking of that, Curt re-membered something in his coat pocket. Pulling out a magazine, Curt held it up.

“I found this,” he said proudly.

Christy turned and saw the outdated fashion magazine. A glossy photograph of her in a black miniskirt and white and black polka-dot tank top stared back at her. Beside her in the picture were two Dalma-tians and a red fire hydrant.

“You must have looked very hard to find a relic like that,” she re-plied and took a seat on the sofa.

“Relic? If this thing weren’t dated, I would have thought it was just done. You haven’t aged a bit in six years.”

Christy winced. “Six years? Is that how old that thing is?”

Curt laughed and gave the magazine a toss to where Christy sat. “Look for yourself.”

Christy did, and it confirmed his statement. “I can’t believe it was that long ago. I was barely nineteen,” she said and then added sadly, “the same age Candy is now.”

Curt came to where she sat and, in spite of the frown she gave him, sat down beside her. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. I thought it pretty neat that I could find something like this and even better that I knew the gorgeous model on the front of a popular fashion magazine.”

Christy rolled her eyes. “Did Debbie like it?”

“Debbie?”

“Yes, you remember Debbie, don’t you? The woman you’re supposed to marry and all that wedding stuff?”

“Debbie thought you looked fantastic. She remembered your covers from before, while I didn’t have much experience with women’s fashion magazines. In fact, I probably had my head in the clouds, literally, when you were posing for those pictures.”

“I don’t understand.” Christy shifted to put a little more distance between herself and Curt. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m a pilot. I used to fly a lot,” Curt answered, realizing that he shouldn’t say too much. Hoping to change the direction of the conversation, Curt moved the subject back to his visit several days earlier. “Look, I really did come here to apologize. Somehow I gave you the wrong impression the other day, and I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“How gallant of you,” Christy murmured sarcastically.

“I try,” Curt replied, refusing to be insulted. “I can’t help it.”

“Huh?” Christy’s confusion was evident.

“When I’m around you, I just kind of forget myself. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Christy Connors. You aren’t mad at me anymore, are you?” Curt asked softly.

Christy sat stiffly, refusing to look at him. “I would never be mad at a client for getting lost in my house while looking for the bathroom.”

Curt realized her game. “What about when the client made the mistake of touching you? Would you be mad at him then?” He reached his hand out and turned her face to meet his.

Christy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m not mad,” she breathed the words.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“You. Me,” Christy managed to say. “This whole thing between us. It’s inappropriate. You’re a client, and to let you become anything more places my business at risk.”

Curt smiled. “You falling in love with me, Christy?”

Christy’s breath caught in her throat. Curt watched her closely, hardly daring to believe what he saw in her eyes. The realization that he may well have touched on the truth was just starting to register when the telephone rang. Christy jumped up so quickly that he could only stare after her in surprise.

“Hello?” Christy answered the phone rather breathlessly. “Yes, I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone and turned with a look of complete hopelessness to Curt.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” he said simply.

eight

The cold sterile hospital halls and the smell of antiseptic clean-liness made Christy nauseous. She hadn’t realized until this moment just how much she hated hospitals.

Curt had put his arm around her the minute they’d walked into the building and he hadn’t volunteered to remove it, even after riding the elevator up to the intensive care ward. Christy wasn’t inclined to ask him to remove it.

Erik greeted Christy and extended his hand to the man who so familiarly held his older sister. “I’m Erik Connors.”

“Curt Kyle. How’s Candy doing?” he asked, taking the question right out of Christy’s mouth.

“She’s asking for Christy,” Erik admitted. “I think you’d better go right in. Oh, and stop by the nurse’s desk. You have to wear a gown and mask now.”

“Why?” Christy questioned.

“Infection precautions,” Erik replied.

Christy nodded and reluctantly left the solace of Curt’s arms and passed through the double-glass doors into the intensive care area.

Christy was greeted by a slim, dark-haired nurse in surgical scrubs. “Here,” she said gently, “you’ll need to put these on over your street clothes. Your sister is so very weak, and in order to give the baby every advantage, we need to keep Candy from being exposed to possible bacterial and viral infections.”

Christy nodded and took the yellow gown, while the nurse pulled a pair of booties from a box and handed them to her also.

“These go over your shoes,” the nurse instructed. “And these,” she said, pulling a cap and mask from a drawer, “are to cover your hair and face.”

Christy donned the articles, feeling like she was about to go into surgery. The final item was a pair of thin, latex gloves. Pulling them on, Christy realized that she’d not even be allowed to touch her sister without this material between them.

Finally garbed in a manner that met with the nurse’s approval, Christy slid back the door to Candy’s room and entered as quietly as she could.

At first glance, Christy presumed Candy was sleeping. She glanced at the machines that lined both sides at the head of the bed. A heart monitor kept a visual and audible record of Candy’s weak heartbeat, while nasal tubes hummed with the rhythmic pulsing of precious oxygen and IV bags dripped bits of life-giving fluids into both of Candy’s arms. Toward the end of the bed was a machine that Christy had been told was a fetal monitor.

Reaching out, Christy put her hand on Candy’s. Her sister’s eyes instantly opened.

“It’s me, kid,” Christy said, trying to sound lighthearted. “I heard you wanted to talk with me.”

“Yeah,” Candy answered weakly. “We have to talk about the baby.”

Christy nodded. Behind the mask she frowned as she remembered how coldhearted Grant had been about his child.

“You have to save the baby, Christy. No matter what else happens, the baby has to live.”

“The doctors are doing everything they can,” Christy replied.

“Whatever it takes,” Candy said in a pleading voice. “I don’t matter in this anymore.”

“Of course you do,” Christy stated, almost alarmed. “I don’t want you to—”

“I know,” Candy said softly. “I don’t want to die, but there doesn’t appear to be much choice in the matter. Erik told me God has it all under control and that I don’t have to be afraid of what’s to come. You should talk to Erik, and he’ll help you understand what he’s told me.”

“Erik would have all the answers where God is concerned,” Christy said a bit more sarcastically than she had intended. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to take the baby,” Candy answered matter-of-factly. “When I die, I want you to raise my child. Will you do that for me, Christy? Will you be my baby’s mother?”

Christy felt tears come to her eyes—tears that she couldn’t hide from Candy. “I’ll do whatever I can,” she whispered, but just then an image of Grant’s face came to mind. “But what about your husband?” Christy asked.

“Grant can’t take this baby. He doesn’t know the first thing about being a father, and he doesn’t deserve to be a father after all he’s done.”

“What do you mean?” Christy questioned, trying to sound unaware of Grant’s exploits.

“Grant can’t be trusted,” Candy answered simply. Her weak voice reminded Christy of when they’d been children. “He’s no good, Christy. He mustn’t be allowed to take the baby.” Candy gripped Christy’s hand tightly. “He can’t!”

“Relax, Candy. You shouldn’t excite yourself. I’ll do whatever I can to see that the baby is protected, but please try to hang on, Candy. Maybe the doctors can do something for you after the baby is born. Maybe chemo or radiation.”

“No,” Candy whispered, weaker than ever. “There’s no course of action. I made that choice a long time ago. The doctor told me there would be no turning back.”

Hot tears fell against Christy’s mask. “No possibilities?” she questioned, her own voice sounding like a child’s.

“No,” Candy said with a knowing look. “Christy, please don’t hate me for my choice. I wanted this baby more than I wanted to live without it. I knew there’d never be another one because Grant… Well, never mind. This baby is very important to me, and I know I can trust you to raise it the way I would have.”

Christy patted her sister’s hand, hating the latex gloves that separated them from one another.

Candy offered her a brief smile. “I’m going to rest now,” she murmured.

“Yes, you rest. I won’t be far.” Christy gently brushed back a bit of Candy’s hair from her bruised and battered face.

Leaving the room, Christy kept thinking about Grant and how he had acted about the baby. If Candy’s wishes were going to be adhered to, Christy knew she would need some legal standing to accomplish it. A will! Whatever else happened, she needed to get a lawyer to the hospital right away in order to draw up a will for Candy.

Leaving her isolation gown in the trash receptacle, Christy was still deep in thought as she came from intensive care. She would have to find a lawyer, get the papers drawn up, and get Candy to sign, not only before she died, but before the tumor rendered her permanently unconscious. How much time did she have? Where would she find a trustworthy lawyer?

Christy entered the waiting room to find that Curt was alone. “Where’s Erik?”

“He had to report to work. Are you doing okay?” Curt asked.

“Do you know the name of a good lawyer?” Then without waiting for him to answer, she shook her head. “Of course you don’t. You just moved here.”

Curt folded his hands in his lap. “My sister lives here. She and her husband are in business and know a lot of people. I’d trust her to know an honest lawyer. Why do you ask?”

“I need to get a lawyer to come to the hospital and work with Candy. She needs a will.”

Curt nodded. “I’ll call my sister.” He reached across and took hold of her hand. “That is, if you want me to.”

Christy’s heart pounded so hard that she was sure Curt could hear it. She choked out acceptance of his offer and turned away to steady her nerves.

“I’ll be right back,” he said and let go of her hand.

Christy nodded but continued to look past him to the wall. He is an incredible man, Christy thought. He was good to her, beyond anything she could have ever expected from a friend, and that was what he kept reminding her they were. Friends.

“Just friends,” Christy said aloud as if to drive the point home to herself.

nine

Within twenty-four hours, Christy found herself sitting with Erik in a private hospital consultation room, across from a lawyer who introduced himself as Michael Kesler.

“My sister made the decision to forfeit her own life in order to give birth to her child. The baby means everything to Candy; perhaps it’s her way of living on after the cancer,” Christy said softly.

Michael Kesler nodded and made notes on a yellow legal pad. “What about the father?” he asked, tapping the pen against the paper.

Erik shook his head. “Most of the time he’s nowhere to be found.”

“Are they married?” Kesler asked.

“Of course!” Christy snapped, then relaxed, realizing that Kesler had no way of knowing. “Sorry,” she apologized. “They’ve been married about a year.”

Kesler wrote it down, then looked up at Christy rather apprehensively. “Your sister wants you to raise her child after she dies, but what about the father? The legalities involved in separating a biological child and father, especially in a situation where there is a legitimate marriage, are complicated, to say the least. The court always desires to keep children with their biological parents in any situation where it won’t be detrimental to the child. Have you discussed your sister’s desires with your brother-in-law?”

Christy glanced briefly at Erik before replying. “Grant told me he wants nothing to do with the baby if Candy dies. He told me that he never wanted to be a father in the first place. It is my impression that he would find the arrangement most agreeable.”

Kesler wrote the information down, but still sounded unconvinced. “What people say when they are facing the death of a loved one and what they do afterward are usually totally different. Once Mr. Burks actually loses his wife, he will probably feel differently. Right now, he might even be using this as a method to convince himself that she won’t die. Maybe in his mind he believes that if he tells her and everyone else that he doesn’t want the baby, she’ll have to live in order to care for their child.”

“I don’t think that’s a consideration of his,” Christy blurted out.

“Well, I’m going to see Mrs. Burks to confirm several points, and then I’ll prepare the papers. I should be able to have them ready by tomorrow morning, and if we can manage to locate Mr. Burks, I’ll confront him with the terms.”

Christy stood up as the lawyer did. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I know you’re doing this as a favor to your friends, but I just want you to know that I truly appreciate it.”

Michael Kesler smiled broadly. “I know you do. I just wish we could have met under better circumstances.” He sobered for a moment. “You must realize that this matter creates a very delicate legal situation. If your brother-in-law wants to fight this, there will be little chance of you winning.”

“I already imagined that to be the case,” Christy admitted.

Erik offered to walk Michael to Candy’s room, leaving Christy alone with her thoughts. Would the lawyer manage to put the will together in time? What would happen to the baby if Candy died before signing the papers? What if Grant refused to agree to the terms? Nervously, she paced to the window of the small room and stared out. All of Denver seemed to be going about its paces while her own world was falling apart.

“Did you get everything settled?” Curt’s words sounded with the warmth of his breath against her neck. Christy wished that she hadn’t pinned up her hair. She felt so vulnerable with his lips nearly against her ear.

Afraid to turn, she continued staring out the window. “The lawyer has gone in to see her. Erik took him.”

“Yes, I saw them,” Curt replied. “I hope he can help.”

Christy realized that she had not thanked Curt for his assistance in locating a lawyer and turned without thinking. They were only inches apart, and Christy couldn’t help but wish that Curt would hold her and make the awful things of the world disappear.

“Thank you, Curt,” she said in a barely audible whisper. “I really appreciate the way you…” She fell silent, losing herself in his eyes.

“I know,” Curt answered and started to say something more, but was interrupted by Erik’s voice.

“Curt, I’m sure I don’t have the right to ask, but I’d like it very much if you’d take Christy home. She’s been here since yesterday, and I know she could use a good hot meal and a night’s sleep.”

Curt turned to face Christy’s brother, who had just returned from Candy’s bedside. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Oh no you two don’t,” Christy protested. “I’m not going home.”

Curt and Erik raised their eyebrows in unison and turned to stare at Christy. Christy blushed at their response. “I don’t need to go home,” she stated firmly.

Curt looked at Erik, then back to Christy. “Erik, you can count on me. I’ll deliver her safe and sound.”

“Thanks, Curt. I owe you,” Erik replied as though Christy had never said a word. “Get some rest, Sis,” he said before turning to leave. “You look awful.”

“Thanks a lot, Erik. I appreciate your honesty,” Christy replied sarcastically. “But I’m staying. You can both go on without concerning yourselves about me. If I need to go home, I’ll drive myself.”

Curt put his hand gently on her arm and smiled in a way that told Christy she’d lost the fight. “Come on,” he said, “you have to ride with me. Remember? I brought you here yesterday, and you don’t have a car.”

The drive home nearly put Christy to sleep, but it also doubled her determination not to be pushed around by her brother and client. When Curt turned off the motor, she didn’t wait for him to come around and help her out. Instead, Christy reached inside her purse for her keys and quickly got out of the car.

“Now that I have a car of my own,” she said, “I’m going back to the hospital.”

She reached for the door handle on her car, but found her wrist encircled by Curt’s powerful grip. “You’re going to bed,” he said sternly. “You really do look like you could use some sleep.”

Christy’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but Curt just grinned. “Don’t worry, Princess,” he whispered, pulling her along, “you still wear the crown well.”

“What?” she questioned in confusion.

Curt laughed and reached out to take the keys from her. “Which one’s the house key?” he asked.

Christy pointed it out, then questioned him again. “What did you mean by that remark?”

“Just what I said. You run this place and your family like you’re some kind of queen on a throne. You’re used to getting your own way and having people do what you tell them. This time, someone told you something other than what you wanted to hear, and you feel slighted. You’ll get over it. I think it’s about time somebody took care of you.”

“And you think you’re that someone?” Christy questioned. “What about Debbie?”

“I think Debbie has enough to do without worrying about you,” Curt replied, completely putting the issue of Debbie aside.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Christy said in complete exasperation, “and you know it.”

Curt opened the door and waited for Christy to turn on the lights before speaking. “Sometimes I wonder if you even know what you mean.”

Christy stared at him for a moment. “I’m going back to the hospital as soon as you leave, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I kind of figured that would be your attitude. That’s why I’m not going to leave,” Curt replied and took off his coat.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said.”

“But you said that you weren’t leaving,” Christy said, watching him make himself at home.

“I’m not.” Curt faced her with a mischievous grin. “I’m staying the night.”

“Just like that?” Christy asked, standing with hands on her hips.

“Yup,” he replied and went in the direction of the kitchen.

“And what makes you think I won’t get in the car and leave as soon as you’re asleep?”

Curt held up the keys and gave them a little jingle as he kept walking toward the kitchen. Christy had no choice but to follow him.

“I have more keys.”

Curt turned. “Then I’ll disable your car, disconnect the phone, and bolt you in your bedroom.” His voice was serious, even though his eyes held a glint of amusement.

“You’re impossible!” she exclaimed in disgust at his now retreating form.

Christy stomped off to the foyer, removed her coat, and put it in the closet. She noticed Curt’s coat where he had draped it across her receiving table. After a moment of deliberation, she picked up the coat, causing the silver calling-card tray to rattle beneath it.

Reaching for a hanger, Christy paused and brought the coat to her face and inhaled deeply. The lingering scent of Curt’s cologne filled her senses.

“It’s just the cheap stuff,” he said from behind her.

Christy was mortified and felt her face grow hot. Without answering, she quickly put the coat on a hanger and placed it in the closet. When she turned around, Curt stood there, grinning. If it was possible, her face reddened even more.

“You really are impossible,” she half whispered, half moaned.

“Yeah, I am,” he conceded with a roguish laugh, “but you like me anyway.”

Christy rolled her eyes and pushed past him. “You can’t keep me here,” she stated firmly, her confidence returning. “You have to sleep sometime.”

“I’ll camp at the foot of your bed if you aren’t going to be cooperative,” Curt said.

Christy stopped in her tracks and turned. She eyed him for a min-ute, seeing that he was serious. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do,” he replied. “Your brother and I had a nice talk about you the other day. You know, while you were visiting Candy,” he reminded her. “Anyway, he’s very worried about you. Said you wouldn’t let anyone help you or care for you. He said there wasn’t anyone more stubborn in the world, and I told him he was wrong. I’m ten times as stubborn as you are.”

“So he turned me over to you as some kind of mountain to conquer? Did you have some kind of ceremony? You know, the passing of the torch? Or maybe it was more like transferring ownership of a car?”

Curt grinned. “However you want to see it.”

“I want to see you walking out that door and never coming back,” Christy lied, hoping that she sounded convincing. She didn’t.

Curt crossed his arms and kept smiling. “I don’t believe you. I think you like the fact that I’ve been helping you. I think you like being taken care of and are just too proud to admit it.”

“Aghhh,” Christy groaned and turned to climb the stairs. “There’s bedding in the closet by the bathroom—if you don’t get lost and end up in my storeroom again. I hope you get a stiff neck from the sofa because I’m not letting you have the privilege of any of my guest rooms.”

“Good night, Christy,” he called after her. “Sweet dreams.”

“Don’t forget to call Debbie,” she said sarcastically. “Let her know that you’re spending the night with another woman.”

“I’ll do that,” Curt said, without the effect Christy had hoped for.

Curt waited until he was certain Christy was asleep before he went to work. He cast a cautious glance up the stairs before making his way to the storeroom and flipping on the light. Once inside, he went to work checking the shipping crates, noting weights and markings and comparing them with bills of lading that were still in plastic pouches on the side.

Pulling out a notebook from his pocket, Curt quickly copied the in-formation down, with wary glances at the door from time to time. Feeling satisfied that he had the suspicious makings of something he could investigate, Curt turned off the light and went back to the couch. It was only after several hours of staring at the ceiling and seeing smokey blue eyes stare back that Curt finally faded off to sleep.

ten

Christy woke up feeling remarkably refreshed. Stretching out in a catlike manner, she forced a glance at the clock. She couldn’t even remember what day of the week it was.

Pulling on a white, lacy Victorian-style robe, Christy pushed her hair out of her eyes and made her way downstairs. No doubt Aggie will be amused to find me like this, Christy thought. She rarely ever came downstairs without her makeup, hair, and wardrobe in place.

Below, she could hear Aggie moving around the kitchen and raising such a clatter that Christy couldn’t imagine what was going on. When she stepped into the room, she wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her.

“What in the world?” she sputtered the question. She’d totally forgotten that Curt had camped out in her sitting room for the night.

“Do you always look this good in the morning?” Curt asked, putting down the frying pan he had been about to use.

“Why are you still here?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious about her attire. She clutched the robe nervously.

“I’m fixing breakfast.”

“Where’s Aggie? I have a woman who comes in during the morning. Where is she?” Christy questioned.

“I told her that her services weren’t needed this morning,” Curt replied, expecting the storm to come.

Christy moaned. “You didn’t tell her you’d spent the night, did you?”

Curt grinned. “Of course not. I told her I was helping out and fixing breakfast.”

“You had no right,” Christy said, coming across the room. “I’m in charge here, remember? This is my house. Aggie is my help, and I pay all the bills.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Christy looked at him curiously.

“I heard that you were paying your sister’s bill. What happened to her husband?”

“They’re broke, as far as I can tell. He never stays in his law office long enough to earn a living. I don’t mind paying for Candy, though I wish it weren’t quite so convenient and helpful to Grant. He doesn’t de-serve anything good.” Christy shuddered at the memory of him touching her.

Curt’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is Grant bothering you, Christy?”

“It isn’t anything I can’t take care of myself,” she tried to say in a reassuring voice.

After several minutes of awkward silence, Curt finally asked, “You want one egg or two?”

“I don’t want anything. I always have orange juice and coffee for breakfast and nothing else. I can get that by myself, so please just get your coat and go home.”

“My good-smelling coat?”

Christy rolled her eyes and turned to go back upstairs. Curt caught her around the waist before she made it much farther than the kitchen.

“You really are beautiful,” he whispered.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because, you know it isn’t right for you to say things like that to me. And this,” she said, motioning to the way he held her against him, “is definitely off limits. I need to get dressed.”

“You’re better covered up in this than in that blue number you were wearing the other day.” Christy’s mouth formed a silent O, and Curt smiled.

“Besides, you’re too skinny,” he said and released her.

“Once before you told me I was heavier than I looked.”

“Well, I can’t help that,” Curt grinned. “Maybe it was the heavy clothes. Now, answer my question. One egg or two?”

Christy sighed. “Can’t I win just one of these arguments?”

“Nope.”

She shook her head. “One egg.”

“How do you like it?”

“Over medium.”

“There,” Curt replied with a self-satisfied look on his face, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Go cook. I need to get dressed and put my makeup on.”

“Then I have plenty of time.” Curt chuckled and walked away. “Maybe I’ll even read the paper.”

“Why stop there? There’s a copy of War and Peace in the den.”

“Good idea,” he called over his shoulder.

When Christy returned to join Curt for breakfast, she was stylishly dressed in an attractive Armani wool-viscose suit. The classy number was not lost on Curt, who had some knowledge of fashion and the price tags that accompanied designer clothes.

“You look…” He paused, giving her a complete once-over.

“Yes?” Christy asked, hands on hips.

“Expensive.”

Christy laughed. “That’s good, because I am.”

Curt came around the table and pulled out a chair for her.

Christy shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t. I may have relented on breakfast, but I have a special place I like to start my day.” She picked up the juice he had poured for her and motioned him toward the en-closed balcony. “Right this way.”

Curt followed and nodded at the cozy sight that met his eyes. “I can see why you like it. I’ll just bring our food out here.” He left Christy to fuss over her plants and returned within a matter of seconds, balancing plates of food.

“You’ve cooked considerably more than eggs,” Christy said, noting bacon, hashbrowns, and toast.

“They looked lonely,” Curt said by way of excuse.

He could see that Christy was trying hard not to smile. She’s something else, Curt thought. Then he noticed again the way she was dressed. Sitting down on the white wicker settee, Christy looked all business and no play.

“You have someplace special you’re going today?” Curt questioned, trying to get a conversation going. Remembering his investigation, he wondered if this might break into something he should know about.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Christy offered nothing further, and Curt realized that short of coming out and asking, he wasn’t going to find out anything more. He was surprised when, after tasting the egg he’d fixed for her, she looked up and asked him, “What about you? What do you do with your days that allows you to buy an expensive wedding dress for a woman you apparently hardly ever spend time with?”

Curt tensed. How could he explain? He couldn’t very well tell her that he was part of a billion-dollar aviation industry. Nor could he admit he was with the DEA. All she knew about him was that he’d just moved here from Florida and he could fly a plane. Just as he prepared to lie and tell her that he flew commercially, the telephone rang.

“You sure get a lot of calls,” he mused.

“This is a business phone, you know,” Christy reminded him, reaching for the portable phone.

“Hello?” Christy grinned broadly at Curt. He could tell she was up to something. “Yes, Erik, I slept quite well and so did Mr. Kyle. Would you like to talk to him?”

Curt nearly spit out his coffee and Christy started to laugh. Curt waggled a finger at her and said, “You’d better tell him the truth.”

“No, Erik, Mr. Kyle slept on the couch,” she said and paused. “No, I suppose it wasn’t nice, but neither was saddling me with this babysitter.” The lightheartedness left her voice as Curt heard her ask, “How’s Candy?”

There was a long pause, and Curt watched Christy’s eyes fill with tears. “Yes, I understand,” she said weakly. She struggled with her emotions.

Without a word to Christy, Curt took the phone and talked to Erik. After assuring Christy’s brother that he would take care of her, Curt hung up the phone and went to sit beside her. She was crying softly into her hands, and Curt simply pulled her into his arms.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Christy clung to him like she had that night on her porch. How he wished he could bear her pain and somehow relieve her of losing someone she loved. He knew that pain very well. At times it still came back to haunt him. At times it felt like yesterday.

Christy lifted her face and opened her mouth, but Curt put his finger against her lips, then reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes with his handkerchief. This done, he leaned forward and without warning, pulled her forward as he pressed a kiss against her lips.

For a moment Curt felt her melt against him, then without warning she pushed him away and jumped to her feet.

“Get out of my house. You are just like all the rest. I thought there was something special about you, but you’re no different.” She stormed out of the room and would have run for the haven of her bedroom, but Curt stopped her.

“You’ve got me all wrong. I’m not like those other men. I believe in faithfulness, and I would never consider having an affair.”

“What do you call what just happened? Sure it was just a kiss, but what happens next?” Christy asked angrily.

“I guess that’s up to you,” Curt said softly.

“I won’t be the other woman in Debbie’s life,” Christy replied a bit sadly. “I’ve had to deal with too many ‘other women’ to become one myself. I just can’t do it, so don’t ask me to.”

“I’m not,” Curt assured her.

“You’re not?” Christy questioned. “Did I read too much into that kiss? Was that intended as a brotherly kiss of friendship? Did I just imagine your heart pounding like it was going to come out of your chest?”

Curt smiled slowly. “No,” he answered. “That was no friendship kiss.”

Christy nodded. “At least you’re being honest about that.” She turned to leave him, but Curt put out his hand and held her fast.

“I’m not going to marry Debbie,” he said, shocking himself almost as much as Christy.

“You’re what?”

“You heard me. I’m not going to marry Debbie. She’s got someone else,” Curt added, grateful that it was the truth.

“I’m sorry,” Christy said, knowing the heartache he must be feeling.

“You are?”

“It’s hard to lose someone you love and plan to spend the rest of your life with,” Christy replied. “At least that explains your actions.”

Curt pulled her with him to the sitting room. “Tell me what you mean,” he said, guiding her to a seat on the sofa.

“I just meant that what with your breakup being so fresh and Debbie having someone else, you couldn’t help yourself. You were lonely, I was hurting, and you kissed me. Just that simple.”

“Really?” Curt questioned with a raised brow. “Was that all it was for you?” He prayed that she wouldn’t say yes.

Christy blushed and turned her face. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I do,” Curt replied. “I didn’t kiss you because I couldn’t have Debbie. Yes, your pain might have prompted the start of the kiss, but it certainly had nothing to do with the end of it.” Christy started to get up, but he pulled her back down. “Talk to me, Christy. Tell me that kiss meant nothing to you.”

“I don’t want it to mean anything to me.”

“That’s not answering my question.”

Christy fidgeted with the button on her jacket. She realized there was no other way to deal with the situation than to just be honest. “It meant something,” she finally whispered.

Curt reached out and stilled her hand. “Tell me what it meant to you.”

“No,” Christy said, jerking her head up to meet his eyes. “I can’t. I don’t want to feel anything for you. Can’t you understand that? I’ve been hurt too many times. My father had his mistresses and was never there for me. My mother was content with her open marriage and lovers. The great love of my life was married to another woman. Even my sister’s husband has had one affair after another and tries to force himself on me whenever the notion takes him.” She put her hand to her mouth as if realizing that she should never have said anything.

Curt’s eyes blazed in anger. “I kind of figured it must be that way. But I assure you, it won’t be that way anymore.”

She put out a hand. “I don’t want to feel anything for you, Curt. I’ve seen too many relationships sour. I’ve seen the mockery people have made out of marriage. I can’t bear to become a part of that.”

“What do you mean, become a part? You are a part of it. You’re at the very center of it. You design the wedding dresses that women wear to begin their marriages. You’re at the very heart of the entire ‘mockery,’ as you put it.”

Christy shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’m a part of the fairy tale. I’m a part of the dream. I make beautiful wedding gowns that a woman will only wear once, maybe twice if she repeats her vows later in life. Maybe she’ll pass the dress down to her daughters. Whatever else, that gown represents the rose-colored glasses, the perfect picture. That gown is before the madness and the mundane. Before the broken promises.” Christy paused and got to her feet. This time Curt didn’t attempt to stop her.

“I make a dress as beautiful and as intricate as I can. I sew my own dreams and wishes into every gown and dare to hope that this might be the one couple who will truly love and cherish each other until death separates them.”

“But don’t you want that for yourself? Don’t you want to find that one person with whom you can make those dreams and wishes come true? Don’t you want the fairy tale, too?”

Christy turned and looked at Curt for a moment. She blinked back tears before answering. “I’m not Cinderella, and there is no glass slipper.”

eleven

Driving down the interstate, Curt tried to fight the memories that flooded his mind. Memories of Christy crying in his arms. She’d said she was no Cinderella, but to Curt she was that and so much more. Curt gave the car dashboard the fury of his fist. Why had he allowed himself to care about her? Determined to rectify the situation, Curt vowed to forget all about Christy Connors except as a suspect in a drug investigation.

“She doesn’t want me in her life, and I shouldn’t be except as a DEA investigator. I will not care about her anymore.”

His resolve lasted all of three minutes—then he suddenly remembered what she had said about her brother-in-law, Grant Burks. Grant was pressuring Christy, and Curt knew that boded trouble. She wouldn’t be able to keep him at bay forever, not if he was the determined type.

“Oh God,” he murmured, “I’ve made such a mess of this. Please keep Christy safe and let this whole thing be done with so that I can go to her on an equal footing and be open and honest with her.” But even as Curt said the words, he knew approaching Christy with the truth would be difficult. She’d been used before, and now she’d just see this as a bad rerun of the past. She wouldn’t understand that he had only lied to stay in line with his job.

Christy’s smokey blue eyes haunted him throughout the day, and even when Curt was at his desk looking over the infor- mation he had obtained about Christy’s shipments, he couldn’t help thinking about her.

“You aren’t even here, are you?” Debbie stated, not expecting an answer. “I’ve never seen you like this before, Curt. You’ve really gotten in over your head this time.”

“Stay out of it, Debbie,” he fairly growled. “I don’t need your advice.”

Debbie’s eyes registered hurt, then anger. “You need someone’s ad-vice, that’s for sure. Maybe Frank can talk some sense into you.”

“I don’t want to talk to Frank, either.”

“Well, you don’t get a choice,” Frank said from the doorway. “I want you in here. Now.”

Curt rolled his eyes, and Debbie backed away from the desk. “Thanks, partner,” he muttered under his breath before going into Frank’s office.

Curt pulled up a chair, knowing that the big man would give him a good lecturing. He deserved it, too, but what he didn’t want to hear about was the way he’d jeopardized the investigation, because he didn’t believe he had. Not yet, anyway.

Frank eyed Curt with cool, unemotional eyes for just a moment. His towering six-foot, six-inch frame seemed to take up the room. “We’ve been friends for a while now,” he began. “I like you, Curt, I really do. You’ve been a good friend to Deb and me, and you’ve made a good member of the team.”

“But?” Curt threw in before Frank could continue.

“But—and this is strictly between you and me, friend to friend—” Frank said, leaning down with both hands on his desk. “If you ever talk to Debbie that way again, I’ll see to it that you’re grounded to paperwork for the rest of your career.”

Curt knew the threat was idle, but he also appreciated Frank’s protectiveness of the woman he loved. Didn’t he feel that same way about Christy? The thought startled him so much that he never even heard what Frank said next. He’d fallen in love with Christy Connors. Why did it seem so surprising?

“You’re a million miles away from your job and that could mean your death or Debbie’s. I’m pulling you off the Connors’s investigation.”

“No!” Curt jumped to his feet. “You can’t!”

“Give me one good reason why I should keep you on.”

“I have Christy’s trust, so to speak. I can’t explain it to you. There are some things going on that I’m curious about and without me on the inside, you’ll spend months just working to get someone that close again.”

“What kind of things, Curt?”

“I’m not sure, but there are problems with her shipping invoices. You know about the New York shipments and the fact that 90 percent of her deliveries come from out of the country. She imports a great deal of the material and accessories that she uses in her designer line.”

“I know all of that. That doesn’t justify keeping you inside.” Frank stared hard at Curt, daring him to elaborate.

“I saw some of the cargo papers, as well as other shipments that have come directly to Christy at her home. There are real problems. The weights vary from those listed on the invoices and those on the crates and bills of lading. What few I could match up were off sometimes as much as one hundred pounds.”

“Why hasn’t she noticed this? One hundred pounds of material would be considerably higher in shipping charges. Doesn’t she ever com-pare the costs?”

“That’s just it. She isn’t charged for it,” Curt said sternly.

“The shipper is involved then?”

“I’d stake my career on it. I’d also guess that the whole thing is networked from start to finish. Christy always uses the same shipper, same import brokers, same ports of entry. It’s my belief that whoever is in charge has choreographed this thing from beginning to end. I don’t have all the pieces, and I certainly don’t have the names of who’s responsible, but I’d bet my life that Christy Connors isn’t one of them.”

“That’s the trouble with you, Curt. You’d bet your life in this situation, and it very well may cost you your life. Now you may be willing to risk that, but I’m not. Nor am I willing to risk your partner’s life. I love that woman, and I’ll protect her just the same way you’re protecting Christy.” Frank sat down and his face softened. “Look, I realize that you’re in love with this Connors woman, and that’s exactly why you can’t stay on the case.”

“I have to, Frank. Christy’s life is at stake, and she’s got deep problems in her family life that I believe may well be related to the case. She’s not going to let anyone else get close to her.” Curt wondered silently if she’d even let him remain close. Knowing he had to gamble his all, Curt continued. “There’s something else—something I haven’t even told Debbie.”

Frank eyed him suspiciously. “You’d better tell me, and don’t leave any details out.”

Curt nodded. “The shipper Christy uses is a subsidiary of O&F Aviation.”

Frank looked at him blankly for a moment. “Your company?”

“None other.”

“Do you know who’s running things?”

“Not a clue, but I will. That’s why I have to stay in this thing. It’s personal, now more than ever,” Curt said determinedly.

Frank stared at him for a moment. “All right. You can stay on it for now.”

“Thanks, Frank; you won’t be sorry.”

Curt pulled into the crowded driveway to his sister’s house. CJ and Brad were throwing a small get-together and had insisted that he join them. Reluctantly, Curt had agreed, but only because he wanted to speak with Brad.

“Curt, you made it. Come on in,” Brad said, opening the door. He ushered Curt into the house and took his coat. “Looks like it might snow again,” he said, hanging the coat in the closet.

“Yeah, I guess,” Curt answered, a bit preoccupied.

“Something wrong?” Brad asked.

“I don’t know. Can we talk privately?”

“Sure, come on upstairs.”

Brad led the way, managing to avoid the small gathering that mingled around his house. Curt followed, hands deep in his pockets, a frown on his face.

Brad opened the door to his private study. “We won’t be disturbed in here.”

Curt waited until the door was closed behind them before talking. “There may be a bigger threat to CJ than I’d originally thought. I can’t explain everything because the truth is, I don’t have the answers.”

Brad crossed his arms, worry clearly etched in his expression. “What should I do?”

“I don’t know. I can’t help but wonder if we shouldn’t get her out of here. I’m afraid of what I’m going to find, and when I find it, I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect those I love.” His words were intended for Christy as well as CJ.

“We haven’t been back from the honeymoon all that long, but I could suggest a trip related to the hotel business. CJ knows I want to expand. We could go scouting for property to build on.”

“That might be good. She wouldn’t be suspicious that way.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Brad laughed. “CJ would be suspicious no matter what. That’s just your sister’s way. We’re already in trouble for being up here alone. I haven’t a clue what excuse I’ll give her for this one.”

Curt smiled and nodded. “Some things never change.”

“Come on,” Brad said. “We’ll think of something.”

Curt never knew what excuse Brad used with CJ because the mo-ment they came downstairs, Curt’s eyes fell on the vivacious blond who stood at the end of the staircase. Blond curls bobbed back and forth while the woman chattered nonstop to a group of three other people.

Curt paused behind the woman for a moment, causing the man on her right to eye him intently. The group grew quiet, and the woman turned.

“Curt?”

“Hello, Cheryl,” Curt said with a smile. Cheryl Fairchild was even more beautiful now than when they’d been engaged over six years ago.

“CJ didn’t say anything about you being here,” she said softly. Step-ping forward a single step, Cheryl’s expression grew thoughtful. “You look fantastic.”

“You, too,” Curt grinned. He looked Cheryl over, appreciating the stylish red dress that showed off her figure. Cheryl had always dressed a bit on the flamboyant side.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she whispered. “When did you come to town?”

The man on Cheryl’s arm seemed to scowl, and Curt enjoyed his discomfort. Looking past her to the man, Curt’s smile broadened. Cheryl followed Curt’s gaze and realized she’d totally ignored everyone else.

“Curt, this is my fiancé, Stratton McFarland.”

Curt nodded to the dark-headed man and extended his hand. “So you’re the lucky man who ended up with this gorgeous lady.”

McFarland shook Curt’s hand and then took hold of Cheryl in a possessive way. There was something about the man that caused Curt to wonder if they’d met before. As if reading his mind, Cheryl spoke. “Stratton works for O&F Aviation corporate offices.”

“How nice,” Curt said, having passed the point of enjoying the man’s discomfort. “I guess that makes me your boss.” Curt immediately wished he’d not mentioned that little fact.

Stratton’s eyes narrowed, and Cheryl giggled nervously. “Curt is CJ’s brother.”

The other people moved away to mingle, leaving Cheryl and Stratton to chat with Curt. “Stratton, would you be a dear and get me a glass of mineral water?”

Stratton seemed annoyed that Cheryl obviously wanted to talk alone with Curt, but he said nothing and left the couple, grumbling under his breath.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Curt dryly observed.

“No, I don’t imagine he does. Curt, I’ve missed you. CJ tells me you’re hard to get in touch with these days. What are you up to?”

“Oh, little bits of this and that,” Curt said guardedly. “What does Stratton do for O&F?”

“He’s Daddy’s right-hand man. Daddy always figured on you having that job, so maybe Stratton’s a bit intimidated to know that you’re around.”

Just then Stratton returned. He thrust the drink into Cheryl’s hands and pulled her close. Curt smiled at the man, knowing it further irritated him.

“It was good to visit with you, Cheryl. I’m glad you and CJ are still close. We’ll have to get together and discuss old times.” At this, Stratton frowned, just as Curt knew he would.

On the way back to his apartment, Curt considered Cheryl’s words about her father and Stratton. Maybe it was time to make a visit to Ben Fairchild and feel him out for whatever information he might give. Maybe it was time to try on Doug O’Sullivan’s shoes and see if they fit yet.

twelve

Spurred on by the memory of rejecting Curt and thinking about her sister’s rising hospital bills, Christy threw herself into her wedding gown creations. She so thoroughly lost herself in work that before she realized it, she was nearly a month ahead of schedule on three different dresses.

The ringing phone tempted her to get an answering service, but knowing it to be a lifeline to the hospital, Christy couldn’t bring herself to do it. Just when things seemed to calm a bit, however, she picked up a call and heard the one voice she hoped never to talk to again.

“I understand you want custody of my baby,” Grant said without any other introduction.

“Candy wants me to raise the baby, and I told her I would. You’d already made it quite clear to me that you wanted no part of the child’s life, so I didn’t figure you cared.”

“I only care that I get my fair share out of the deal. After all, maybe fatherhood isn’t such a bad thing for me to consider.”

“What do you want, Grant?”

“Money, of course.”

“I’m already paying all the bills,” she replied weakly. “What else did you have in mind?”

“I need a great deal of money, and I intend for you to supply it.” Grant then named an outrageous figure that nearly made Christy drop the telephone. “And don’t tell me you can’t get it. I heard about the success of your spring line in Milan.”

“All right,” Christy replied. “So I get you the money. How do I know that you’ll give me legal custody of the baby?”

“When the money is in my hands, I’ll give you the signed papers. It’s that simple.”

“It’ll take me a little time to get the money,” Christy admitted. “But I’ll get it. You just make certain you hold up your end of the deal.”

“Don’t worry,” Grant replied before issuing her final instructions. “And, Christy, don’t mention this to Erik. The fewer people involved, the better.”

The call from Grant had been so unnerving that Christy couldn’t function in a normal manner for days. She tried to figure out how she was going to arrange everything, but her mind wouldn’t cooperate. She really wanted to talk to Curt about it. She needed his advice, but knew she wasn’t entitled to it.

Setting her mind to accomplish something more, Christy contemplated a room for the nursery. If things went as planned and she did bring the baby home to live with her, Christy wanted everything just right. She remembered little things Candy had said about planning her own nursery and jotted down notes to herself. She’d use as many of Candy’s ideas as possible and augment them with ideas of her own.

Working at the nursery sketch, Christy was startled by the sound of the doorbell. What if it was Grant? What if it was Curt?

The bell sounded again, and Christy felt her heart begin to pound. She both dreaded and hoped it would be Curt. Just please don’t be Grant, she prayed. Squeezing her eyes shut, Christy took a deep breath and pulled the door open. She flashed her eyes open quickly and prepared to do battle.

“Can we talk?” It was Curt, looking as warm and wonderfully appealing as he always did.

Christy drank in his tanned skin against the variegated brown wool cardigan he wore. Her eyes trailed down his jeans to his boots and back up to his face, where she met his amused grin.

“Finished with the inspection?”

Christy blushed crimson. “I just thought I recognized the sweater.” She hurried on to cover her obvious interest. “The designer, I mean.”

Curt nodded. “Of course.” His eyes still held their bemused twinkle, and Christy fervently wished she hadn’t been so obvious.

“So, may I come in?”

“No,” Christy said with as much fortitude as she could muster. “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other.”

“Well, that’s where we differ, Christy,” Curt said and took hold of her arm. “I think we have a great deal to say to one another.”

“Very well,” Christy said, knowing she was defeated. Curt once said he was a man used to getting what he wanted. Why should this time be any different?

“I was working in the den,” she said. “I have a pot of coffee back there. Do you want a cup?”

“Sounds good.”

He followed Christy into the fashionably stylish room. A home en-tertainment system lined one wall with the stereo softly playing Beetho-ven. Curt glanced down at the sketches on the drawing table that stood against the opposite wall.

“Are you switching to interior designs?” he asked casually.

Christy came to where he stood and held out a mug of coffee. “Just say what you came to say and then go.” She tried very hard to sound firm and unemotional.

Curt appeared unaffected by her words. “I don’t want things to be like this between us. I want to be friends again. In fact, I’d like to be more than friends.”

Christy moved back a step. “More than friends?” she whispered, knowing full well she shouldn’t continue the conversation.

Curt eyed her warmly. “Yes.” He put the coffee on the drafting table and stepped toward Christy.

Christy backed up again. “I don’t think so, Curt.” She hated herself for sounding almost breathless. Her heart pounded harder at each step he took toward her. “I think we need to just walk away from each other and not look back.” There, she thought, I said what needed to be said.

Curt just kept coming at her with a slow, deliberate pace that re-minded Christy of a wild animal stalking its prey. She kept backing up, realizing that soon she’d be against the wall and there’d be no place to go.

“I don’t want to walk away. I care about you, and I think we should give this a try. There’s no one else to stand in our way, so why not?”

Christy was mesmerized, her eyes fixed on his. His voice was soothing—almost hypnotic in its baritone whisper.

“I can’t. We can’t,” she barely mouthed the words. Her voice was shaky, and the color drained from her face as Curt backed her into the corner.

“Why not?” he persisted.

“I…I, uh,” she struggled to speak. Curt was just inches from her. “I just can’t.”

Curt leaned forward, but still did not touch her. “Why not?”

“I’m afraid,” she finally admitted.

“I haven’t given you any reason to be afraid of me.”

The scent of Curt’s cologne drifted up, and Christy lost herself in a moment of memories. Memories of Curt holding her. Memories of her smelling his coat in order to catch the sweet, musky scent. She shook her head and couldn’t speak.

“Christy, what are you afraid of?” Curt questioned and gently reached out to brush back a stray curl from her shoulder.

Christy began to tremble from her head to her toes, and her teeth chattered noticeably as she cowered in the corner.

“What are you afraid of?” he repeated.

Christy swallowed hard. “It would be easier to say what I’m not afraid of.” She tried to say the words with a bit of a laugh, but it sounded more like she might break into tears any minute.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

Christy started to say yes, but quickly realized it wasn’t true. She’d never felt more secure with anyone in her life. She looked at him for a moment, and her trembling stopped. Without thinking of the consequences, Christy reached her hand up to touch Curt’s cheek.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m not afraid of you, only of what you represent.”

Curt pulled her into his arms, and Christy didn’t resist. “I don’t represent what the others did, and I’ll tell you why.”

Christy felt her will collapse. “Why are you different?” she asked, hoping he would have a reason that she could believe in.

“I’m a Christian,” he whispered against her ear. “I believe in biblical values, moral purity, and the sanctity of marriage. I hold many things sacred, unlike a great many people in the world who believe there is nothing sacred in this life.”

Christy pulled away and looked at him. He didn’t seem like any of the religious freaks she’d met in the past. She’d have never pegged him for an all-in-all Bible thumper, but he sounded staunch in his convictions.

“I don’t know much about your beliefs,” Christy said, almost afraid to admit her ignorance. “Erik believes strongly in the power of God. Candy told me that Erik helped her to understand about eternity, but I don’t think I can cozy up to a

God who lets nineteen-year-old girls die while fighting to give birth to their own children.”

“You have to trust someone, sometime,” Curt said, leading her to the love seat in the middle of the room. Pulling her down with him, he held her close and began rocking the chair back and forth. “God has all the reliability you have never been able to find in people. Even I won’t pretend that I’ll never disappoint you or annoy you,” he said with a good-natured smile. “But God is forever the same. He’s faithful even when we aren’t.”

The words sounded good to Christy. But her heart had been so scarred from previous encounters that she resisted considering their hope.

“Give us a chance, Christy. Please.”

Christy felt his arms tighten around her. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to accept his love more than anything else in the world, but painful memories haunted her mind and frightened her in such a deep, unyielding way that she pushed him away. Jumping to her feet, Christy ran as fast as she could back down the hall. At the foyer table, she grabbed her purse and car keys and, without getting so much as a jacket, she bolted out the door.

Christy drove in circles around the city before finally ending up at the hospital. Making her way to intensive care, she was surprised when the nurse told her that Candy was awake and had been asking for her. Christy hastily donned isolation garments and went into her sister’s room.

“Candy?” she whispered, coming to her bedside.

“Christy, I’m glad you’re here.” Candy’s voice was so weak that Christy had to lean down to hear it.

“The nurse said you were asking for me.”

“Yes. Did Grant sign the papers?”

Christy frowned. “I don’t know. Grant told me he would sign the papers, if I…” She let the words trail off and hoped that Candy wasn’t lucid enough to realize what she’d been about to say.

“If you what? Tell me, Christy, what did Grant make you promise?” Candy’s voice seemed to take on a bit of strength.

“You answer my question first. Are you and Grant in financial trouble? I mean, before this accident and even before the cancer.”

Candy closed her eyes tightly. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you come to me? You could have asked for my help. What happened? Why isn’t there any money?” Christy seemed to forget her sister’s delicate condition.

“Grant’s gotten himself involved in some bad deals. He’s gone through everything. I didn’t know what to do, and that’s why I was coming to see you when I had the accident.”

“Grant asked me for a great deal of money,” Christy admitted in a hushed tone. “He promised to sign the papers giving me the baby if I gave him the money.”

Candy nodded. “I thought as much. I’m really sorry, Christy. It’s a bad situation, and I can’t help you.”

“Just tell me why,” Christy said, gently stroking Candy’s cheek. “Why does Grant need so much money? What has he gotten himself involved in that merits that kind of cash?”

Candy opened her eyes to reveal her tears. “Drugs,” she whispered. “Grant is dealing drugs. Something happened to one of his shipments, and he owes a lot of money—they’ll kill him if he doesn’t deliver. If you don’t give him the money, no doubt he’ll sell the baby to pay them off.”

Christy shuddered. “Don’t worry. He won’t get the baby.”

Candy’s expression was one of dire gratitude. “Thank you, Christy. You’ll never know…”

“Shhh,” Christy replied, putting a finger to her sister’s lips.

With a tender kiss to Candy’s forehead, Christy turned to leave. “Get some rest. I’ve got work to do.”

“Christy?” Candy barely mouthed the name. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sissy.”

Christy drove home in silence. Thoughts of Grant and his underhanded dealings consumed her mind. Her sister wouldn’t be in the hospital right now if it weren’t for him. Maybe none of this would have happened—the cancer, the accidents, the infidelity—had Grant not been involved with drugs.

When Christy pulled into her drive, she wasn’t surprised to find Curt’s car there. Night had fallen, the temperatures had dropped down into the twenties, and without a coat, Christy was shivering noticeably when she walked through the front door of her house.

“I was worried about you,” Curt said, coming to greet her as though it were routine.

“You’re still here?” Christy stated, uncertain what else to say.

“I fixed us some dinner,” Curt replied with a smile. He took her hand and walked to the dining room, where Christy could see he’d arranged a very intimate table for two.

“I thought you might like this,” he said, expertly helping her into a chair.

Taking the seat beside her at the head of the table, Curt stared into Christy’s surprised face. “Why don’t you tell me where you’ve been and why you look so angry?”

thirteen

Christy started to get up from the table, then changed her mind. On one hand, she resented Curt’s invasion of her privacy, and on the other, she was relieved to find someone to come home to.

“You shouldn’t have done this,” she said stiffly. “You can’t just take over my house like it’s yours.”

Curt smiled. “I was just sharing. I’ll restock the fridge—I promise.” He handed her a plate of beef Stroganoff. The aroma of the food made Christy’s mouth water and her stomach growl. She quickly realized it was the first thing she’d eaten all day.

She started to eat, but noticed that Curt bowed his head to offer a prayer for the food. Quietly, she waited, uncertain what to do and feeling very awkward.

“Father, I thank You for Christy and this food. Amen.”

“That’s it?” Christy asked in surprise.

Curt laughed. “I could go on and on about how fantastic I think you are, and I could ask God to fix things between us and—”

“I get the point,” Christy interrupted. “I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it.”

Curt shrugged. “Talk to me.”

Christy ate silently for several minutes and accepted some warm garlic bread from a very patient and persistent Curt.

Finally Christy knew that she couldn’t keep it all inside.

She put her fork down and eyed Curt as if trying to figure out how he would react to the idea of one of her own family members being involved with drug trafficking. Not that drugs are all that unusual in this day and age, she reminded herself, but will Curt understand?

As if reading her mind, Curt reached out to touch her hand. “You can trust me, Christy.”

“I went to see my sister,” she began. “I just drove around and around for a while, but I ended up at the hospital.”

“But that’s not what has you upset tonight, is it?”

Christy stared at Curt thoughtfully while she chewed. How should she tell him? Did one just blurt out that your brother-in-law was the neighborhood drug dealer?

Picking up her fork again, Christy played with the noodles on her plate. “My brother-in-law has asked me for a great deal of money.”

“To pay the hospital bills, right?”

“No, in addition to the hospital bills,” Christy replied. “My sister wants me to raise their baby, and Grant has agreed, so long as I give him the money.”

“He’s selling you his child? How much money did he ask for?” Curt asked suspiciously.

“Let’s just say it’s a very substantial amount. I asked my sister what possible reason there could be for Grant needing so much money.”

“And what did she say?”

Christy looked Curt straight in the eye. “She said he’s dealing drugs, and he’s in trouble. He needs the money to bail himself out. If I don’t provide it, he’ll most likely sell the baby to pay off his suppliers.”

“Is she sure?”

Christy tried to note whether he sounded shocked or not, but the truth was, he appeared totally unaffected. She took a deep breath and replied, “Yes. That’s why she was coming to see me before the accident. Candy said they’ve lost everything of value and that Grant can’t meet his obligations. That’s why she was so desperate about the baby.”

“And what does Grant say? Does he know that you know about the drugs?”

“Grant told me that as long as I pay Candy’s hospital bill and give him the money he’s asked for, I can have the baby.”

“And you believe him?”

Christy realized it did sound rather stupid to trust a man like Grant to keep his word on a matter. “I don’t think I have much of a choice,” she said softly. “I didn’t know what else to do. I can’t let him take the baby, and now that I know he’s involved in something like this, well, I probably should call the police. Do you think I should?”

“For now,” Curt began slowly, “you should probably keep it to yourself. After all, if Grant gets wind that the police know what he’s up to, there’s no telling what he’ll do once the baby is born.”

Christy nodded. It all made sense to her.

“I am curious, though,” Curt continued, “have you thought about the responsibilities of raising a baby alone?”

Christy bit at her lower lip and refused to meet his eyes. “I suppose I can’t fully understand the responsibility,” she confessed. “But I do know that I’ll love that baby almost as much as its biological mother would. No one else can give it that.” She seemed defensive and almost frightened.

“No one could doubt that you would love the child, Christy. I just wondered if you understood how time-consuming it would be.”

“There’s no other choice,” she whispered, and her eyes were filled with conflict. “I have to do this. There’s no one else. Erik certainly can’t be responsible for an infant. At least I can stay home and be here with it.”

“What about a father?” Curt asked gently. “Every baby deserves two parents.”

“What we deserve and what we get in life are usually two different things,” Christy said rather bitterly.

“That’s true enough, but, Christy, you can’t deny that a mother and a father would be better than a single working mom.”

“Better? I don’t know. More convenient and perhaps easier, yes. But I can’t say that two parents are more ideal unless I know who the two parents are. I can give the baby a home and a mother,” Christy said as though reasoning with herself. “I am financially secure.”

“There’s more to offering a good home and security than the financial aspect,” Curt reminded her. “You can’t be everywhere at once, Christy. You’ll wear yourself out, and then what good will you be to the baby or to yourself?”

“If you know a better way, I’m open to suggestions,” Christy stated, getting to her feet. “But if that way includes giving the baby over to someone else, then don’t bother to tell me about it.”

Curt got up slowly and put his napkin on the table. He walked to where Christy stood looking so strong and determined and encircled her with his arms. “We could do it together, Christy. You could marry me.”

Christy’s mouth dropped open and the shocked expression on her face said more than words ever could. Curt remained undaunted, however.

“I mean it. It’s not such a bad idea. You know I’ve come to care for you. I want us to work through our differences and—”

“Be parents?” she interjected.

“I’d like very much for us to be parents, one day. With kids of our own and all the trappings that go with frumpy old mar- ried life. I enjoy your company, Christy, and I think we’re good for each other.”

Christy pushed at his chest, but Curt held her firmly. “Ah, Christy,” he whispered against her ear, “I could take care of you and the baby. You wouldn’t have to face this alone, and you wouldn’t have to be so afraid.”

“You only want to marry me because you can’t have Debbie,” she said and pulled away. This time Curt let her go.

“You’re on the rebound, Curt. You just want to get married. I’ve seen it before in my friends, and it never works out. I don’t think we should see each other anymore because you’ll just go on putting your love for Debbie into what you imagine we could have in its place. I won’t be the other woman.”

Christy walked out of the room and left Curt to contemplate her words.

“I don’t love Debbie,” he called out, and Christy stopped. “Debbie and I were always meant just to be friends.”

Christy felt her heart give a jump. “Curt, I—”

The telephone rang and before Curt could stop her, Christy went to answer it.

“Hello?” Christy waited for a moment. “Yes, this is she.” Several seconds passed, and Christy heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone and felt her heart break.

“The hospital?” Curt questioned.

“Yes,” she murmured, turning to him. “They can’t find Grant, and they need me to sign some papers. Candy’s on a respirator now, and they have to take the baby by cesarean. They don’t expect Candy to live through the surgery.”

fourteen

Grant was still unavailable when Christy and Curt reached the hospital. Because of this and the lack of time to do otherwise, Christy was given a battery of papers to complete and sign, all while the nurse told her what was about to take place. Candy had al-ready been taken to surgery and was barely holding her own. Her blood pressure had steadily dropped to the point where the doctors knew they had come to the end of waiting. If the baby was to survive, they would have to take it now. With a shaky hand, Christy filled in the appropriate information, glancing from time to time at Curt as though looking for reassurance.

“What about your parents?” Curt questioned after the nurse had left the room.

Christy grimaced. “Dad is in Australia with his latest wife. His job is very demanding, and he can’t leave. It’s typical for him, and the only reason we called him was to be able to say we did it.”

“And your mother?”

“I let Erik call her. She’s in Europe.”

With nothing more to say about the matter, they sat in the sterile silence of the private waiting room. This, Christy thought, is where they isolate the family who is about to lose someone to death. This is where they keep you so you can’t upset everyone else when you get the bad news.

Christy was grateful when Erik showed up. Refusing to have anything further to do with her brother-in-law, she gave Erik the job of trying to find Grant and took up the duty of pacing the room for herself.

Everything in her life was about to change. How could she prepare herself? Within a short time she would be responsible for a baby. Not her own baby, but her dying sister’s baby. What in the world gave her the impression that she could take on such a job? Feeling panic rise like bile in her throat, Christy looked once again to the stalwart man who’d pledged to see her through this ordeal. Curt sat silently nearby, never once trying to force her to sit. He seemed to understand her needs. He nodded at her as if to say, “Yes, I’m still here, and I always will be.” It gave her a fragment of peace, and she took a deep breath before she began to walk the confines of the room again.

With Erik spending most of his time down the hall at a pay phone, Christy was very aware of her privacy with Curt. All at once, she stopped, looked at him for a moment, then came to sit on the edge of the sofa beside him.

In her mind were questions. Questions about life after death and Candy and Erik’s understanding about what would happen. Suddenly it was very important for Christy to understand as well.

“Curt,” she began softly, “you said that you were a Christian.” He nodded. “So you know about this eternal life stuff, right?”

Curt smiled. “Yeah, I know about it.”

“Candy told me that Erik had helped her to understand and that she wasn’t afraid anymore. You know—about what would happen after she died.” Christy felt as though she were rambling. “I just wondered, what is it that she understood? How can she not be afraid?”

Curt took hold of Christy’s cold hands and rubbed them gently. “She knows where she’s going,” he offered casually.

“Candy no doubt accepted Christ as her Savior. Are you familiar with the plan of salvation?”

“Not really,” Christy admitted. “I’ve heard about getting saved and the fires of hell and all of that, but I don’t really understand or know much about it.”

Curt wasn’t the least bit condemning for her ignorance, and Christy took a genuine interest in what he shared with her next. “God sent His Son, Jesus, into the world. It was a gift that He offered in order to help people reconcile themselves to Him. Jesus’ sole purpose was to come and bridge the gap between God and mankind, and it cost Him His life so that it wouldn’t cost us ours.”

“But everybody dies,” Christy said, as though it would be news to Curt.

“Sure,” Curt nodded, “everyone dies once. The Bible says that’s something that happens because of our physical limitations. But we don’t have to die twice.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Spiritually. The Bible was talking about spiritual death. If you accept Christ as your Savior and bridge that gap to God, you don’t have to die spiritually and be forever separated from God. People sometimes get all wrapped up in the image of hell as this burning place with the devil and his pitchfork. They shudder in revulsion at that image, yet they miss the bigger picture. Hell isn’t just physical suffering and torment; it’s separation from God. It’s the ultimate realization that you have completely negated your existence in God’s eyes.”

Christy stared at him for a moment. “If God is so good, why doesn’t He just fix things permanently with people so that they won’t go to hell?”

“Because He gives us a choice. He doesn’t force a relationship on us. He lets us taste of His goodness, His peace, and His love. Then He lets us decide for ourselves.”

“But if that’s true,” Christy said, trying desperately to sort through Curt’s statement, “if God is truly offering all this wonderful goodness, why would anyone choose any other way?”

Curt smiled. “Good question. Ask yourself, what keeps me from giving my life to God? Maybe you’ll find the answer to your own question.”

Just then, Erik returned. “I finally reached Grant on his car phone. He’s on his way up.”

Christy nodded and moved away from Curt. “I think I’d like to be alone for a few minutes.”

“I was just about to suggest some coffee,” Erik replied. “Curt, you want to join me?”

“Sure,” he answered and looked at Christy. “We’ll bring you back some.”

“Thanks,” she murmured and went to stare out the window into the Denver night.

This God stuff was new to her in many ways, and in other ways it wasn’t at all foreign. Erik had tried on more than one occasion to talk to her about Christianity. Christy remembered telling him that she wasn’t interested—that he might need God, but she certainly didn’t. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Minutes ticked by, and Christy wondered silently why God had brought her to this point in her life. She’d been so many places and done so many things, and yet, all in all, this was the hardest.

“So what seems to be the problem now?”

Christy whirled around to find Grant standing there, looking for all the world like he was bored.

“Your wife is about to die, and your baby is about to be born,” Christy replied sarcastically. She came to Grant and stood only inches from him. “We just thought you might like to know.”

“The only thing I want to know is whether or not you have my money.” Grant’s statement clarified any possibility that he felt concern about the situation.

“I’m working on it,” Christy spat the words. “You could at least pretend you care about them.”

“Why? To salve your conscience? To make this easier for you and your brother? I don’t think so,” Grant said in a heartless manner and looked at his watch. “I just want the matter settled. I haven’t got time for games.”

“This isn’t a game!” Christy exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down,” Grant said, taking on a threatening appearance. “I don’t need any hassles, Christy. Just get me the money, or you’ll never see the baby. It’s that simple.”

Curt had returned with Christy’s coffee, but seeing her with the stranger, he held back in the shadows just outside the waiting room. He could see that Christy was mad. She was ranting at the man, who stood with his back to the door. Curt realized it was probably her brother-in-law and started to go into the room, but something held him back. If it was her brother-in-law, then this was the man he was after. This man, Grant Burks, was possibly the man responsible for his parents’ death, and Curt wasn’t about to let him get away by blowing his cover.

It looked as though they were about to end their conversation, so Curt moved away from the room and waited out of sight. He watched and nearly dropped the coffee, however, as the man turned to stalk out of the room. It wasn’t Grant Burks at all. It was Cheryl Fairchild’s fiancé, Stratton McFarland.

Curt started to approach the man, then thought better of it. Turning away as Stratton rushed by, Curt could hardly wait to get back to Christy and find out why she had been arguing with McFarland.

Christy appeared shaken and was even more reserved than before when Curt approached her with the coffee. “Who was that?” he mo-tioned with his head in the direction McFarland had just disappeared.

“That was my brother-in-law, Grant,” Christy said, taking the coffee from Curt’s hand.

Curt began to put two and two together and didn’t like what he came up with. Grant Burks was posing as Stratton McFarland, or vice versa. Either way, he was living two completely different lives, with women at both ends and an uncertain, but obvious, relationship to the drugs that had cost Curt’s mother and father their lives.

“Christy,” Curt suddenly found himself saying, “what do you really know about him?”

“Grant?”

“Yes,” Curt said, his eyes narrowing in concentrated interest. “Have you known him long?”

“Not long, really. About a year I guess. He and Candy met through mutual friends and were married nearly a month later. They eloped and didn’t even bother to tell anyone until they were back from their honeymoon. Why?”

“I was just curious,” Curt replied.

“Where’s Erik?” Christy asked, completely unconcerned with Curt’s questions about Grant.

“He said he’d be here shortly. Here he is now,” Curt said and nodded toward the door. Erik entered with the doctor, who Curt immediately recognized as the man who was to perform Candy’s surgery. Erik had tears on his face.

“Your sister gave birth to a little girl,” the doctor said softly. “She appears to be healthy and strong. Erik tells me that Candy wanted to name her Sarah.”

“Yes,” Christy whispered and felt Curt come to stand beside her.

“Well, they’ve taken Sarah to the intensive care nursery where she’ll be monitored and given all of the attention she needs. You can visit her there every day, and I encourage you to start bonding to her immediately. That is, if you’re still going to be the one who adopts her.”

“I am,” Christy said, hardly able to say the words that followed. “What about my sister?”

The doctor shook his head. “She lasted much longer than any of us expected, but she just wasn’t strong enough to last through the surgery.”

Christy stood bone stiff, not even breathing.

“I’m sorry, Miss Connors. It’s never easy to lose someone you love.”

“I want to see her,” Christy blurted out. All three men looked at her questioningly.

“The baby will need to be cleaned up and evaluated before I can let you see her,” the doctor said.

“No,” Christy replied and turned to Curt, “I want to see my sister. I need to say good-bye.”

Curt nodded and looked to the doctor. “It’s all right. I’ll be with her.”

“Me, too,” Erik chimed in possessively.

The doctor drew a deep breath. “I’ll have the O.R. team clear out and then take you back.”

Minutes later, Curt led Christy, with Erik following close behind, to the small recovery room where Candy’s body had been moved. Thought-fully, the doctor had already pulled the sheet down to lie just under Candy’s serene face. She looks like she’s only sleeping, Christy thought. She reached out to touch her sister’s still warm cheek. Didn’t dead people get all cold and stiff?

Christy shook her head mutely. The doctor was saying something, but she couldn’t hear it. Her mind was blurred with the images of a little girl dancing around the room, showing off her frilly dress, talking about her new doll. Candy was gone, and all that remained were fuzzy memories and a tiny infant girl who they would call Sarah.

Erik cried openly, but Christy had no tears. She needed to accept this death, but in her heart there were still too many unanswered questions. Erik finally left, unable to deal with the emotions of the moment, but Curt remained by her side.

“I’m here, Sissy,” Christy whispered, bending down to Candy’s ear. She smoothed Candy’s hair back as though she were still alive.

Reaching under the sheet, Christy gripped Candy’s hand tightly. There were no words. No words at all. She just stood there, staring into the face of death and a lifetime of love. Oh, Candy, she thought, you can’t really be gone!

After several minutes, Curt gently removed Candy’s hand from Christy’s and led her out the door. Christy could barely make her legs walk beside Curt down the long hospital corridor. She just couldn’t accept that Candy was dead.

She said nothing as they moved out into the night air. The parking garage where Curt had left his car seemed to take forever to reach. Christy felt her head grow strangely dizzy. Her legs felt as though they were weighted rubber. They’d nearly reached the car when Christy stopped.

“Are you okay?” Curt asked and reached over to lift her face to see her better in the dim parking garage light.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Christy whispered, trying desperately to focus her eyes.

“You mean throw up?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and reaching out to fight the gravity that was pulling her downward. “I think I’m going to faint.”

Curt put his hands under her arms and pulled her forward. “Christy, just close your eyes, and it’ll be all right. I’ll carry you to the car.”

“No,” she whimpered against his hold. “I can walk. I never do this. I can’t stand fainty women. I have to fight it.”

“It’s okay to be a fainty woman if you have a reason like you do.”

“I have to be strong.”

Christy was still unable to move, and Curt finally ignored her pleading and lifted her into his arms. “You can be strong tomorrow,” he said insistently, “but right now, you’ll let me take care of you.”

Christy snuggled against him, feeling the blackness lift just a bit. Yes, she thought, I’ll let Curt take care of me, just this once.

fifteen

Curt took Christy home and insisted that she go right to bed, refusing to listen to her protests.

“I’ll be downstairs on the sofa,” he said at the top of the steps by her bedroom door. “If you need me, just call for me. I’ll hear you.”

Waiting to make sure Christy actually went into her bedroom and closed the door, Curt then made his way quickly to the telephone. He dialed the number absentmindedly and waited for Debbie to answer.

“Hello?”

“Debbie, it’s Curt.”

“Where in the world have you been?” Her voice was edged with true concern. “I’ve been trying to locate you for hours.”

“I know. Listen, something big has happened, and I need your help….”

Minutes later, Curt dialed the second of two phone calls he knew he’d have to make. It was quite late, but there was no putting it off.

“Hello?” a sleep-filled voice sounded on the other end of the line.

“Brad, it’s Curt.”

“What is it?” Brad’s voice immediately sounded clearer.

“Something’s happened tonight, and I think you should be aware of it. I also think the time has come to get CJ out of Denver. Especially away from Cheryl.” Curt’s voice was a low whisper.

“Why?” Brad asked without hesitation.

“Cheryl’s fiancé, Stratton McFarland, is the man at the center of our investigation. He’s really a man named Grant Burks, at least I presume that’s his real name. My partner is checking it out even as we speak. Look, I don’t think Cheryl has any idea about the drug ring, but I can’t risk it. I’m going to see Ben tomorrow, and I have no idea how it will go. It’s very possible that even Ben is involved in this. We can’t risk CJ being with Cheryl when things go sour. I think you’d better get her out of town.”

“I understand, and I’ll see to everything at this end,” Brad replied.

“CJ won’t like it,” Curt said as if Brad wouldn’t already know.

“No, she won’t,” Brad replied. “But she’ll do what she’s told—at least this once.”

Curt hung up the phone and took a deep breath. If only he knew whether or not Cheryl and Ben were involved. Surely they weren’t. Doug O’Sullivan had loved Ben like a brother. The families had always been inseparable. Ben would never have allowed anything bad to happen to Doug if he could have stopped it, of this Curt was certain.

“Oh, God,” Curt breathed, “where are the answers?”

Upstairs, Christy lay awake in the huge Victorian bed. She thought at first, when she’d crawled between the cool comfort of her sheets, that she’d sleep forever. But that wasn’t to be the case. She felt wide awake.

Hours passed as she tossed from one side of the bed to the other, trying without luck to find a comfortable position. Why couldn’t she just relax and forget about the events of the night?

Moonlight came through the window, streaking shadows across the room. Christy sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. Curt had said that Candy knew where she was going and that was why she wasn’t afraid to die. But Christy didn’t know where she was going. Christy felt alone and lost, so helplessly lost. The void inside was eating her alive, and she finally threw off the covers and went to find Curt. She had to settle this thing once and for all. She had to make peace with God and know where she was going.

Silently she crept down the stairs and went to the sitting room, where she knew Curt would be sleeping. She glanced at the small fire he’d built before retiring. It was dying down so that just a flicker of flames danced upward every so often. She came to stand beside the sleeping man and noticed in the dim light that he had the most beautiful eyelashes.

“Curt,” she whispered his name.

“Yeah?”

The fact that he was wide awake startled her for only a moment. “I need to talk to you about God. I need…” Her words fell away as tears came unbidden to her eyes.

Curt sat up and pushed the covers away. “Come here,” he said, patting the couch.

“I’m so lost, Curt. I’m scared and lost and empty. I don’t know where I’m going. Do you understand?”

Curt reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Yes, I understand. You need to have peace in your soul. You want to know that you’ll see your sister again and that God will take care of all the details and give you strength to go on.”

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding her head. “Oh, yes!”

There was no tone of condemnation, nor did Curt offer a pious sermon. He simply took her hand and smiled. “Isaiah 40:30–31 says, ‘Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.’ I always liked that verse because I was a pilot and soaring on wings like eagles was an important part of my life. But just like you, there were times when I couldn’t cope and things seemed much too difficult to deal with. My mom showed me this verse when I was quite small and told me that I had a source of strength that would never fail me. All I had to do was put my hope in the Lord, and He would do the rest.”

Curt continued to share God’s love, and when he asked Christy if she was ready to accept salvation through Christ, she knew she was. It not only felt right, but it was clearly the only choice.

“Then we’ll just pray,” Curt told her softly, “and ask God to save you. We’ll ask Jesus to bring you into His family forever.”

Christy bit at her lower lip. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to say it right.”

“Then we’ll do it together,” Curt said supportively. He pulled her close. “Just repeat after me, and only say it if you really and truly mean it. God already knows your heart, Christy. He just wants you to recognize what He’s already seen there.”

“All right. I’m ready,” she replied.

“Dear Father, I know I’m lost without You,” Curt began and Christy repeated the words, knowing them to be truer than anything she’d ever spoken in her life.

“Forgive me of my sins and help me to turn away from evil, so that I might live forever with You in heaven.” Again Christy echoed the words.

“I accept what Jesus did for me on the cross, dying to take my place. I ask that You would accept me now as Your child and forever keep me in Your care. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Christy finished the prayer and sat silently for several minutes. She thought of Curt’s words and her prayer and wondered if she would ever truly feel as though she soared on wings like eagles. Even with the assurance that she had salvation, Christy still ached from the loss of her sibling, and she faced the idea of motherhood with uncertainty.

Gently, Curt turned Christy to face him and cupped her chin in his hand. “I love you. I’ve loved you for a very long time, and I will always love only you.”

Christy felt her heart skip a beat. “I love you, too.” The words slipped out before she could guard her thoughts. Feeling almost embarrassed, she tried to turn away, but Curt would have no part of it.

“Trust me, Christy. Just as you are trusting God for your soul and eternity, trust me to love you and be faithful to you,” he whispered sincerely.

“It’s not easy to trust after a lifetime of hurt.”

“I know, but I’m patient and,” he paused and grinned broadly, “determined.”

“Yes, you certainly are,” Christy agreed.

“I want you to understand some things, but now isn’t the right time. Please trust me in this, and when the time comes, try to remember that I love you and that you can count on that love.”

Christy wondered what Curt could possibly mean. What things? She opened her mouth to ask, but Curt put his finger to her lips.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just trust me.”

When Christy returned alone to her room, she found that sleep quickly replaced her restlessness. When morning came, she awoke re-freshed, and though the memory of Candy’s death dimmed her spirits, Christy realized there was hope.

She quickly showered and styled her hair. Christy decided that routine would be the best way to keep from being bogged down in grief. Going to her desk, she reviewed her appoint- ment book and made plans for the day. Cheryl Fairchild was coming at 9:30, so she would have to finish with her makeup and hurry if she was going to get a chance to read the paper and have her juice.

Nearly floating down the stairs with a heart lighter than she’d ever known, Christy wondered if it was her acceptance of God and His promises that made her feel so free or Curt’s declaration of love.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Although his clothes were wrinkled, Christy thought she’d never seen a better-looking man in all her life. “Morning. I see you’re cooking again.” She motioned to the stove.

“Yes, but you’ll find that your juice and paper are already in the usual place.”

Christy shook her head and laughed. “Are you trying to push Aggie out of a job?”

“Naw, just showing you how useful I am. What’s on the agenda for the day? I know you’ll want to go see the baby, but what else have you got planned?”

“I have an appointment at 9:30. It’s a final fitting, so it shouldn’t take long. If you want to stick around and go up to the hospital with me, you’re welcome to do so.”

“I’d like that, Christy,” Curt said, coming to place a light kiss on her forehead. “It’s the first time you’ve ever asked me to take you somewhere.”

“It’s the first time you’ve given me a chance to ask. Usually you just jump in and demand,” she said with a smile.

“Okay, I’ll try to be less demanding,” he said, matching her smile. “What else have you planned?”

Christy lost her smile, remembering that she’d no doubt be required to make arrangements for Candy’s funeral. “My sister,” she stated hesitantly, and Curt nodded. There was no need to continue, so Christy dropped the subject and went to the enclosed balcony where her juice and paper awaited her.

Curt was cleaning up the kitchen while Christy made ready for Cheryl in the fitting room. She was glad this was to be the final fitting. Cheryl Fairchild was very rich, but also very flighty. At least, Christy reasoned, she must be or she wouldn’t have cancelled her wedding so many times. When the doorbell rang, Christy made her way down the hall, but not before Curt answered the door.

“Curt O’Sullivan!” Cheryl exclaimed. “What in the world are you doing here?” Christy froze in place as the perky blond continued. “I would never in a million years expect to see you here. Did CJ tell you I was coming for my final fitting today?”

Curt cast a wary look over his shoulder, and Christy met his gaze.

Cheryl was impervious to the couple’s reaction. “Curt O’Sullivan and I are longtime friends,” she said to Christy. “We were once en-gaged, but that’s all water under a long, distant bridge.”

Christy said nothing, concentrating instead on the fact that Cheryl Fairchild had called him Curt O’Sullivan for the second time. She finally tore her eyes from Cheryl’s bubbly face and met Curt’s stare. He seemed to be trying to apologize with his expression, but Christy re-mained unemotionally stiff.

“I have another surprise,” Cheryl continued, still not realizing that any problem existed with her declaration of Curt’s true identity. “I know I promised no more delays in the wedding and there aren’t any, but there is a minor problem.” She glanced at Curt. “I’m pregnant. I thought we might need to make sure the gown will still fit in another month.”

Christy noted that Curt’s face registered shock, and then, a look of almost anger seemed to penetrate his expression. Maybe he didn’t like the idea that his onetime fiancée was expecting another man’s child. Maybe he’d never gotten over his feelings for her. Maybe…

Christy shook her head and dismissed the matter from her mind. First he’d been engaged to Cheryl and then Debbie. How many more women were in his life? Curt had lied to her. He’d said she could trust him, but he’d even lied about who he really was. He wasn’t Curt Kyle at all, but some man named O’Sullivan.

“Go on to the fitting room,” Christy said mechanically, her eyes refusing to leave Curt’s face. “The gown is hanging on the wall. Go ahead and get ready to try it on.”

“You aren’t miffed with me, are you?” Cheryl questioned as she came to where Christy was standing.

“What?” Christy broke contact with Curt to question Cheryl.

“This pregnancy thing,” Cheryl said in explanation. “You aren’t mad about it, are you?”

“No,” Christy stated. “You’re small enough that another month isn’t going to matter that much. The dress design is such that you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Oh, good,” Cheryl said and turned to Curt. “It was great seeing you again. By the way, Stratton really did enjoy meeting you the other night. He’s always had a great interest in CJ and Brad. He wants us all to be close friends. Say, will you be here when I’m done with the fitting?”

Curt said nothing.

“Mr. O’Sullivan,” Christy said, with pointed reference to his last name, “was just leaving.”

“That’s too bad. Call me, Curt. You can get the number from CJ. I want to be sure and have you come to the wedding. You know, for old time’s sake.”

The minute Cheryl was out of the room, Curt tried to explain. “Remember, I told you there were things I had to talk to you about. Trust me, Christy, please, just trust me.”

“No. Get out!” she demanded as quietly as she could.

“You have to let me explain.”

“No, I don’t.” Her words were guarded and low. “I never want to see you again. Now leave.” She turned to go assist Cheryl and found Curt’s arms pinning her in a steely grip. He pulled her against him, and Christy fought back.

“Just listen to me.”

Christy brought her foot down on top of his, but it didn’t phase him. She pushed and struggled against his hold, but she was no match for him. Finally, she grew quiet, and Curt released her.

She turned slowly and couldn’t keep the tears from forming in her eyes. “Haven’t I been through enough? Did you think it was some game you could play with me? Did Debbie even know who you were?”

“I’m sorry, Christy. I told you last night that there were things we needed to discuss, but I wanted to wait until the time was right.”

“And when would that have been?” Christy questioned softly. “Maybe when we were filling out the papers for a marriage license? Oh, by the way, you won’t be Mrs. Kyle, you’ll be Mrs. O’Sullivan.”

“Christy…”

“No,” she shook her head, saying, “please just go. If you truly love me, then go. I can’t deal with this now.”

Curt reluctantly left Christy’s house and had nearly reached the corporate offices of O&F Aviation before realizing where he was. It was time to talk to Ben Fairchild. There was no putting it off, and Curt had enough anger and regret burning inside to fuel the conversation.

Steeled with determination, Curt marched into the building and made his way to Ben’s office, mindless of the uproar he caused when he bypassed three secretaries and kept going.

“Sir, do you have an appointment with Mr. Fairchild?” a woman questioned, dogging Curt’s heels all the way to the massive door that read, “B. Fairchild, President.”

“He’ll see me, lady,” Curt announced unemotionally. “He’ll see me.”

“But, sir, I have to let him know…”

Curt stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “I’m half-owner of this operation. You don’t have to let him know anything.” With that, he threw open the door and stared at the white-haired man, who looked back at him in complete shock.

“Curt!” Ben Fairchild declared, getting to his feet. “I’d heard you were in town. Come in.” He seemed to look past Curt to the woman and added, “It’s okay, Janice. This is Curt O’Sullivan.”

The woman and Curt exchanged brief glances before she made her way out of the room and closed the door. Curt studied his father’s friend for a moment, wondering silently if this man had given the order to kill his father. Steady, he thought. I have to be cool about this or he’ll never talk. Give him enough rope to hang on.

“Ben, it’s been a long time,” Curt finally said. “I’m sorry for barging in like this, but I didn’t have time to call.”

“No problem, son. I’ve hoped you’d come home for a long time. Sit down and tell me what you’ve been up to. Are you home for good?”

Curt took the offered leather chair and shook his head. “I’m not sure. I heard about CJ’s marriage and wanted to come see for myself that she hadn’t married some bum who just wanted her money.”

Ben laughed, and Curt thought it sounded a little stilted. “Alders-son has plenty of his own money. You can be sure of that. I checked before CJ married him. I wouldn’t have let harm come to her.”

“Really?” Curt said without thinking.

Ben’s eyes narrowed questioningly. “Why do you say that?”

Curt put his elbows on the armrests and drew his fingertips to-gether. “Ben, there are some things from the past that you and I need to talk over. I’m not real sure how to go about this, but I need some answers, and I think you may well be the one man who has them.”

“Me?” Ben questioned, and this time there was no mistaking the tremble in his voice. “What kinds of things are you talking about?”

“Mom and Dad. The crash.” Curt watched as the color drained from Ben’s face.

“That’s not an easy topic.”

“I know, but it is one that needs to be settled.”

“Settled? What do you mean, settled? The crash is more than five years behind us.”

“Yeah, but not everything about it is five years behind us. Some things are still very much current affairs.”

“Such as?”

Curt bit at his lip as if thinking of just the right words. What he wanted to do was to unnerve Ben enough that the man would jump into the conversation without Curt having to ask any questions. Waiting a minute more, Ben did just that.

“I can’t tell you how hard life has been for me without your father. I loved him like a brother. He and your mother both were like family.” Ben paused, shuffled some papers on his desk, then returned his gaze to Curt. “I’ve done my best by the business, Curt.”

“No one said you didn’t, Ben.”

“I’ve had some difficulties, but I’ve done what I could to straighten them out. It hasn’t always been easy, but maybe you could come back to work and give me a hand.”

“What would Stratton McFarland do for a job then?”

“Stratton?” Ben swallowed hard, and Curt refused to cut him a single inch of space. “He’s engaged to Cheryl, you know,” Ben said abruptly.

“Yeah, I know. I also know a great deal more about Mr. McFarland than I think you realize.”

Ben coughed spasmodically and got to his feet. “Look, Curt, I don’t know what you’re getting at. I don’t know why you’re here today, but I’ve tried to do good by you. I felt I owed it to your mother and father.”

“Why, Ben? Because you were the reason for the crash?” Curt hadn’t meant it to come out that way, but now it was said and there was nothing more to do.

Ben’s breathing quickened, but Curt sat with an unmoving eye on the man.

A look washed over Ben’s face that seemed at first to be one of searing pain and then almost relief. “I didn’t want them to die.” Curt re-mained silent. “I didn’t want them to die!” Ben repeated emphatically. “I told Doug just to keep quiet and let me deal with things, but he was angry and out of control and I couldn’t reason with him.”

“So you had him killed because of your little cocaine industry?”

Ben grabbed for the desk and Curt wondered if he would fall. “How did you know about that?”

“Dad called me right after he found the shipment.”

“That’s impossible. He talked to me after finding it. It wasn’t long after that, that he took off and…”

“And crashed. Dying a painful death, knowing that he had been betrayed by his best friend. Knowing that he couldn’t save the life of his wife and daughter because he’d seen too much.” Curt’s voice was deadly calm. “Only CJ lived. Your people hadn’t counted on that.”

“No one was supposed to die, Curt. Your father was the best at flying. It was only a warning. They just wanted Doug to keep quiet about the drugs.”

“Who wanted him quiet, Ben?”

Ben retook his seat and loosened his necktie. “Look, I’ll explain everything, but you have to believe me. I never wanted your family hurt. I’ve carried this around inside for years, all because I couldn’t keep it from happening.”

“Go on.” Curt still showed no emotion.

“I got O&F into some trouble. I made mistakes in the taxes, and by the time they were brought to my attention, we owed millions in back taxes. Someone came to me and promised to clear it off the books if we would cooperate and help them out in return.”

“Who?”

“McFarland,” Ben said weakly. “McFarland was an attorney on staff. He’s the one who found the problem with the books, and he’s the one who backed me into a corner.”

“McFarland? He seems to be too incompetent to accomplish something like that on his own.”

“I swear it was him, Curt. He told me that if O&F would help him transport his cocaine throughout the U.S. via the air shows, he would fix the books and make sure we wouldn’t be penalized for the mistake. It seemed harmless enough.”

“Harmless?” The first hint of emotion came into Curt’s voice. “Since when has cocaine been harmless?”

“I know how it sounds, Curt, but I was up against the wall. If we’d been found out by the feds, it would have meant an end to the business.”

“Instead, it put an end to my parents’ lives and nearly killed my sister. Ben, please don’t expect me to be civil about this.” Curt rose from the chair and pounded his fists down on the large executive desk. “Please don’t tell me how harmless this was.”

Ben’s eyes welled with tears. “I didn’t think they’d kill him. I just thought they were going to scare him. Believe me, I haven’t had a peaceful moment since it happened. I even tried to get rid of McFarland, but he has me by the neck. If I fire him now, he’ll prove our tax evasion to the feds.”

“You’re pathetic,” Curt said, suddenly knowing all the answers he needed. “I can’t believe you sold my father out that way. You killed him and Mother, just as surely as if you’d put a gun to their heads. And I’ll tell you something else,” Curt paused and straightened. “Dad blamed you. As the plane was going down he said to my mother, ‘He’s done us in.’ CJ remembered it quite vividly. What she didn’t know is that you were the ‘he’ responsible.”

“No!” Ben cried out in such agony that Curt almost regretted his words. “I wasn’t the one. I didn’t make it happen!”

Curt turned to leave, knowing that if he stayed one minute more, he might lose control. “You didn’t stop it, either.”

sixteen

Christy could barely remember getting through Cheryl’s fitting. Before 10:15, however, she’d sent the happily expectant Cheryl on her way and locked the house and pulled the drapes. Making her way upstairs, Christy threw herself across the bed and cried.

She had thought he was different. She was sure of it. Curt seemed so sincere, and his love of God had made her feel that he could be trusted. Why, then, had he lied to her? Why had he hidden his true identity from her? Was he in trouble, like Grant?

She heard the telephone ring several times, but certain that it would be Curt, she refused to answer it. Sometime around noon, Christy fell asleep and didn’t wake up until nearly three-thirty. Uncertain that she even wanted to get up, Christy rolled over and stared at the ceiling for another fifteen minutes before giving in to her responsibilities.

When she came downstairs to the darkened rooms, she felt like crying all over again. Why couldn’t she have found happiness and settled down to a peaceful life with a trustworthy man?

Coming into the darkened sitting room, Christy nearly screamed when Curt appeared in the doorway. “We have to talk.”

“No. No; just go away.” She tried to flee, but he pulled her back and forced her to sit.

“My name is Curtiss Kyle O’Sullivan. I grew up here in Denver, and I have a younger sister named CJ. I grew up flying because my father was a famous pilot, and he and my mother began an aviation corporation with a longtime friend, Cheryl’s father, Ben Fairchild. When I was twenty-one, about six years ago, my parents were killed in an airplane crash that left my sister severely injured. Before my father died, he found drugs on one of his planes and called me to ask if I had any idea who was responsible. I didn’t, but figured my father and I would work together and figure it out. But we didn’t get a chance to because they sabotaged his plane and killed him.”

Christy said nothing and Curt continued. “I’m an officer with the Drug Enforcement Administration, Christy. We traced drugs to your warehouse in New York. We thought you were at the center of the ring, and that’s why Debbie and I posed as a couple and came to you for a gown. Debbie has never been more than a good friend and my partner. I was supposed to snoop around and learn what I could while you were fitting her for the dress.”

At this Christy raised her face in stunned apprehension. “You thought I was dealing drugs?”

“It pointed to you,” Curt said, finally taking a seat in the chair be-side her. “But I knew the moment we met that you couldn’t possibly know anything about it. I knew when I held you in my arms the night of your sister’s accident that you were innocent of any wrongdoings. I also knew that I was falling in love with you.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t possibly mean it. You were just using me to get information. Dear God, how stupid can one woman be?” Christy said with her eyes raised to the ceiling.

“It wasn’t like that,” Curt replied. “At first I did try to get information from you for the purpose of the investigation, but it wasn’t the reason I kept coming back. I fell in love with you. My boss even threatened to take me off the case—that’s how bad I was about the whole thing. I spent more time protecting your image than digging for the truth. You have to believe me, Christy.”

The pleading tone wasn’t lost on her. She nearly cringed at the sadness in his voice. It was almost like he knew he was fighting a final battle, and the outcome would forever change his destiny.

“I can’t believe you,” she whispered. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Yes, you do. Down deep inside, you know the real me. The only important me. Christy, I told them all along that you were innocent. You can ask Debbie. I told her what happened this morning and that we were going to have to let you in on it or totally blow the work we’d accomplished. We have to put Grant away, Christy. He may be the person responsible for my parents’ crash.”

Christy shook her head. “You’re just using all of this to make yourself look better.”

“What can I say to convince you? I know things about you that you haven’t told me. I know about your shipping schedules and your European brokers. I know that you always use T.D. Express for your shipments. What you might not know is that T.D. Express is a subsidiary of O&F Aviation, the company that I co-own with my sister and Ben Fairchild.”

“All of this sounds contrived,” Christy said, sniffing back tears. “I mean you start out with this story about airplanes and drugs, and you end up snooping through my house and business affairs. Where’s the connection?”

“There are several, although until recently I didn’t realize just how many. When I started working on finding my parents’ killers, I was on my own. What I knew, I couldn’t prove. Then I met up with some people in the DEA, and we became good friends. Next thing I knew, I was part of the force, making it a whole lot easier to investigate. I knew that people in O&F Aviation were involved, but I had to get proof.”

“I still don’t see how this connects to me. I’m a dress design- er, for pity’s sake.”

“Christy, you have to trust me. I can’t give the entire case away because it involves too many people. You have to understand, the biggest problem that’s facing us in the case right now—the one that worries me about your safety—is Grant.”

“Grant?” Christy questioned. “Why Grant? I mean, I know he’s involved in drugs, but how does he figure into your case and why is it any of my concern?”

Curt shifted restlessly in the seat. “Cheryl Fairchild is one of your clients, and she’s involved with Grant.”

“Grant? Why should I believe you?”

“Because whether you care about the adults involved, the lives of two children depend on you keeping my cover intact.”

“Two children?” Christy questioned curiously.

“Yes, and both of them are unfortunately Grant’s.”

Christy’s eyes narrowed and her brows drew together as if she could somehow solve the equation that Curt put before her. “What are you saying?”

“Cheryl Fairchild is carrying Grant’s baby. She knows him as Stratton McFarland, however. I met him at a party my sister gave. I thought he looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t until I saw him arguing with you at the hospital and learned who he was that I was able to place him. I’d seen him leaving your driveway in a black Porsche. I didn’t get all that good a look, however, so when I met him at CJ’s, I just didn’t remember.”

Christy felt the blood drain from her face. She thought for a minute she might even faint.

“I’m sorry, Christy. I had to tell you because I fear for your life. I want to protect you, but I can’t unless you help me. Sarah is at stake, also. You can’t keep her safe by yourself. You need me and I need you, not only for this case, but for each other.”

Christy remained silent, contemplating everything Curt had shared with her. It was so much to take in, yet somehow she knew it must be true.

“Cheryl’s been engaged to Stratton, or Grant, for nearly a year. He must have met her right after marrying Candy,” Curt continued. “He courted Cheryl in great style, but according to my sister, he was strangely absent for long periods of time, and he didn’t explain his whereabouts. I presume that’s when he was at home with Candy. He and Cheryl set a wedding date, and Cheryl moved back to Denver from Los Angeles—at least I think that’s where they originally met—and planned her wedding. One thing after another took place to delay their plans. You should know, too, that it was Grant who insisted that Cheryl use your wedding design business. He told her, right down to the last detail, what he wanted her dress to be composed of.”

“Yes, I do remember Cheryl stating on occasion that her fiancé had specified many of the materials we were to use in her gown,” Christy said, forgetting that she didn’t believe Curt’s story.

Curt smiled for the first time since arriving. Refusing to let him have any hope in the situation, Christy immediately covered her mistake.

“Cheryl could have told you that,” she replied stiffly.

“In a way, I guess she did. She told my sister, and my sister found it very strange that a man should be so involved in the design and materials of a woman’s wedding dress. She even told me that Cheryl had to re-arrange her scheduled appointments with you on more than one occasion because she was trying to get Stratton-Grant to come with her and see the dress. But he knew he couldn’t come here because you would recognize him as your brother-in-law.”

“But why become involved at all?”

“The drugs. As best as I can figure it, Grant needed something special in a nonroutine shipment. He knew if he could get you to place a specific order, he could have the drugs or whatever it was he needed imported right along with the materials.

Christy, this thing is bigger than you can imagine. The proportions for this operation outrank anything even I expected.”

Christy got up and walked to the window. Lightly fingering the drapes, her mind raced with unspoken questions. Before she realized it, Curt was at her back, his hands on her arms.

“Please, Christy, please believe my love for you is real. I want to walk away from this entire matter when it’s done and know that I still have you. That I haven’t lost the one precious thing I have in life.”

When she didn’t react to his touch or respond to his voice, Curt continued. “I’ll give you the money Grant’s demanding for Sarah. I’ll do whatever I can to prove to you that I love you and the baby. Just help me nail Grant. Help me put him away where he can’t hurt anybody ever again.”

“How can you be sure that Grant is responsible for the deaths of your parents?” Christy finally asked in a strained voice.

“Because Ben Fairchild told me he was.”

“I just don’t know,” Christy finally said. “I need to think.”

Curt dropped his hands. “Don’t take too long,” he said and added, “we don’t have much time.”

Christy nodded and waited for him to leave. She heard his footsteps as he went from the room and through the foyer. She heard the front door open and close, then watched as he walked down the sidewalk, not even looking back to where he knew she stood. Then he was gone, and Christy felt the emptiness in her heart fill her being.

Fool! Her mind seemed to scream the word. Her heart pounded harder. What was she supposed to do? Grant was dealing drugs and would most likely take Sarah away from her if Christy didn’t do everything he told her to. Curt was involved in some major undercover sting operation, and her designer business was stuck in the middle of everything.

Fool seemed too mild a word.

seventeen

Christy stood with her brother at the graveside of their sister. Candy’s funeral had been a quiet affair with so few people to mourn her passing that Christy felt even sadder. How could a child of nineteen pass through life and leave so little behind?

Neither her mother nor father had taken the time to come back to the United States for the service. Even Grant hadn’t bothered to show up, not that Christy really expected him to. He’d given no recognition of the baby’s existence, nor of Candy’s passing. Why would it surprise anyone that he hadn’t bothered to pay his final respects to a woman he had never respected in the first place?

“Psalm 116 says, ‘I love the Lord, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy,’ “the minister stated, but Christy barely heard the words. Her mind was turned back to that moment with Curt when she’d accepted the Lord as her own Savior.

“‘Be at rest once more, O my soul,’” the minister recited, “‘for the Lord has been good to you. For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling….’”

Christy thought of Curt’s verse in Isaiah. What was it? Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall…. Christy remembered the words and felt as though a warm arm had come to wrap itself around her.

The minister’s compelling voice continued the eulogy, “‘I believed; therefore I said, “I am greatly afflicted.” And in my dismay I said, “All men are liars.” ‘”

Christy felt the breath go out from her as though someone had punched her in the stomach. Those could be my own words, she thought. Hadn’t she felt men unworthy of her trust because they always lied? Wasn’t it the reason she felt Curt had betrayed her? She had to struggle to pick up the rest of the psalm.

“‘Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. O Lord, truly I am your servant; I am your servant, the son of your maidservant; you have freed me from my chains.’” The minister paused, and Christy waited in a strange sense of anxiety for what he would say. “This young child, Camille Burks, better known to her loved ones as Candy, is now free of her chains. Her brother explained that before she died, Candy found the truth of God’s love for her and felt peace in her departure from the life she knew on earth.”

Tears came to Christy’s eyes. She knew her desires to keep Candy on earth had been selfish, but the loss was so great and her pain so complete.

“Erik, Christy,” the minister was saying, and Christy snapped her head up to meet the face of the aging man. She barely heard the words of comfort he offered, however. Curt stood not twenty feet beyond, and Debbie was at his side.

Her eyes locked with Curt’s, and Christy knew that she loved him as much as she feared that she couldn’t trust him. It was all she could do to remain planted beside Erik and not run to Curt for comfort. But she refused to be made a fool of. She couldn’t let Curt know how much she needed him. She couldn’t be vulnerable and feel the pain of betrayal again.

The short service concluded, and before Christy could say a word to Erik, he left her side and went to where Curt and Debbie stood. So much for his support, Christy thought. Instead of waiting for Erik to return, Christy decided to walk back to the car.

“Curt, it was good of you to come,” Erik said and extended his hand.

“I thought Christy might need me, even if she doesn’t think so,” Curt replied. “By the way, this is Debbie. She’s a good friend of mine, and we work together.”

Erik smiled with genuine warmth at the exotic-looking woman. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Debbie, would you mind waiting at the car? I need to speak with Erik alone.”

“Sure,” Debbie replied and walked off, leaving the two men to talk.

Curt shifted uncomfortably for a moment, then made his mind known to Erik. “I wonder if I could ask you a favor?”

“What is it?”

“I’d like for you to take Debbie home, so that I can drive Christy home. We have to talk, but I’m not sure she’ll do it unless forced to.”

“And you expect me to force my sister to do something against her will? You’ve been a steady support, but, good grief, man, I don’t know you at all,” Erik stated honestly.

“I know,” Curt replied. “I don’t blame you for your apprehension, and sometime, when I can, I’ll explain in more detail. The bottom line is that I love your sister, and I want to marry her. Right now she’s hurting from all of this,” Curt said, waving his hand to where Candy’s coffin rested. “And she feels that I’ve wronged her, and in some ways, I guess I have. But, Erik, you have to understand that I want only the best for Christy. I want to love her for all time, and I want to help her raise Sarah.”

“Sometimes,” Erik said softly, “she can be very stubborn. She often misses what’s best for her. Maybe you’re exactly what she needs.”

Christy, still lost in thought, glanced up to see Erik assist- ing Debbie into his vehicle. What was he doing?

“Christy.” Curt’s voice sounded from right behind her.

She whirled around to protest that her brother was deserting her, but quickly realized it was exactly what Curt had planned. How could Erik do this to her? How could he leave her?

Christy glanced back at Erik as he prepared to drive away, then to Curt as if awaiting his explanation.

“I asked him to take Debbie home so that you’d have to accept a ride from me. Christy, I want so much for you to talk to me. I want…” He couldn’t continue. “Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, coming to stand only inches from Christy.

“Look at you like what?” she asked in surprise.

“Like you expect me to hurt you. I’ve told you the truth—all of it. I even received a severe reprimand from my superiors.”

“You did?” Christy’s voice seemed to soften for a moment, then she quickly put her walls back in place. “Maybe you could just manipulate them like you did my brother.” She started to stalk off, but Curt put his hand out and took hold of her arm.

“Erik realizes that my intentions toward you are honorable. I’ve honestly never felt this way about anyone else, Christy, and I never will. Like it or not, I’m 100 percent yours.”

Christy fought between emotions of pure joy and stubborn denial. Curt always made her feel protected and cared for, but she quickly reasoned that feelings weren’t enough.

“I’ve heard a lot of words in my life,” Christy finally said. “I have a hard time putting trust in words.”

“Then seek your answer in prayer. Trust God, if you can’t trust me. I know you love me, Christy. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your voice. When you looked up from Candy’s grave and saw me, what did you feel? What did you think?”

Christy opened her mouth to say something completely untrue, but Curt put his finger to her lips. “Remember how much you hate lies.”

Christy blushed, hating the fact that Curt knew her so well. “All right,” she said and twisted away from his hold, “you can drive me to the hospital. I’m going to visit Sarah.”

“First, answer my question. Tell me what you thought. Better yet, tell me what you wanted to do.”

“You think you know me so well,” Christy said sarcastically; “you tell me.”

“I believe I will.” By this time, Christy and Curt were the only ones left in the cemetery. “You wanted to come to me,” Curt stated simply. “No. You needed to come to me. You needed me to hold you and tell you that it would be all right. We’re two halves of a whole, Christy.”

Christy stared at him with more surprise than she’d intended to let him see. Two halves of a whole? Could it really be that way between them?

“I love you, Christy,” Curt said, taking her hands in his. “Marry me. Marry me and let me prove to you, day-by-day, just how faithful and true my love is.”

Christy shook her head. “I can’t.” She saw the pain in his eyes and added, “At least not yet. Give me some time.”

Several moments of silence filled the air around them. “All right,” Curt said with great exasperation, “but I need to talk to you about the case. That I can’t wait on. Has Grant contacted you about the money yet?”

Christy shook her head. “No, I haven’t heard from him.”

“Good. When he calls you or comes to see you, you have to let me know. We figure we can pin him down when you give him the money.”

“I won’t do anything that puts Sarah’s life in jeopardy,” Christy stated firmly.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“If Grant believes he’s being set up, he might try to hurt her, and I can’t have that.”

“I understand, Christy; just don’t let the exchange take place without me.” His voice was pleading.

“I’ll do what I can,” Christy replied thoughtfully. “But I won’t let anyone put Sarah in the middle of this. No amount of money or retaliation is worth the life of that child.”

“Just let me know,” Curt said and gently took hold of her once again. “Come on. I’ll take you to see her. I want to get to know her, too, you know.”

Christy looked up at him and thought to herself that he would make a good father. If only she could work through her anxieties and trust him. If only there weren’t so many lies already between them.

The floor of the hospital devoted to nurseries and new mothers was a far cry from the sterility of the intensive care ward. Pink and blue trimmed the halls, and photographs of babies very nearly wallpapered the lobby.

Making their way to the intensive care nursery, Christy felt very maternal. Sarah was completely dependent upon her for the future. The baby girl would one day call her Mommy, and the responsibilities were overwhelming. Almost against her will, Christy lifted her face to meet Curt’s eyes.

“It’ll be all right, sweetheart,” he said softly, and Christy nodded as if that was all she needed to hear.

When they approached the intensive care nursery, Christy learned that Sarah was thriving beyond the anticipations of the doctors. Christy and Curt were given gowns to cover their street clothes, then taken to a private room in the back of the unit. The nurse soon reappeared with the isolette containing Sarah, and Christy found that she had to sit down in order to keep her knees from shaking too hard.

“Isn’t she a dolly?” the nurse said with a joyful smile. “And she’s our best patient. She’s gaining weight consistently. She’s up from four pounds, three ounces, to four-six. She’s doing so well, in fact, that you can hold her for the first time out of the incubator. The doctor said that her lungs are in excellent shape, and if she continues to grow at this rate, he’ll probably release her in a week.”

“That soon?” Christy’s voice was a squeaky whisper.

“Yes,” the nurse replied and began opening the incubator. “Now, who wants to hold her first? You, Dad?”

Christy looked up at Curt, who was staring questioningly down at her. It all seemed so right. When she nodded, Curt eagerly held out his hands for the tiny girl.

“Have a seat, Dad,” the nurse instructed. “Now Sarah can only be out of the incubator for five minutes, so you two share her. I’ll go get a bottle and let you feed her while you’re here. That always helps to bond adoptive parents with the new-borns.” The nurse waited until Curt was seated beside Christy before placing the well-wrapped baby in his arms.

Neither Curt nor Christy paid any attention to the nurse as she left the room. Their eyes were fixed on the dark-headed, ruddy infant who stared back at them with dark blue eyes.

“Oh, my,” Christy whispered and felt her heart skip a beat. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Just like her first mom and her new mom,” Curt replied. “You ready to hold her, Mommy?”

Christy swallowed hard. “I guess so.” Curt moved the tiny baby ever so gently into Christy’s arms, then lingered with his arm around Christy’s shoulder. “I never realized just what I was doing in agreeing to take her on. Oh, Curt,” she whispered in despair, “I don’t know anything about this. I don’t have the slightest idea of how to care for a baby.”

Curt smiled lovingly and ran a finger along Christy’s cheek. “We’ll learn together, just as though we awaited her for nine months. We’ll buy the books and read up. We’ll ask ques- tions, and since we don’t have to worry about money, I’d suggest a good nanny might be in order for at least the early months.” Christy nodded with a rather blank stare on her face.

“Here we are,” the nurse said, handing Christy a red-nip-pled bottle. “Sucking is hard for her still, but she gives it all she’s worth. Sarah is a fighter, for sure.”

Christy smiled. “So was her mother.”

“So are you,” Curt added.

eighteen

Curt awoke on March 31 still encouraged and content from his moments at the hospital with Christy. He remembered the way she trembled when he’d handed Sarah to her. She was so needy in those moments that she hadn’t even argued with him when he made suggestions for their future together.

Whistling to himself, Curt drove over to Christy’s, intent on making her drop whatever else she had planned to spend the day with him.

“Good morning,” he said, when Christy opened the door. She is absolutely perfect, he thought while surveying the black pleated skirt that hit just above her knees. She almost looked like a schoolgirl with the black-and-white plaid vest and white oxford blouse.

“Curt! I wasn’t expecting you,” she said in surprise.

“I know, but whatever else you were expecting to do, I want you to change it. I want you to spend the day with me.”

“But…,” Christy stammered, “I…I was…”

“I don’t want to hear it. This is a very special day, and you must be extra nice to me,” Curt said with a delightful grin.

Christy raised a brow questioningly. “Why?”

“Because it’s my birthday,” he announced.

Christy’s eyes opened wider. “Your birthday?”

“That’s right,” Curt said, feigning indignation. “I can have a birthday, can’t I?”

“I stopped at twenty-five, personally,” Christy grimaced.

“Well, today is my twenty-seventh, and I intend for you to spend it with me. How ‘bout it?”

Christy sighed. “I need to go shopping for Sarah or I would.”

“Shopping for Sarah sounds great!” Curt said with a laugh. “We can even use my credit cards.”

“No, I won’t have you paying for her things,” Christy protested.

Curt crossed his arms and gave Christy a determined stare. “Either I pay or we don’t go.”

“I’ll just go without you then,” Christy said and reached back for her purse on the foyer table.

“Nope. I won’t let you go without me, and with me, you get my credit cards. Come on, Christy. Let me do this for Sarah. I’m rich, remember?”

Christy shook her head. “You’re also very determined, stubborn, and—”

“I get the picture,” Curt replied, looping his arm through Christy’s. “It means I get to pay for everything.” The smile on his face was one of triumph.

“Fine,” Christy said, waving her free hand. “You can pay for everything. I have an entire nursery to stock, plus her wardrobe, formula, diapers, and toys. I hope you have an extensive credit line, Mr. O’Sullivan.”

“Spend to your heart’s delight, Miss Connors, and get used to it.”

“Get used to it?”

“That’s right,” Curt replied, reaching to pull the door closed behind them. “After yesterday, I intend to make myself a part of this family by any means necessary. If I can do it by wooing and charming you, I will. If I have to resort to other methods, well, let’s just say, I’ll do what I have to. I have friends in high places,” he said and looked heavenward.

Christy couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure I’m already outnumbered.”

Three hours and ten stores later, Christy and Curt sat in complete exhaustion at a small restaurant. Christy was going over an extensive list, while Curt was studying her.

“We still haven’t found a crib,” Christy noted. “We should also pick up a…” She halted when she realized he was watching her. “What? Did I spend too much already?”

Curt smiled. “I’m just happy.” Christy could tell he truly meant it. “This is the first birthday in a very long time that I’ve truly been free to enjoy myself. I’m certain it has something to do with the company.”

Christy flipped her hair over her shoulder and tried not to blush. Curt had a way of making her feel like she was a teenager again.

Curt reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “Thank you, Christy. Thank you for spending the day with me and making my birthday fun.”

Just then the waitress returned, bringing their order, and Christy used the opportunity to escape and check her makeup. Coming back to the table, she got a sudden brainstorm and cornered the waitress.

“Today is my friend’s birthday,” Christy whispered and reached inside her purse to hand the woman some money. “Bring us a cake, and if you can round up any of the staff to sing and make a big fuss over him, I’ll throw in an extra big tip.”

The waitress giggled and nodded. “I’ll get everybody out there; you just say when.”

“Wait until we’re nearly done, then sneak in from behind him,” Christy said and quickly went back to the table.

“I missed you,” Curt said lightly, when Christy sat down.

“You don’t leave me alone long enough to miss you,” Christy joked. The truth of the matter was that she was finding herself quite content with Curt’s attentiveness.

“I just don’t want you to forget me or get lonely.”

“How could I? And now that Sarah will be living with me, I won’t have time to get lonely.”

“That reminds me,” Curt said thoughtfully, “have you given thought to hiring a nanny?”

“I have, and for once, it seems that the demanding Mr. Kyle,” she paused and corrected herself, “O’Sullivan has come up with a good idea.”

“What do you mean, for once?” Curt questioned in mock dismay. “All of my ideas are good ones.”

“That’s debatable, but anyway, I intend to put Aggie to full-time, and then I’ll start interviewing nannies.”

“It won’t be easy,” Curt said between bites of food. “Sarah’s welfare will have to be considered at all cost. Speaking of costs, let’s not let that be a factor, all right?”

Christy smiled. “I have to be careful of money, even if you don’t.”

“Consider it our money,” Curt said, leaving no room for discussion as he continued. “Raising a child requires a great deal of thought. There are so many things to decide: philosophies, theologies—”

“Colleges,” Christy interrupted with a sarcastic tone to her voice.

“Right,” Curt replied seriously. “You have to plan for the future.”

“Why can’t we just get her home first and then work at it a little at a time? We could decide when things come up how we’ll react.”

Curt grinned. Christy narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“You said ‘we.’ I think you’re finally coming around to my way of thinking.”

Christy’s face grew hot. “You are absolutely impossible.”

She leaned forward and whispered. “Just remember, I haven’t said yes to anything.”

Curt appeared undaunted. “We shouldn’t wait until the horse is out of the barn to decide that closing the door every night is a good idea. After all, we have to consider the other children as well.”

“What other children?” Christy said, halting her forkful of French fries halfway to her mouth.

“Why, the children we’re going to have together. You don’t want Sarah to be an only child, do you? I mean, I always wished I had more than just one sister. You do want us to have more kids, don’t you?”

Christy was so flabbergasted by his casual reference to their future parenting that she couldn’t speak. Curt stared smug and self-assured at her reaction. He eased back in the chair and crossed his arms against his chest in a most satisfied manner.

“You can’t take me by surprise, Christy Connors. I’ll always be one step ahead of you.”

The waitress’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Christy saw them coming and burst out laughing at Curt’s statement.

“You will have to eat those words, Mr. O’Sullivan.”

Curt started to respond, but just then a huge chocolate cake was thrust in his face with a lighted taper candle stuck in the middle, awaiting his wish. The entire restaurant staff had turned out to sing “Happy Birthday.” Christy didn’t know how they managed it, but they had three helium-filled balloons, which they quickly tied to the back of Curt’s chair.

When they began to sing, Curt finally looked up at Christy, his mouth open in shock. The song finished, and everyone broke into cheers and laughter. They slapped Curt on the back, wished him a happy birthday once more, and went back to work.

“You were saying?” Christy questioned.

Curt shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll get you for this, but never mind.”

The rest of the day passed just as pleasantly as the morning. By two o’clock, they had managed to locate a beautiful Jenny Lind canopy crib. Christy fell in love with it, and in spite of the expensive price tag, Curt quickly agreed that it was a bed fit for a princess.

By five o’clock, it was clouding up, the sun was heading for the majestic backdrop of the Rockies, and Curt decided they’d better return to Christy’s house. With promised delivery of all the furniture they’d pur-chased, Curt and Christy hoisted what seemed like hundreds of bags of clothing, diapers, toys, and food into the small sports car.

“I guess I’ll need a bigger car,” Curt said casually.

“Maybe even a semi for all those kids you have planned,” Christy quipped and walked off.

Back at the house, Christy and Curt brought all their purchases inside and deposited them by the front door. Noting Christy’s weariness, Curt led her outside to the porch swing where he had first held her.

As the swing eased into a gentle rhythm, Christy let Curt pull her into his arms and lay her head upon his shoulder. She enjoyed the feeling of being cared for, and Curt was more than happy to meet her obvious need. Rocking back and forth in the fading light, Christy couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending to the perfect day. For the first time in weeks, she’d forgotten about Candy and Grant. She’d even forgotten Curt’s deceptions and why she felt she couldn’t trust him.

“You asleep?” Curt asked softly.

“No, but it’s a close call,” Christy murmured.

“You made my day very special, Christy. I enjoyed sharing it with you more than I’d even imagined.”

“Me, too,” Christy admitted in the security of his arms. “Happy birthday.”

“Christy?”

“Ummm?”

“I love you.” The simple statement filled all the loneliness in Christy’s heart.

“Yes, I know,” she whispered. “And I love you.”

Curt smiled. He’d only dreamed that she’d be willing to admit it again. They rocked in silence for several more minutes before he stopped the swing and maneuvered himself from Christy’s side.

Christy stretched and moaned in complaint of being disturbed. With her eyes still closed, she waited for Curt to say something more. When he didn’t, she opened her eyes and found him kneeling beside her.

“Marry me, Christy,” he said in an almost pleading way.

Christy stared at him for a moment.

Curt smiled. “At least promise me that you’ll think about it before you give me an answer. Unless, of course, the answer is yes. In that case, I’ll take that right now.”

Christy sat up, straightened her skirt, and tried to look very controlled and reserved. Curt laughed and got to his feet, pulling her into his arms at the same time.

“You’ll never look prim and proper, so stop trying. You’re exquisite and unique, and everything about you demands attention. I want to spend my life with you and Sarah. Promise me you’ll think about it, please.”

“I promise,” she managed to whisper.

Curt allowed himself the luxury of a long passionate kiss. Christy melted into his arms, surprising him at her eagerness. He felt his breath quicken when she wrapped her arms around his neck. If ever he doubted her attraction to him, he no longer needed to concern himself with it now.

“I’d better go,” he said hoarsely, knowing that if he didn’t leave, he’d take her in his arms again. “Don’t forget your promise.”

After Curt had gone home, Christy carried the sacks of baby clothes out to her laundry room. Other people might clothe their children right away into things they bought, but the thought of doing so made Christy cringe.

Retrieving a pair of scissors, Christy began to cut tags off the outfits and sort them out according to the washing care required for each garment. While she washed the clothes, her mind went back over the day. Curt had spent thousands of dollars on a child who didn’t even belong to him. Or did she?

Christy sighed. He wanted to marry her and be a father to Sarah. She tried to make a mental list of the pros and cons, and when her mind wouldn’t allow her to concentrate very hard on the negative things, Christy gave up. She had promised Curt that she would consider his proposal. She didn’t say how long it might take.

Turning on the television, Christy paused as the scene revealed ambulance attendants pushing a covered gurney away from a high-rise. She turned up the sound and was stunned at the announcement.

“Ben Fairchild, president of O&F Aviation was found dead this morning by members of his staff. Police are calling it a suicide, and no other further information is available to us at this time.”

Christy felt her knees weaken. Cheryl’s father was dead, and he had somehow been connected to Grant and the drugs. Had it truly been suicide, or was it murder? Swallowing hard, all Christy could think about was Sarah.

A cold chill settled on Christy and she shuddered. What if Grant were responsible? Would he kill his own child in order to get his own way?

“I’ll give him whatever he wants,” Christy said aloud. Instantly thoughts of Curt came to mind. He would need to know when Grant came for the money in order to capture him and put him in jail. Yet to involve Curt any further might threaten Sarah’s safety or Curt’s. In her mind she saw Ben Fairchild’s sheet-covered body.

“No more death,” Christy vowed. “No more.”

nineteen

Even a week later, Christy’s mind kept going back to the scene on the television. She was determined to put it behind her and believe Ben’s death to be a suicide, just as the papers were now stating it had been ruled. Surely if she could put it behind her, everything would work out and Grant wouldn’t cause her any more trouble.

Moving amid the boxes of newly delivered nursery furnishings, Christy grimaced at the idea of trying to put everything together on her own. She smiled when a thought to call Curt came to mind. Curt would just love it if I gave him this responsibility, she thought.

Before she could reconsider and stop herself, Christy picked up the phone and dialed the number she hadn’t even realized she’d memorized. After three rings, Christy was just about to hang up when a breathless-sounding Curt finally answered.

“You running a marathon?” Christy questioned lightly.

“Christy? Is that you?” Curt couldn’t contain his surprise.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she said, sounding rather grim.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Christy replied, trying hard not to smile.

“What is it? Is it Sarah? Grant?”

Christy began to giggle. Why did she all of a sudden feel so good inside? “I have a nursery full of boxes that are supposed to be made into cribs and dressers and changing tables and all manner of nifty baby conveniences.”

Curt chuckled. “Sounds bad.”

“It is,” she answered. “I can skillfully design and craft beautiful clothing, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what slot A is or where the double brace bolts go.”

Curt laughed. “Why, Miss Connors, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking for help.”

There was silence for several seconds before Christy responded. “I guess I am. Do you suppose Debbie could come over and put together this crib? Sarah’s due to come home from the hospital tomorrow, and if it’s left to me, I’ll still be trying to find the double brace bolts when the sun rises again.”

Curt smiled to himself. “Debbie’s busy. Something about an important dinner date with her real fiancé.”

“Pity. I really would have liked to talk over several things with her.”

“Oh? And just what kind of things did you have in mind?”

“Why, double brace bolts, of course,” Christy laughed.

“Of course.” Curt waited, saying nothing more.

“You aren’t going to make this easy on me, are you?” Christy finally muttered.

“Nope.” Curt’s simple reply filled her ears.

“Very well,” she said with a sigh. “Would you come over and help me put this crib together?”

“I’d be delighted,” Curt said in a formal tone that left Christy smiling. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

“Thanks. You know the way over, and I’ll do like that motel chain and leave the downstairs light on for you. I’m afraid I shall be upstairs sorting through bags of important metallic discs and little nut things and—”

“Just leave them in their little sacks and wait for me,” Curt quickly interrupted. “I’ll be right there.”

Christy didn’t have long to wait. As Curt’s sports car roared into the drive, Christy wondered whether a DEA agent could get speeding tickets fixed. Maybe if the police stopped him, Curt would just tell them he was on a case.

Waiting to open the door until he knocked, Christy suddenly felt self-conscious. Things had changed between her and Curt, and while she didn’t feel the same sense of betrayal that she once had, her feelings frightened her.

Curt knocked and without even waiting to look as though she was doing something other than standing with her hand on the doorknob, Christy opened the door in welcome.

“Hello,” Christy said rather shyly.

“Hello.” His voice was soft and warm, and Christy immediately felt her heart beat faster. Curt came into the house, and when Christy did nothing but stand there, he asked, “So where’s the nursery?”

“At the head of the stairs,” she announced and led the way.

Opening the door opposite her bedroom, she went to where the instructions for the crib lay, with four bags of bolts, nuts, and other pieces that she couldn’t name. Picking them up, she thrust them into Curt’s hands.

“I defy you to find the double brace bolts,” she said with as much reserve as she could.

Curt laughed, glanced for a moment at the instructions, then at the bag, and finally held up the smallest of the four. “These, my dear Christy, are double brace bolts.”

Christy looked at the drawing on the instruction page, then back to the bag, and returned her gaze to Curt’s amused face. “Dumb luck,” she replied and went in the direction of the door. “You create the crib. I’ll go get us some refreshments.”

“You sure you can cook?” Curt teased.

Christy popped her head back around the door. “You mean to tell me that you plan to spend the rest of your life with me, and you still don’t believe I can cook?” She hadn’t really meant to refer to his marriage proposal, but the words spilled out before she could check them.

Curt’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he dropped the bags of bolts and instructions and came to the doorway. “I figured it wasn’t as important as other things I already knew you were good at.”

“Such as?”

“I already know that you can sew like a dream,” he smiled. “And you can handle a caterer with the greatest of ease, and you wear expensive clothes better than anyone I know.”

Christy feigned a look of disgust. “You’re hopeless. You know nothing about me except for what your DEA dossier tells you.” She started to walk away, but Curt quickly pulled her back.

“My files didn’t tell me what a great kisser you are,” he said and lowered his lips quickly to hers before she could protest.

Christy melted against him and sighed. She wanted to forget all her fears. She wanted to give in and tell Curt that she would marry him.

Curt pulled away, and Christy opened her eyes to find him staring down thoughtfully at her expression. “I can always hire a cook.”

Christy smiled and pushed him away playfully. “And I can hire a crib builder, and I will if you don’t get back to work.”

The evening passed in a state of near perfection, as far as Christy was concerned. Curt continued to tease and joke about her kitchen skills, but when he tried her almond cheesecake, he stopped laughing and had seconds.

They worked well together, putting not only the crib into sturdy order, but the dressing table, baby swing, and bassinet, as well. Curt finally noticed that it was nearly eleven o’clock and held up his hands to halt their operation.

“Enough for tonight. What we haven’t finished, we can do tomorrow after we bring her home.”

Christy yawned and agreed, making her way to the door.

Arm in arm, they walked down the staircase, enjoying the quiet moment together. Curt started to kiss Christy, when the telephone rang.

Christy made her way to the sitting room to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Christy, it’s Grant.” The color drained from Christy’s face, and she hoped that Curt wouldn’t pick up on her sudden trembling. She turned away, praying that Curt would just ignore her and think the call was something private, which of course it was.

“Yes,” she finally managed. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you have my money?”

“I think so,” she answered carefully.

“Sarah is being released tomorrow, you know. I have the lawyer’s papers right here in front of me, and I’ll be happy to sign them, but not before I see the money. I’ll come over in the morning and—”

“No!” Christy exclaimed a bit more harshly than she’d intended. “I mean, that wouldn’t work for me.”

“Then where?” Grant questioned irritably.

“I’m not sure,” she answered softly. “Why don’t you call me in the morning?”

“All right, but don’t think about pulling anything stupid, or I’ll take Sarah.”

“Of course, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good-bye.” Christy replaced the phone with trembling hands. She bolstered her courage and turned to face Curt, who was admiring a Victorian vase.

“Planning another wedding dress?” Curt questioned without looking up from the ornate rosebud vase.

“Something like that,” Christy replied. “It’s late, Curt. I think you’d better go.” The playfulness was gone from her voice.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He replaced the vase on the Queen Anne table and walked to the door with Christy close behind him.

Pausing, Curt surprised Christy by turning to take her in his arms. Christy closed her eyes, anticipating a kiss, but Curt did nothing until she opened her eyes. Then just as suddenly as he’d held her, he released her and walked out the door.

Christy followed him outside and stood at the top of the porch stairs. At the bottom step, with something between sorrow and anger in his eyes, Curt spoke. “Sooner or later,” he said stiffly, “you’re going to learn to trust me. I’m not a fool, Christy. People don’t call at this hour of the night to arrange for a wedding dress.” With that, he walked to his car and drove away, leaving Christy feeling as though she were a small child who had just received a reprimand.

Aching to explain, Christy sighed deeply and went back inside. Dear God, she prayed silently, locking the door and turning off the downstairs lights, how can I tell him? How can I allow Curt to get in the middle of this thing?

After a restless night, Christy awoke to the telephone ringing. Her house might as well be Grand Central Station for all the endless interruptions. Certain that it would be Grant, Christy was stunned when one of the nurses she’d become well-acquainted with at the hospital spoke from the other end.

“Christy, I just wanted to call and let you know that Sarah’s father picked her up a few minutes ago.”

Christy felt as though she was going to be ill. Had she truly heard the woman correctly? “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I was so surprised, but he had all the correct identification. I figured he must have changed his mind about raising her. I just wanted to call and make sure you were all right. I know how much you were looking forward to taking Sarah home.”

“Thanks,” Christy whispered, trying to wipe away tears and sleep from her eyes. She hung up the phone without waiting for the woman to say anything more. Grant had Sarah! Now the real waiting game would begin.

Christy flew into action. She got dressed as fast as she could and hurriedly put her makeup on before rushing downstairs to get her bankbook. She had to get Grant’s money before he called and expected the exchange. She was nearly out the door when Curt appeared.

“Going somewhere?” he asked casually, then continued, “Of course you are. Sarah’s coming home today. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Christy said rather abruptly.

“You aren’t going to punish me because I forced your hand last night, are you?”

Christy felt her breath quicken. If she didn’t hurry and get to the bank, Grant might call while she was out, and she would miss knowing where they were to meet. “I’m not upset with you!”

“You sound upset,” Curt replied softly. “What’s wrong, Christy?”

Christy wanted so badly to break down and tell Curt everything. But fear won out, and she shook her head.

“I have to go somewhere, and I need to do it quickly. I can’t pick up Sarah until later,” she lied, while telling herself it wasn’t a lie because she didn’t know when Grant would allow her to exchange Sarah for the money.

“I could drive you,” Curt insisted.

“No, I—” The phone rang and broke Christy’s train of thought as she jumped. Hurrying back into the house, she picked up the phone.

“Do you have it?” Grant questioned.

“Yes,” she said, “at least I will. I have to stop by the bank.” She didn’t realize until she felt Curt’s hands on her shoulders that he had followed her into the house.

“I’ll expect you at ten,” Grant told her and gave her instruc- tions to a nearby shopping mall.

“I understand,” Christy replied and hung the phone up. Curt’s hands felt like heavy weights. Weights of truth and trust that threatened to unnerve her reasoning.

Relying on old modeling skills, Christy turned with a smile fixed on her face. “I really have to go, Curt. I’ll see you later and then maybe you can help me get Sarah.” Her hands were shaking, so she held them together tightly, hoping that Curt wouldn’t notice.

“All right, Christy. I’ll come back later.”

Christy nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and waited until Curt’s car was well down the road before heading out to her own car. Then, just as she started to back up, a delivery truck pulled up to the end of her driveway and blocked her exit.

“You Ms. Connors?” the deliveryman questioned.

“Yes,” Christy replied, getting out of the car. “Look, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Can I help you?”

“I have a delivery here for you. Just sign on the line,” he said, handing her a small computerized tablet and marking pen.

Christy signed and handed the machine back to the man, shaking her head. “I don’t remember any shipment being due in. Can you tell me what it is?”

The man punched something into the computer. “Looks like material from Ireland.”

“But that should have been shipped to New York, not here,” Christy protested. “I have a warehouse waiting for this.”

“I can’t help that, ma’am. I have to leave it here with you. Just show me where.”

Christy threw up her hands in exasperation. “All right,” she said, fumbling for her house key. “Bring it inside, but please hurry.”

twenty

Christy barely made it to the designated place by the appointed time. She glanced nervously up and down the corridor of the busy shopping mall. Where was Grant? It only took a moment before he appeared, and when he did, Christy’s chest constricted in fear. Sarah was not with him.

“Did you get my money?” he questioned.

“Yes, but where’s Sarah?”

“She’s safe. For now that’s all you need to know.” Grant casually toyed with his sunglasses.

“That’s not good enough,” Christy protested and hugged the briefcase of money close. “You can’t have this money without giving me Sarah and the paperwork that gives her to me legally.”

Grant considered his sister-in-law for a moment, then stuffed the sunglasses into his pocket and took hold of Christy’s upper arm.

“You will listen to me and do just as I tell you; otherwise, you will never see Sarah.”

Christy cringed at Grant’s touch and words, but nevertheless let him lead her to a small bench.

“What do you want? I brought the money, and I’ve already paid for all of the hospital and funeral expenses,” Christy said in an exasperated whisper.

“You have a shipment that I need,” Grant began to explain. “I don’t know what all Candy told you, but if I knew my little wife the way I think I did, then I’m certain she told you everything about me. Is that true?”

Christy nodded. “I know about the drugs, if that’s what you mean.”

Grant’s face tightened uncomfortably for a moment. “That’s ex-actly what I mean.” He glanced around as if expecting someone to be watching them. Grant returned his stare to Christy’s nervous face. “You haven’t told anyone else about me, have you?”

Christy knew that Sarah’s safety would depend on her answer. She could feel her palms grow damp with sweat. Slowly, with as much confidence as she could muster, Christy faced Grant. “Who would I tell? Erik? Like he isn’t devastated enough with losing Candy. They were quite close, you know. This won’t be something he gets over quickly. I couldn’t burden him with the fact that you’re the local drug czar.”

Grant laughed softly, and he put his arm around Christy as though they were lovers, not mortal enemies. When Christy tried to pull away, Grant pressed his hand painfully against her shoulder. “Stay put and listen. I don’t want this to appear to anyone else as anything less than an intimate moment.”

Christy settled down. This is for Sarah, she reminded herself.

“Good,” he murmured against her ear. “Now listen carefully. Have you received a shipment that you weren’t expecting?”

Christy nodded, unable to speak. Her throat felt as though it were about to swell shut. She fought to control her emotions, but fear was quickly edging out all other thoughts and feelings.

Grant was running his hand down her arm in a much-too-familiar manner. “The shipment was intended for your warehouse in New York, correct?” Again, Christy nodded. “That’s what I thought. Somewhere along the way, this particular crate was accidently rerouted to you here. It contains a great deal of high-grade cocaine, and it belongs to me.”

Christy felt as though she couldn’t breathe. A priceless shipment of cocaine was sitting in her storeroom, a DEA agent was looking at every turn for some way he could lay his hand on the killer of his parents, and a tiny helpless infant was the only bargaining chip offered.

“I want my goods, Christy. Until I get them, you can’t have Sarah.”

“I certainly don’t want your drugs. Come get them and bring me Sarah!” Christy exclaimed.

“No, you could easily arrange for someone to be there. You go home and get the stuff loaded into your car. I’ll call you just before we’re to meet, and if you dare to try and cross me up, you’ll never see Sarah again. Understand?”

Christy felt angrier than she’d ever been, but she clenched her jaw tightly and nodded.

“Good, now hand over the money and—”

“Oh, no,” Christy said, clutching the case closer. “You’ll get the money and the drugs when I get my niece safely and legally delivered. You’d better make sure those papers are in order,” Christy added and got to her feet before Grant could protest. “Because if they aren’t, I’ll torch your shipment bit by bit, until I get what I want.”

Grant looked stunned, and Christy felt better just knowing she had something of importance to hold over his head.

“And I want you out of my business affairs,” she snapped, not caring who heard her in the passing mall traffic. “You know what I mean, and I’ll expect results immediately.” She turned to leave, but Grant caught her arm and turned her back around.

“You may think you’re a brave little girl, Christy, but I’m the one with the real power. Power, money, and enough dangerous friends that you could be killed before you ever knew what happened.”

Christy nodded. “I know all of that Grant, and I’m not at all brave,” she admitted. “I do, however, love Sarah, and I want to make a good life for her. You can’t possibly hate her so much that you don’t care where she ends up or with whom, do you?”

Grant shrugged. “It’s immaterial to me. I never wanted a child, and I told Candy that. Now I’m telling you. It really doesn’t matter if she ends up with you or with someone else. I just want my shipment and money. Be a good girl and do what I say, and I’ll be cooperative and let you have Sarah. Otherwise…” He let the word trail into oblivion, but Christy fully understood his meaning.

The drive home seemed to take forever, but once there, Christy quickly raced through the house to the storeroom, never taking time to close the front door.

She eyed the crate suspiciously, then took a crowbar to it and pried off the lid. The first few layers were devoted to packing materials and Irish lace. Beneath that, however, were neatly placed rows of brown paper-wrapped packages the size of bricks. Christy picked one up and tore the paper away to reveal her worst fears. Slamming the package back in the crate, Christy steadied herself against a nearby chair. What was she going to do? This was even worse than giving Grant the money, because now he was making her a part of his drug trafficking.

“The door was open, and I thought maybe something was wrong,” Curt said from the doorway.

Christy shrieked, calmed herself, then quickly pulled the lid to the crate back in place.

Curt came forward with a frown. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

“I…I’m…it’s just that…” Christy gave up and tried to settle her nerves.

Curt reached out and took Christy’s face in his hands.

“What’s wrong, Christy?”

“Nothing.” She looked away.

“You’re lying to me,” he said softly. “Trust me, Christy. I love you, remember?”

Christy felt a lifetime of regret wash over her. If she couldn’t trust Curt, then how could she love him? And she did love him. She loved him so much it broke her heart to think of losing him.

“Where’s Sarah?”

“Huh?” Christy questioned dumbly. She was standing between a DEA officer and millions of dollars’ worth of cocaine. How could she possibly think of Sarah?

“You remember, Sarah?” Curt said in low even tones. His calm was driving Christy crazy. She couldn’t tell him about Grant’s demands. She couldn’t tell him about the drugs. Weren’t DEA officers required to turn over such evidence? And if he did, she wouldn’t have what Grant wanted, and he would take Sarah away.

“Sarah’s at the hospital,” Christy lied and saw something akin to sorrow wash over Curt’s expression. She began to tremble in earnest as his hands slid down from her face to her shoulders.

“No, she’s not,” Curt replied. “Grant has her.”

“Wha…what? How did you…I mean…” Christy paused as if waiting for an answer and saw that none was coming. “How did you find out?” she finally managed to question.

Curt refused to release her. “The phone is tapped. It has been for some time.” His words were matter-of-fact but couldn’t have stunned Christy more. Of course! she thought. How foolish of her not to realize that Curt would have taken such a measure. She wanted to be angry at him for the intrusion but instead felt relieved that he knew. What he didn’t know about were the drugs because she’d never talked about the drugs over the telephone.

Curt watched the color drain from her face. “I just want to help you. Can’t you believe me? Can’t you trust me just a little, Christy?” His voice was pleading, and Christy couldn’t take the pressure anymore.

“I’m so sorry, Curt.” She began to cry, and Curt pulled her into his arms.

“It’s all right. I guess I’d have done the same thing if I thought someone I loved was in danger. Caring for someone and seeing them hurt makes you do strange things. I’m proof of that.”

“I didn’t know until this morning,” Christy whispered between sobs. “I wanted to tell you, but…” She stopped and pulled away. “Curt, I’m so scared.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I’m here to help. I want to put Grant away permanently, and then you’ll never need to worry about Sarah again. We can work this out together, but you have to help me. Have you given Grant the money yet?”

“No,” Christy said, shaking her head.

“But you did meet him?”

“Yes,” Christy admitted hesitantly, “but he did not have Sarah with him.”

“Where was she?”

“I don’t know. Curt, please,” she said, reaching out to take hold of his muscular arms. “I’m afraid if you interfere with this, he’ll leave the country and take her away. He might even hurt her; he might hurt you. Please, Curt. Please don’t interfere. I’ll do anything you want. Anything!”

Curt eyed her carefully. “Anything?”

Christy nodded. “Yes. Anything! I don’t want you to get killed. I’ll marry you or whatever else you say, but please…” She began crying so hard she couldn’t speak.

Curt pulled her close and waited for her to calm down before he spoke again.

“There is only one way this can work out, Christy,” Curt said softly against her ear. “And that is if you love me enough to trust me with your life and Sarah’s. I know it won’t be easy, but I’ve come to love that little girl, too, and I won’t see her hurt. As for my own well-being, I kind of like the idea of sticking around to marry you, but not because you don’t have a choice in the matter. I want you to marry me because you can’t imagine life any other way. I want you to marry me because it fulfills all your dreams and needs and desires.”

Christy gripped him tightly, almost afraid to let go for fear he’d never again hold her. Grant would kill him; she just knew it.

As if reading her mind, Curt spoke again, “I’m good at my job, Christy. I’ve been at it for a long time. I can handle Grant and anyone else who comes between us. God has destined me to find my parents’ killers, but He’s also destined me to love you.”

Christy drew a ragged breath. “I don’t know enough about God to understand what He wants me to do.”

“Then pray about it and trust your heart to do the right thing. God is righteous and good. There is no lie or deception in Him. He wants us to emulate Him, so there can be no lie or deception in His will for us.”

Christy looked up into Curt’s face and knew he was right. She had to take the plunge and step out in faith. She had to trust God and trust the man she loved.

“All right,” she said, struggling to gain confidence. “What do you want me to do?”

Curt sighed in satisfaction. “Tell me what Grant wants you to do. Tell me where you’re to meet him and when.”

twenty-one

Christy began to shake so hard that Curt pulled her back over to the chair, sat himself down in it, and pulled her to his lap. “I’m supposed to wait for his phone call,” Christy said be-tween chattering teeth.

Curt nodded, acting as though they had all the time in the world.

Christy continued, “I have his money, and I’ve already paid all the hospital and funeral bills.”

“Were those also part of his demands?”

Christy nodded. “He wanted the money so he could leave and start over.”

“Did he want anything else?” Curt asked, never taking his eyes from Christy’s tear-streaked face.

Christy thought for a moment, realizing that she needed to ex-plain the drugs to Curt. She and Grant had only discussed them at the mall, not over the telephone. Curt might have monitored every single call she’d received, but he couldn’t possibly know about her conversation at the mall. She hesitated, wanting to tell him, but knowing that if she did and he didn’t allow her to meet Grant, Sarah would be lost to her forever.

She searched his face for a moment, looking for something that would tell her what she should do. Curt’s eyes were filled with love and patience, and Christy wanted to wrap her arms around him and forget all about Grant and Sarah.

“Christy,” Curt spoke her name in a low, hypnotic way. “You can’t trust a man like Grant to live by his word. Whatever he’s promised you, whatever he’s demanded, you have to realize that he’s dangerous and evil. Men like him never play by our kind of rules. Chances are better than not you’ll show up with his money, and he’ll leave you with nothing.”

Christy started to protest, but Curt put a finger to her lips.

“I’ve dealt with Grant’s kind before. He’ll use Sarah as long as he can benefit by it. What’s to keep him from returning from time to time to demand more money from you? This isn’t the end of anything,” Curt said in a voice betraying weariness. “It’s only the beginning.”

“But he promised,” Christy finally remarked.

“Sure he did, honey,” Curt said gently. “Look, I know you want to believe him, but ask yourself why you should. I know I’ve deceived you in the past, Christy, but everything is on the level now. I only did what I did because of the investigation. I didn’t know you then—even if I was falling in love with you. I’m not lying to you anymore. I risked it all to confide in you, to solicit your help. Please, Christy, tell me everything. Did Grant demand anything else?”

Christy realized the moment she’d dreaded had finally come. To continue, she would either have to lie to Curt and betray her love for him, or she’d have to tell him about the drugs and hope that he’d help her. Dear God, she prayed silently, please show me what to do.

Christy got to her feet and walked over to the crate. Struggling with her emotions, she paused. Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside the lid and looked back at Curt.

“He wants this, too,” she whispered. “It seems there’s a great deal of cocaine in here, and Grant says it belongs to him.”

Curt got to his feet, his eyes penetrating Christy’s heart with their warmth and admiration. “I know,” he said with a bit of a smile.

“You knew?”

“Yeah,” Curt nodded. “In fact, I arranged it.” He reached out and touched her face with his fingers. “Thank you for trusting me, Christy. I love you so much, and now I know you really love me, too.”

Christy threw her arms around his neck. “Of course I really love you, but what are we going to do?” she questioned fearfully. “Grant says I’m to pack the drugs in my car and meet him later. He’s going to call me, and if I don’t do everything he says, Sarah could get hurt.”

“Christy, I want you to listen to me,” Curt began. “The DEA is going to work with you on this exchange, and maybe, if we all do exactly as we’ve planned it out, nobody will get hurt, and Grant will go to prison for a very long time. Are you with me on this?”

Christy refused to lift her head from his shoulder, but she nodded. “Then I want to go over every detail of this with you. There will be a lot of lives at stake, not just Sarah’s. I’m not at all happy about letting you participate in this exchange,” Curt said, and Christy jerked away from him at this.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Curt quickly hushed her. “I know you have to be involved. I don’t have to like it, though. Just as you’re feeling rather protective of my life, I feel five hundred times more protective of yours. I’ve had training, and I know how ruthless these people can be. You haven’t, and you don’t know the ropes the way I do.”

Christy realized that Curt was right. She would have to listen and learn, right down to the most minute detail, in order to keep blood from being shed. Blood that could be Curt’s.

“Tell me what I need to do,” she said softly. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Curt smiled and gave her a wink. “Just keep thinking that way, and when this is all over, I’m going to cash in on those promises.” Then taking her hand, he led her from the room. “The plan goes like this…”

Christy had just finished loading her car with the drugs in just the way Curt had instructed her when the ominous ring of the telephone signaled Grant’s call.

“Do you have my stuff?” Grant asked, not even bothering to identify himself.

“Yes,” Christy said nervously.

“Good. Meet me back at the mall, south side. Be there at four sharp.” Before Christy could respond, Grant disconnected.

Christy turned back to Curt, who sat on the sofa, calmly waiting for her to tell him everything Grant had said. “I’m to meet him at the mall at four.”

“Same mall? Same place?” Curt questioned.

Christy looked surprised for a moment and Curt smiled. “I heard the first arrangement on tape, and I wasn’t about to let you meet that man without protection. I was only about fifty feet away when Grant made you sit with him on the bench.” He frowned at the memory. “I nearly blew my cover when he pulled you into his arms.”

Christy laughed out loud, a nervous laugh that betrayed her fear and anxiety, but helped to relieve her tension. “I should have known. You and God,” she mused. “Neither one of you will let me wander far, will you?”

Curt got up and closed the space between them. “Not on your life, Christy.” He kissed her soundly, then pointed Christy in the direction of the old railroad wall clock. “We have an hour and forty-five minutes. Wanna cuddle on the porch swing?”

Christy laughed and pushed away. “No!” she stated emphatically. “I want to wash all this mess off my face and start over with fresh makeup. Seems like I’ve spent the last few weeks crying day and night.” She wiped under her eyes, knowing she probably looked a mess. “Then I want to eat something, because I feel like I might get sick if I don’t. Then, if there’s still time, I might sit with you on the swing, Mr. O’Sullivan.”

Curt grinned. “I’ll make lunch.”

“I thought I proved to you that I could cook.”

“You did, but I figure if I fix lunch while you fix your makeup, we’ll have more time on the swing.”

Christy rolled her eyes, but Curt noticed that she wasted very little time scurrying up the stairs.

As soon as she was gone from sight, Curt’s grin faded and a look of worry crossed his features. Quickly he picked up the phone and dialed his team members.

“Debbie, it’s Curt. I take it you heard Burks’s call,” he said when his partner answered the phone.

“I heard. What about Christy? Is she with us on this?”

“Yes. She showed me the drugs and told me everything Grant had demanded of her. She’s going to be okay,” Curt replied. “She loves me, Debbie.”

“I never would have guessed,” Debbie said in mock sarcasm. Curt could imagine her smiling face as she continued. “A woman would have to be made of granite not to give in to a man who pursued her as hard as you have, Curt.”

“Well, I suppose I was rather enthusiastic. Anyway, the plan goes as scheduled. I’ll instruct Christy where to park. You know her car; the drugs will be in the trunk. Better get our hospitality team to update Denver P.D. while this goes down.”

“You got it,” Debbie answered confidently. “Oh, Curt,” she added hesitantly, “be careful.”

“I’ll most certainly do that. I’ve made it to twenty-seven, and now I have a woman who loves me and a baby who needs me. I’ve got too much at stake.”

Curt hung up the phone and went to the kitchen. After putting the coffee maker to work, he pulled out wheat bread and mustard and put together roast beef and swiss sandwiches, just the way he’d once seen Christy do for herself. He was cutting a cantaloupe into slices when Christy walked into the room.

“I feel famished,” she admitted and plopped down on the kitchen bar stool. “I suppose you’re used to all this and it doesn’t phase you much anymore, but this sneaking around detective work, isn’t for me. I’d gain forty pounds in a month.”

Curt laughed and put a plate of food in front of her. “You could stand a little meat on your bones.” He grabbed his own plate and joined her. “The coffee will be done in just a minute. Why don’t we pray?”

Christy nodded and bowed her head, waiting for Curt to speak. “Would you mind saying the blessing, Christy?”

She lifted her face for just a moment and met Curt’s eyes. “I’m not sure I know what to say.”

“Just speak your heart. God honors that kind of prayer over all the rhetoric and memorized poetry in the world,” Curt replied and closed his eyes.

Christy bowed her head again and opened her heart. “Dear God,” she whispered, “I ask You to bless the food, but even more I ask You to bless the people who are trying to help me. I ask that You guard them and protect them from Grant and his evil ways. I want so much for everything to work out. God, please don’t let Sarah be harmed. And God,” she paused, “please keep Curt safe. Don’t let Grant hurt him, because I love him, and I intend to see to it that he marries me like he keeps asking me to do. Amen.”

Curt coughed, trying to cover his amusement with Christy’s statement. “I take it that was a yes,” he mused.

Christy looked at him for a moment. “Yes.”

“You’re really going to marry me when this is all said and done?”

“Yes.” She didn’t even blink.

“And you’re going to love me forever and give me lots of beautiful children who look just like you?” he grinned.

“Yes,” she sighed.

“Good,” he replied in a rather clipped, smug way. “Just so we have that straight.” He had his sandwich halfway to his mouth when he glanced over and met Christy’s determined stare.

“You are going to be careful, aren’t you? You aren’t going to play the hero and try for this to be movie-of-the-week material, are you?”

Curt put the sandwich down and reached out to take Christy’s hand. “I’m going to be more careful than I ever have been in my life. Because until now, I really didn’t care if I stayed on this earth or went on to live with God in heaven. But now I do, and I want to get old with you.”

Christy let out a sigh of relief and glanced at her watch. Then with a mischievous smile, she began wolfing down her sandwich. She wasn’t about to spend time worrying, not when the porch swing awaited them.

The calm and peace passed much too quickly, and soon Christy found herself waiting at the south mall entrance for Grant to appear. She fidgeted with her briefcase and wondered how she would ever manage to remain calm. Curt had wired her with a minimum of audio equipment so that he and the other team members could keep track of what was going on. It was imperative that she act as if nothing were amiss.

“You’re right on time,” Grant said, sneaking in behind her.

Christy nearly jumped a foot. She turned with an angry retort on her lips, but found Grant’s arms once again empty.

“Where’s Sarah?”

“She’s outside in the car with a friend,” Grant replied.

“I want to see her,” Christy insisted. “And I want those papers.”

Grant patted his pocket and pulled the papers out. “They’re all signed, nice and legal. I told you, I don’t want the brat. I just want the money and my drugs. You did bring both, I presume?”

“Yes,” Christy replied. “I have the money here, but the drugs, of course, are in the trunk of my car.”

“Good. Let’s go get them,” he suggested and put his hand on Christy’s arm.

“No. Not until I have Sarah,” she demanded. “You may have the money now, and I’ll take those papers. Then when you produce Sarah, I’ll take you to my car and turn over the keys.”

Grant frowned at her forceful attitude. “It isn’t wise to try my patience, Christy.”

“Nor is it wise to play me for a fool, Grant. I’m done playing games.” She stared at him hard. “Now do we do this my way, or do I drive that shipment of coke to the nearest police station?”

“It’s of little consequence to me that you have Sarah first, last, or never. But my friend knows nothing about this deal. She’s innocent of everything, and you’d better not say a word to make it seem that we are doing anything out of the ordinary. I told her we were baby-sitting.”

Christy nodded and extended the briefcase. “Give me the papers. I want to look at them before we leave the mall.”

Grant did as Christy demanded, but glared at her severely. “You are testing me sorely, Christy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalling. You did bring the drugs, didn’t you?”

Christy reviewed the papers and smiled. Grant’s signature was in place, and all the copies had been properly notarized. Sarah would soon belong to her.

“I’m ready to go,” Christy replied. “As soon as I have Sarah, I will take you to my car. And,” she added with a strained smile, “I won’t let your friend know that anything out of the ordinary is taking place.”

twenty-two

Christy had never been more afraid in her life. Her hands were trembling and sweat beaded up on her temples. Somewhere in the parking lot were a tiny, innocent baby and the man she loved. Glancing up at Grant, Christy grimaced. Here was the one person who could take both of them away from her.

Grant approached the black Porsche with determined strides. “Re-member what I said, Christy,” he murmured. “She doesn’t know anything about this.”

Christy bit her tongue to keep from making a nasty remark. She had to keep peace until Sarah was safe and Curt had his chance to capture Grant. Silently she walked just behind Grant, keeping pace and watching for his slightest move.

Grant reached for the door just as it opened, and Christy was stunned to find Cheryl Fairchild sitting in the passenger seat, holding Sarah. The baby was sleeping soundly, oblivious to the dangerous scene that she was a vital part of.

“Christy!” Cheryl exclaimed. “What in the world are you doing here?”

Grant raised a silencing brow over Cheryl’s head and Christy swallowed hard. “I’m here for Sarah,” she said in a slow, deliberate way.

Cheryl looked down at the baby and back up to her wedding dress designer. “Do you know Stratton’s sister-in-law?” she questioned.

“I beg your pardon?” Christy was momentarily stunned at

Cheryl’s reference to Grant as Stratton. What was it Curt had told her?

“I, uh,” Christy stammered, while all reasonable thought left her mind. She looked down at Cheryl’s petite face and felt instant pity for the woman. She knew Cheryl obviously loved Grant by the way she was looking up at him with those huge, trusting eyes.

“Stratton?” Cheryl questioned. “What’s going on? I thought you said we were watching the baby for your sister-in-law.”

Grant reached down and pulled the baby from Cheryl’s arms. “We are,” he replied, taking the blanket that Cheryl held out. He wrapped it haphazardly around Sarah, while she slept on.

“But, what about this?” Cheryl questioned. The confusion was clearly etched in her features, and Christy wished she could somehow ease Cheryl’s worry. “I know Christy doesn’t have any children, so whose baby is Sarah?”

“It isn’t anything you need to worry about, Cheryl,” Grant said rather brusquely. “Stay here. I have to go with Christy to her car.”

Cheryl was obviously hurt by Grant’s indifference to her concern. She started to say something, but Grant slammed the car door in her face and nudged Christy forward.

“Where are you parked?” he asked, holding Sarah away from Christy’s reaching hands.

“Over there,” Christy motioned. “Please give me the baby.”

“In due time,” Grant said with a sneer on his face. “I wouldn’t want you getting jumpy and running out on me. Not with so much at stake.” He paused for a moment, looking down at Christy rather intently. “You know, you really are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. We could still have a good time together, Christy.” His leering eyes made Christy shudder, and Grant only laughed. “What’s the matter, Christy? Not good enough for you?”

“Never!” Christy hissed. “You’ll never be anything but trouble to any woman who is stupid enough to care for you. Look what you’ve done to Candy and now Cheryl. Even poor Sarah has been wounded by you.”

Grant looked hard at Christy for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s just the way things are,” he said without emotion. “Now move out. I want to make certain you fulfilled your part of the bargain.”

Christy moved across the rows of cars, wishing that she had Sarah in her arms. Before Grant opened the trunk of her car, she’d have to insist on the transfer, otherwise it would ruin Curt’s plans.

They approached her vehicle slowly, and Christy had to force herself not to look around for Curt’s reassuring face. Stopping at the rear of her car, Christy turned and held up her keys.

“It’s in the trunk. You can have the keys, but I’ll take Sarah.”

Grant considered the situation, then handed the baby over to Christy and snatched the keys. Christy was almost stupefied that it had all happened so smoothly. Inching her way back along the side of the car, all Christy could think of was how she had to put some distance between her and Grant.

“Which key is it?” Grant questioned.

Christy froze in place. “The round one,” she whispered.

“You’re going to have to help me transfer this stuff,” he said, searching for the right key.

“Why don’t you just take my car?” Christy more stated than questioned. “I promise to wait at least twenty-four hours before I report it missing. In fact, if you’ll just call and tell me where it’s at, I won’t even call it in.” Christy knew she was rambling, but she had to restore some semblance of order to her mind. The chattering seemed to almost calm her into sensibility again.

Grant inserted the key and the trunk lid lifted smoothly. “Ah, yes!” he exclaimed and reached inside to inspect the cocaine. Picking up one of the wrapped packages, Grant tore off the end, played with the contents for a moment, then slipped the package into his coat pocket.

Christy was finally able to think and, as planned, moved rapidly away from the car and disappeared behind a nearby trash dumpster. Trembling from head to toe, Christy got down on the ground and covered Sarah with her body, just as Curt had instructed her.

She heard Grant call her name, and then Curt’s voice rang out loud and clear.

“Drug Enforcement—you’re under arrest! Put up your hands and back away from the car!”

Christy cowered in desperate fear. All she could do was pray. There was no way of knowing what else was happening. She couldn’t see anything, and the not knowing was driving her insane.

Silence engulfed the parking lot. Christy could very nearly hear her own breathing above the routine noise that she knew must be taking place. Thankfully, Sarah continued to sleep.

Christy stared down at the slumbering form of her niece. No, she thought to herself, Sarah is my daughter now. Curt’s voice brought her back to what was happening.

“Burks, I’m not going to tell you again. Back away from that car and put up your hands.”

Curt’s voice sounded louder, and Christy could only imagine that he had come out from wherever he’d been hiding. Dear God, she prayed, keep him safe. Don’t let him get careless in his desire to avenge his parents’ death.

Curt eyed the back of Grant Burks intently. He held a 9 mm pistol at eye level and moved cautiously forward. This man was the reason CJ had suffered so much. This man had killed his parents and threatened the woman he loved. This man was scum and deserved to die. All reasoning left Curt as he felt his finger tighten on the trigger.

Without warning, Grant turned quickly and in doing so brought a small caliber revolver up and pointed it at Curt. Just then a woman screamed and Curt glanced aside briefly, fearing it was Christy. Cheryl Fairchild was running across the parking lot.

“No! No!” she screamed over and over.

“Cheryl?” Curt said, taking his concentration from Burks. Grant took the moment of Curt’s surprise to fire a shot.

Curt instantly reacted and fired, as did several of the other agents. Bullets hit Grant’s body, leaving tiny red stains across his midsection. He stood in shock for several moments, then raised the gun at Curt again, only this time Cheryl was in the way. She looked torn between the two men, then seeing that her fiancé was bleeding, she moved toward him just as he fired the gun twice.

Curt rushed at Cheryl like a linebacker in a critical play. Shots rang out over their heads, and Grant fell to the ground as Curt rolled with Cheryl, taking the full impact of both bodies as they hit the pavement.

Cheryl moaned once, then grew silent and still. Curt heard Debbie declare Grant disarmed. He eased Cheryl away from him. She was bleeding badly from an abdominal wound, while a thin but steady stream of blood poured from a shot she’d taken in the head.

“I need help here,” Curt declared, pulling Cheryl onto her back. He straightened her body out before pushing up the bloodstained sweater.

Debbie was at his side instantly. “Ambulance is on its way.

They were just on the other side of the parking lot, waiting for our signal.”

Curt nodded. “She’s pregnant,” he said and glanced up at Debbie with serious eyes. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered. Sirens in the background brought Curt to his feet.

“Christy!” he said and glanced around. She was nowhere in sight.

Debbie put her hand on Curt. “You’re wounded!” she said, realizing for the first time that he’d taken a bullet in the arm.

Grant was writhing and crying out from his wounds, catching Curt’s attention. How could he still be alive? Ignoring Debbie’s concern for his welfare, Curt moved to where other members of the DEA were working to save Grant’s life.

Curt knelt down and caught Grant’s eye. “I’m putting an end to this,” Curt said with only a moderate amount of satisfaction. Frank had once told him that revenge was a poor substitute for the loss of someone you loved. Frank was right.

Grant stared at Curt with blank eyes. “An end to what?” He barely breathed the question.

Curt’s face held a tight register of anger and sadness. “You and the O&F Aviation drug ring. You killed my parents—or maybe you don’t remember Doug and Jan O’Sullivan and the plane you or your people sabotaged. They were my parents, and my little sister was on the plane as well.”

“I remember,” Grant replied, then laughed a hoarse, dying laugh. “Fairchild said to just shake them up. I guess I did more than shake, aghhh.” Grant grabbed at his bleeding abdomen. “Too bad you weren’t in that plane, too,” he gasped, and then grew still. Grant Burks was dead.

“You’d better go to Christy,” Debbie stated. “She needs you, Curt.”

Curt sobered for a moment, then looked at Debbie. She was beautiful even with her dark hair tied back into a tight ponytail and her DEA ball cap snugly concealing even the tiniest wisps. Slowly he nodded, seeing in her eyes all that he needed to remember. Christy and the baby!

“Where are they?” he questioned.

“Over there,” Debbie pointed, and Curt glanced across the parking lot to see Christy being comforted by two women team members.

Christy seemed to sense his eyes on her as he started walking toward her. One of the women accepted Sarah’s sleeping form, while Christy ran to close the distance to Curt.

“Oh, Curt, my dearest love,” she cried and threw herself into his arms.

Curt held her so tightly that Christy thought he would break every single one of her ribs, but she didn’t care. She never wanted him to let her go, and she tightened her grip around his neck.

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. God was watching over us all.”

“Is he,” Christy tried to speak. “Is Grant…”

“Yes, he’s dead.”

Christy pulled away. “God forgive me, but I’m glad. If ever anyone deserved what he got—”

“Shhh,” Curt said and put his finger to her lips. “It’s over.”

Christy reached out and lifted Curt’s hand to her lips, then gasped in horror. Blood stained his fingers and hand. Tracing the blood up his arm, Christy cried anew at the sight of the torn material. “You’re shot! You’ve got to get help! Debbie!” she called for the only other person she recognized.

“It’s okay,” Curt tried to assure her, but Christy would have no part of it.

Debbie came up with a medic. “Your turn, Curt,” Debbie said and motioned Curt to the ambulance.

“How’s Cheryl?” he asked, and Christy glanced past him for the first time to see the paramedics working on the blond woman.

“She’s losing a lot of blood,” Debbie stated. “They’re doing all they can to stabilize her.”

“And the baby?” Curt asked, reminding Christy of Cheryl’s condition.

Debbie shook her head. “I don’t know. What I do know is that you’re going to go with this man right now and have that arm looked at. I can’t have you going into shock here in the parking lot.”

Curt grinned and drawled casually, “Yes, ma’am. I surely wouldn’t want you ladies to faint at the sight of a little blood.”

Debbie rolled her eyes.

“Will you take Christy and Sarah home for me?” Curt asked before turning to leave with the medic.

“Of course I will,” Debbie replied.

“I want to stay with you,” Christy protested.

“Sarah needs you,” Curt reminded her. “Get her out of here. The press will be here any minute, and you don’t want this all over the newspapers. Take her home, and I’ll be there as soon as I can get away.”

“But—”

Curt crossed his arms adamantly. “I won’t go with them at all until you agree to go with Debbie,” he stated.

“You!” Christy exclaimed in exasperation. “You are the most infuriating man. Always ordering me around, telling me where to go and with whom. Don’t you think it might be nice if just once you’d let me make up my own mind about how I want to handle things?”

Curt raised a single brow as though humoring her outburst. “Look around you, sweetheart. This is what happens when I leave you to plan for yourself.”

Christy opened her mouth, then closed it again. For a heartbeat, she said nothing, then turned to Debbie. “Take us home, Debbie.” Then to the paramedic at Curt’s side, she leaned over and whispered with a touch of a smile, “Use the stuff that stings a lot, and maybe you could sew him up with a blunt needle. If you don’t have one, I do.”

Curt burst out laughing. “I think I’m going to like being married to you. At least I won’t be bored!”

Epilogue

Christy woke up slowly. Somewhere in the back of her subconscious, she realized that someone was kissing her. She sighed and relished the passionate lips that ran the length of her neck before capturing her mouth for a warm inviting kiss. Opening her eyes, she found Curt’s steely blue ones staring down intently at her.

“Ummm,” she murmured and reached up her arms to embrace his neck. “Good morning, Mr. O’Sullivan.”

“Good morning, indeed, Mrs. O’Sullivan,” he whispered against her mouth before reclaiming it.

Christy snuggled down against her husband of two days and smiled. “It seems strange that everything is so quiet. Sarah would normally have had us up for an hour or more by now. I’m glad CJ agreed to keep her at their place while we honeymooned.”

Curt laughed. “She’s got quite a set of lungs on her—I have to say that. Never realized babies could be so demanding.”

“You should hear her in the middle of the night when she thinks she’s starving to death and nobody’s going to come feed her.” Christy suddenly sobered. “You aren’t sorry you married us, are you?”

“You trying to get rid of me?”

Christy pushed Curt aside and rolled up on one elbow. “I mean it,” she said completely serious. “I just don’t want you to regret—”

He reached up and put his hand across her mouth. “You should know by now that I rarely do anything against my will. I’m a determined man, Christy. Especially when I’m convinced that God is leading me in a particular direction. You were one of those directions in which He led me. Understand?”

Christy nodded, and Curt lowered his hand with a grin. “Besides,” he continued, “I seem to recall a promise you made to do anything if I got Sarah back to you safely.”

“I married you, didn’t I?” she teased and flopped back against the pillows. Curt followed her and pulled her close against him.

“You don’t regret it, do you?” he said, reflecting her question back at her.

“Why would I regret it?” Christy questioned innocently.

“Well, I’m not your regular guy,” Curt admitted.

“No, you certainly aren’t!” declared Christy with a smile. “You are most unusual. Unique, in fact.”

“Unique, eh?” Curt got a mischievous look on his face. “I think I like that. One-of-a-kind. Like some of the other little treasures in your massive Victorian museum-of-a-house. Maybe you’re just collecting rare priceless pieces.”

“Or little bits of junk that nobody else will have,” Christy teased.

“What a thing to say!” Curt exclaimed and began tickling Christy until she was laughing so hard, she begged him to stop.

Curt reached up and brushed back a strand of chocolate brown hair. His finger trailed down her cheek to her neck, then rested on her soft, white shoulder.

Christy stared back at her husband, no longer afraid of the stirring impact. She remembered the times she’d fought to keep from looking at his face—to keep her eyes from meeting his and feeling the power he held over her. Now she relished that feeling and sought it eagerly. Now she belonged to him in full, and nothing would ever separate them. At least she prayed nothing would. A slight frown crossed her face as Christy remembered all the infidelity in her life. Surely Curt would remain faithful. His values were different, and Christy was sure that would make all the difference.

“What are you thinking about?” Curt asked softly.

Christy shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying,” he said firmly. “After all we’ve been through, is it possible that you still don’t trust me?”

“Of course not!” Christy declared, but she knew there was an element of truth in his question.

“Then what made you look so sad just now?”

Christy took a deep breath and looked away. “I just don’t want what we have to end.”

Curt pulled her face back to his. “And you’re worried that it will?”

“I can’t explain it.”

“Yes, you can, although I’m not sure you need to. I think I already understand,” Curt said and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You’re wondering when I’m going to treat you as badly as every other man in your life. Isn’t that it?”

Christy’s eyes widened at Curt’s words. They hit their mark.

“I thought so,” he said, without waiting for her to confirm his suspicions. He pulled her against him tightly and held her for several minutes without saying a word. When he did speak, he was close to tears.

“Christy, I have never cared for anyone in my life the way I care for you. I love you with all my heart, almost as though you were an extension of my soul. I know I’ll make mistakes, but we’ll take it one day at a time—together.”

“Together,” she murmured.

“Together, with God,” he added. “Leave it in God’s hands, Christy. Things might get difficult from time to time. That’s just life. Remem-ber that verse in Isaiah?”

“About youths getting tired and weary?”

“Not just that part. Do you remember the rest of it?” “I don’t know. I guess I kind of remember it.” “‘But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint,’” Curt recited and added, “That’s us, Christy. We’ve put our hope in the Lord. When the times get rough and things look impossible, God will renew our strength. He’ll give us wings like eagles to fly high above and beyond the tribulation that threatens to destroy us. We can count on Him, Christy. You believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “more than I ever thought possible.”

Sometime later, Christy stood on the deck outside the rustic cabin that she and Curt shared for their honeymoon. The log-framed hideaway was nestled amid tall ponderosa pines overlooking a small mountain lake.

Catching the crisp May breeze, Christy lifted her face to the sun’s warmth and sighed. A movement overhead caught her attention, just as Curt came from inside the cabin to stand behind her.

“Look,” she whispered. A solitary eagle rose on graceful wings against the rich blue of the mountain sky. His wide, powerful wings took him higher and higher until finally he achieved the heights he sought. Then the eagle sailed downward, gliding silently. Never once did he beat his wings against the wind. He simply soared across the skies, catching warm pockets of air that lifted him higher and higher, until he once again turned to drift down toward the earth.

“Wings like eagles,” Christy whispered. A perfect design, she thought. A design only God could create and that He offered His children in return for their hope placed in Him.

“Wings like eagles,” Curt murmured against her ear. “Wings that will take us home to Him.”

Dedicated to Michael Daugherty:
When autumn leaves blend gold from green, I think of you.
Denver in ‘97 for sure,
and we can all bring our friends!

Tracie Peterson is an award-winning, bestselling author of over 85 books. Making her home in Montana, this Kansas native enjoys spending time with family. She’s active in her church as the Director of Women’s Ministries, coordinates a yearly writer’s retreat for published authors, and travels, as time permits, to research her books.