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Her soul had not gone on a shelf. He had wrapped himself around her protectively, courageously,

and had put her in the safest, most precious place he knew of: behind his barriers against the

world, deep into the very heart of him. She knew it as surely as she could see the remnants of

Saturday's vulnerable questioning in his eyes. The predator was awake and ravenous for her. Her

had himself sternly, adamantly on a leash for her. Everything he had said and done in the past

week had been for her.

Mary could no more refuse him than she could refuse to breathe. She reached out her hand and

was encompassed, and gently he drew her out of her house, and she came to him dancing.

The Falcon Club was one of the premier restaurants in Cherry Bay. Somehow it managed to

combine artistry with unpretentiousness. The cuisine on offer had an international flair, and the

decor was very plain, with pieces from local painters hanging on the walls, glossy hardwood

floors and white-covered tables adorned with candles and fresh flowers. It was one of Mary's

favorite places to dine, but she had never met the owners. She entered the restaurant with her

hand tucked snugly into the crook of Chance's arm, viewing everything with a fresh perspective.

He led her-over to a table tucked away from the others, in the comer of the restaurant with a

breathtaking view of the bay. There was an older couple already seated at the table, drinking

wine and talking quietly. They rose to their feet as Chance and Mary approached.

Chance covered her fingers with his, squeezing lightly. "Mary, this is my mom, Carmen, and my

dad, Johnny. Mom, Dad-this is Mary Newman. Don't scare her away, will you?"

"For heaven's sake, Chance," said his mother chidingly. "As if we would. If she's not scared

away by you, she deserves all our sympathy and support."

Chance grinned and Mary chuckled, looking up into Carmen's face. Chance's mother was a tall,

strong boned woman, with red hair touched gracefully at the temples with silver, Cassie's facial

features and Chance's hazel eyes. Those hauntingly familiar eyes. were warmly welcoming as

they looked at Mary. Suddenly her nervousness fell away, and she glowed with pleasure as she

shook the older woman's hand.

Chance's stepfather, Johnny, was a slim, distinguished man, also greying, with an elegantly erect

carriage, aquiline features and gentle green eyes. He smoothly' interposed himself between Mary

and Chance, held out a chair for her, and proceeded to see to her every comfort.

Chance changed course and headed for the chair on the other side of Mary, but his mother beat

him to it. He stopped, cocked his head and said, "I think I'm being out manoeuvred."

"Of course you are," said Johnny comfortably, settling back and smiling at the younger man. "We

want to talk to you and get to know Mary, not watch you two sink into a world of your own."

Chance frowned mock-seriously, then acquiesced and took the chair opposite Mary. But he

glanced at her as he did so, and the ravenous, leashed part of him spoke to her. Later, it said.

Though she was warm, she shivered. Her face shone with wonder and delicious apprehension,

and no small bewilderment at what he did to her: Later, she promised.

With that, the predator was content and drew back to wait, and Chance turned to his parents to

pretend that he was interested in more commonplace things.

Mary was amazed. Neither Carmen nor Johnny seemed to noticed the pretender in their midst,

and they had known him all his life. They laughed heartily at his dry witticisms, and drew Mary

out of herself with gracious kindness and a genuine liking. They asked for her opinions and

listened with respect to her replies.

As she grew to know them, she could see how they had both had a hand in shaping his character

as he'd grown from being a troubled teenager into becoming the man that he was. Chance's own

brilliance, hard and cutting as a diamond, could have once been what would have broken him.

But the gifts they had given him-his mother's gritty determination, his stepfather's ethics and

gentle strength-had saved him from himself.

Even as the excellent meal progressed and she expanded to sparkle under the wise nurturing they

showered upon her, one part of her was always intimately aware of the man opposite her. He

stalked her with patient silence. He lounged back in a languid manner, and one of his long legs

brushed against hers. He talked to his mother about taking Tim to the fair, while his gaze

caressed her. He and his stepfather ordered brandy and coffee for dessert, while he reached

across the table and carefully refilled her wineglass.

The part of her that was his prey knew it was being bunted. It crouched still and small, considered the possible wisdom of bolting, and knew it would not.

Then somehow the evening was over with, and Carmen and Johnny were saying good-night.

Mary shook both their hands and was immensely pleased when the older woman bent to brush

her lips against her cheek. "We so enjoyed meeting you, Mary," Carmen said. "You must come to

dinner again soon. We'll have a more cozy time of it at our house, and we’d love to meet your

family, as well."

"We'll ask Cassie to come, too,'' Johnny added.

Mary smiled, and the other three paused to drink in her delight. "Oh, I'd like that."

"Next week?" Carmen asked, and she nodded.

Chance strolled around the table to put a hand at the small of her back. The heavy warmth of it

seared through the thin material of her dress and seemed to brand her. "We’ll arrange for a night

when everybody's free," he said. "I'll call you, Mom."

Carmen looked at her son for a long moment, her gaze sober and loving, and that was when

Mary discovered that both his parents knew quite well what had really gone on that evening.

They knew, accepted, and she realized just how comprehensive their welcome to her had been.

"Thank you for everything," she said quietly.

"I couldn't be more pleased," Carmen answered just as quietly.

She and Chance walked outside, and they both paused on the doorstep of the restaurant for a

moment, taking in the fresh night air.lhe breeze teased at her skirt and licked against her legs;

She looked up and said softly, "I liked your parents."

His preoccupied expression vanished, and he focused on her. "They both loved you, but then I

knew they would." He paused, staring intently at her, then whispered, "Come back to my place."

Again, it flashed through her: Bolt. Hide. She shoved the thought aside and reached out both

arms to him. "Oh, yes, please."

He made a hoarse sound and crushed her to him briefly, a hard, bruising hold. Then he swept an

arm around .her waist and walked her swiftly to his car. She was heated, exhilarated. Chance's

face, in the dim glow of the dashboard, was like an ageless marble sculpture, the tiny signs of

humanity, both temper and humor, smoothed away by the semidarkness. She averted her eyes

and watched the road scroll past them.

When they got out of town, he took a side road that wound through the hills bordering the shore

of the lake. On either side of the road, houses nestled in land covered by forest. After a few

minutes, he signalled and turned left into the driveway of a two story, wood-shingled house.

Mary could see, through the break in the trees, dark, glimmering water.

The engine died into silence. For a moment neither one of them moved. She clasped her hands

tightly together in her lap, refused to look at him, and tried hard to breathe normally.

This was excruciating. Saturday night, in spite of Victor, had been filled with So much magical

promise, and now she wondered if she might have made some terrible mistake. She opened her

mouth to ask him to take her home, but just then he shifted and put a hand over hers.

"I bought you a present yesterday," he said quietly. Huge, terrified blue eyes turned to look at

him, and he almost groaned.

Some of the awful tension that had gripped her eased somewhat as curiosity pricked. "What is

it?"

"Come on inside-I have a deck that overlooks the beach. We can have coffee out there if you

like."

He sounded so calm and unruffled. Relief and disappointment warred inside her. How could he

act as if this was just another date-maybe he really meant for her to meet his parents, visit awhile,

and then to take her home. Maybe her imagination had been overactive. Maybe that was a good

thing. She trailed behind him to the house, tangled up in herself.

The interior of the house was panelled with the same natural wood as the outside, and furnished

with plain leather furniture, plenty of shelves filled with books, and large framed photographs of

varying landscapes on the walls. The overall impression was undeniably masculine, but

comfortable, homey.

Mary had stopped dead ten feet in from the front door. Chance appeared not to notice as he

strolled easily toward the back of the house, shedding suit jacket and tie as he went. He flashed

her a brief smile over his shoulder. "Feel free to look around while I make the coffee."

"Thank you," she said, bewildered. He disappeared around a comer.

In the space left by his absence, she had time to think, and she discovered she was curious.

Wandering through the house was like a private treasure hunt, as she gleaned clues about him

wherever she looked.

One of the downstairs rooms had been converted into an office. She peeked inside briefly, saw a

desktop computer, laser printer, filing cabinets, shelves with textbooks and journals, a dart board

obviously well used. That made her smile to herself. The room was the most cluttered in the

house, scattered with stacks of papers and maps. The desk chair was also leather and somewhat

battered, bearing the impression of his body.

He liked classics, biographies and mysteries, puzzles and strategy games. A hand woven afghan

was thrown carelessly over the back of the couch. A polished wood chessboard with pieces

carved from dark and light onyx sat on an end table near the fireplace in the living room. The

bathroom was neat and somewhat spare, but she smiled to see the aqua-colored shower curtain

that bore the pattern of stylized mermaids and seashells. She opened the medicine cabinet,

spotted a bottle of after-shave, and inhaled the familiar spicy scent.

She gave the shadowed staircase leading to the second floor one curious glance, but at the

thought of exploring up there, her courage failed. She scuttled into the hall toward the kitchen

and bumped into him as he rounded the comer.

His hands curled around her elbows to steady her as he chuckled. "Do you like the place?"

His hair had fallen over his brow. She spread her hands over his chest and smiled up at him.

"Yes, it's lovely. Do-do you own or rent? Oh-the coffee smells... nice." His eyes had started to

crinkle. Shut up! She closed her mouth with a snap and fell silent.

His fingers slid along her bare skin. "I haven't been here long, just a few months, and I could be

persuaded to move-for the right reasons. And the coffee's just done. 'Would you like some?"

She nodded, and he took her into the kitchen, walled on one side with bricks. A white countertop

separated the kitchen from the dining room. He had opened the glass doors leading onto the

deck, where lights around the rail illuminated redwood tables and chairs. The murmuring sound

of the lake drifted in.

Chance poured two cups of coffee and added cream to hers. Mary paused, her attention diverted

by the high stack of dishes in the drainer. She started to smile, guessing that he had cleaned the

house thoroughly that day. Then she noticed the dining-room table, which seated eight, and the

deck furniture, with room for at least eight, as well. That was a great deal of seating space for a

single man, unless he entertained often.

She wondered who his acquaintances here were, and whether he had had people over the night

before. He hadn't mentioned anything to her over the phone. Her gaze fell on the sideboard in the

dining room, which was stacked with papers and files and empty ashtrays.

For the first time she noticed a faint odor of stale cigar and cigarette smoke in that part of the

house.

Chance followed her gaze, drew a breath, and put a hand on her arm. "Want to go out on the

deck?"

Her attention came back to him with a start. "All right." He carried their full cups out carefully,

and she followed, feeling an odd tenderness at how he bent his head so studiously to the small

task. "Chance?"

He set the cups down on one of the tables and turned to her. "I quit my job. I-wanted to tell you

in person. I gave them two weeks' notice on Sunday."

His calm stripped away; "You did?". She nodded, and he took a swift, uncontrolled step toward

her, then stopped and said hoarsely, "Mary, for God's sake-are you going to marry me or not?"

She made a noise-it was supposed to be a laugh and nodded again.

He finished the small journey to her, took hold of her shoulders, and hauled her against him. "I've

been half out of my mind," he growled.

Her head fell back. At the same time she said, "I told you I would on Saturday-I didn't need

time-"

His eyes were ferocious with joy. "Yes, you did need time."