 
The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Belinda

Book One

Peggy Webb

Copyright 2013 by Peggy Webb, second edition

Copyright © 1991 by Peggy Webb, first edition

Cover Design Copyright, 2013 by Kim Van Meter

Smashwords Edition

# Prologue

The only thing Belinda had ever wanted was a little house all her own with geraniums on the front porch. What she had ended up with was a pink slip from the Pets and Paws Beauty Clinic telling her they didn't need her anymore to help trim shaggy poodles and clip surly cats.

This kind of crisis called for some support from the troops. Belinda sat down the battered little desk in her tacky furnished apartment, dragged out her laptop, opened her email and sent off a distress signal.

From: Belinda (belinda@yahoo.com)

To: Janet, Molly, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna, Catherine

Re: In Deep DooDoo

I got canned. It wasn't my fault. Really. I just told that old bat, Martha Crockett, that if she wanted her cat to have pink fur, she'd better find somebody else to do the job. A cat's life is hard enough without standing outside a mouse hole looking like a wad of cotton candy. My boss nearly died laughing – I heard him – but then he fired me on the spot. Mainly, because Martha Crockett is his best customer – she's got six cats – and was standing there having a hissy fit.

Now, Janet, before you and Catherine go off the deep end and start telling me to get my butt in college, let me remind you that a woman like me is not college material. You're the ones who have the brains in this group. Oops, sorry, Bea. Didn't mean to leave you out of the brainy bunch.

Now what?

Xoxoxoxo

Belinda

From: Joanna (joanna@hotmail.com)

To: Belinda, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna, Catherine

Re: Fun!

You tell 'em, Belinda! Oh, I wish I could have seen the look on that old biddy's face. Come to Madrid! I mean it. I'll tell Kirk to send you a ticket. I'm dating a bull fighter!!! The nuns here at Santa Maria Magdalena Colegio y Conservatorio de Arte y Musica are about to die. So is my long-suffering guardian (Poor Kirk!). I'll find one for you! A bull fighter – not a nun. LOL! I know you like TALL. These gorgeous Spaniards tend to be short, but OH MY!

Big Hugs!!!!

Joanna

From: Janet (Janet@aol.com)

To: Belinda, Molly, Bea, Joanna, Catherine, Clemmie

Re: OH MY GOD

That's exactly what I'm going to tell you, Belinda. I'll help you get a scholarship. And Joanna, what the heck does OH MY mean! If it means what I think it does, let me remind you that you can catch _diseases,_ and smart, independent, amazing women like us _do not_ give away for free what a man ought to have to earn with a wedding ring. Am I clear on that? Belinda, call me. I can lend you some money to help you get by till we can get you in school.

XO

Janet

From: Catherine (Catherine@yahoo.com)

To: Belinda, Janet, Molly, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: I VOTE FOR SCHOOL

Janet's right, Joanna, on both counts. Though I would have added _feisty_ to our list of assets. Belinda, hang in there, sweetie. You're a gutsy, beautiful, wonderful woman, and you're going to come out on top. Meantime, call me. I can give you a few bucks to tide you over. Gotta run now. OMG, I LOVE this class on large breed animals!

XOXOX

Catherine

From: Bea (bea@bellsouth.net)

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: Hang onto that Virginia, girls!

_I'll_ do the lending. Janet, good God, medical school is costing you an arm and a leg. Catherine, that goes for vet school, too. I don't want to hear any more about $$$ from anybody except me. I'm no Donald Trump, but I get a regular paycheck, and I'm working my butt off. Before you know it, I'll own this advertising firm! Shoot, I might own all of Dallas!

Listen, Belinda, why don't you go stay with Mother a while. She'd love it! How far is Augusta from Florence, anyhow? Dang, GPS had got me so spoiled I can't even read a map anymore.

BTW, girls, you don't have to worry about me losing my much-vaunted purity. If anybody's coveting my Virginia, I'll be the last to know. So far, I haven't gotten close enough for anybody to touch it with a ten foot pole!

Hugs,

Bea

From: Clemmie (clementine@yahoo.com)

To: Belinda, Molly, Janet, Joanna, Bea, Catherine

Re: Peppertown or Bust!

Belinda, you've got to come to Peppertown, and that's all there is to it. I've got plenty of room in this big old boarding house, and all the regulars would LOVE you! It would be such fun to see you again. Gracious, I can't remember the last time we were all together. It seems like only yesterday we were little girls in pigtails at Camp Piomingo, huddled in our bunks while Molly scared us with ghost stories, Janet taught Belinda and me to swim, and Bea organized us into the best little group at summer camp.

You even wrote rules, didn't you, Bea? Whatever happened to them?

Anyhow, Belinda, jump on the first bus. It won't come all the way to Peppertown. We're just a wide place in the road. Go to Fulton or Tupelo. I'll pick you up.

Hugs,

Clemmie

From: Molly (molly@hotmail.com)

To: Belinda, Clemmie, Bea, Janet, Joanna, Catherine

Re: THE RULES

OMG, the rules! I remember every one of them. _1. Say your prayers. You never know when the camp counselor is watching, nevermind God. 2. Ask for extra biscuits and stuff them in your pockets. The food here sucks. 3. Don't act scared of anything even if you're about to pee your pants. 4. Whatever you do, when the boys from Camp Geronimo come over to visit, hang onto your Virginia!_ We all signed and then put The Dixie Virgins underneath.

Let me tell you something, girls. Paris is not an easy city to hang onto your Virginia. Especially when you're parading around naked in a sheet. Unfortunately, it's all in the name of art! Oh, Belinda, I wish you could come to Paris! Call Daddy. You still have my home number, don't you? I know he'd get a ticket for you. He's the sweetest man ever born! We'd have such fun! Do come!

Much love,

Molly

From: Belinda (belinda@yahoo.com)

To: Molly, Janet, Bea, Catherine, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: Thanks!

I feel so much better!!! Let me think a while. Keep you posted.

Xoxoxox

Belinda

She was tempted to race off to Mississippi where Clemmie, the perennial caretaker, would fuss over her, or to head to Alabama and hole up with Bea's mom. But it seemed that would just be postponing the problem.

Forget school. An old fashioned girl like her who didn't know half the words other folks did and still said things like _just peachy_ and _gosh almighty_ would be laughed off the campus. And she wasn't about to travel abroad, even if she had the money. She couldn't even drive, for Pete's sake. She wasn't about to fly!

Sure, she'd always been traveling from one place to another, by bus mostly and all because she'd listened to the empty promises of men. The first one had been her daddy.

_The next town is going to be better, kids. Just you wait and see._

The next town was never better, only farther away. She and her two sisters had remained ever hopeful, though, hanging on their daddy's words and believing.

The believing got harder after her mother left. Looking back, Belinda guessed her mother just couldn't stand the suspense anymore, never knowing exactly where she would be from one year to the next.

Lately Belinda had begun to feel like her mother. She just couldn't stand the suspense anymore.

The reason she was in Augusta was Charlie Crocket. He'd said if she'd follow him to Georgia and help out with the rent till he got his feet on the ground, they'd get married. Well, she'd followed him, and he hadn't lasted in Georgia till the sun got hot.

She knew from the first time she met him that Charlie needed a little straightening out, but she'd thought all it if would take was a bit of patience and understanding. She'd sure guessed wrong about Charlie.

Before him there had been Matt Hankins. He was a beautiful man full of beautiful promises. Just when she'd been ready to pick out the wedding dress, he'd up and joined the army.

Belinda crumpled the pink slip and threw it into the wastebasket; then she took her purse off the couch and counted her money.

She was through being a traveling woman; she was done with suspense. What she was going to do was get on a bus and go as far as her money would take her.

She didn't know where that would be, but she did know one thing. When she got there, she was going to be a new woman—and in complete charge of her life.

# Chapter One

Reeve Lawrence lifted his head, listening. The house was too quiet. He shoved his chair back from his desk and headed for the door.

"Quincy. _Quincy!"_

Quincy appeared in his doorway, drying her wet hands on her apron.

"You don't have to holler, Mr. Reeve. I'm not deaf." Her rubber-soled shoes squeaked as they bore her massive weight into his study. When she was inside, she craned her neck to look up at him, and shook a finger in his face. "You got no business gettin' yourself all worked up, settin' in here bellowin' like a wounded bull. What's the matter with you?" She studied the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of fatigue around his mouth. Quincy had been taking care of Reeve since he was in diapers, and she wasn't about to shirk her duty now.

Her face softened as she reached up to pat his face and smooth down his collar. "You want to have a stroke and die? Then where would your poor motherless children be?"

"Where are the children?"

"Out in the yard—running a lemonade stand."

"My children are running a lemonade stand?"

"That's what I said."

"Betsy and Mark are out in the street like two little urchins, peddling lemonade to strangers?"

"I don't know about urchins, but I know about you." Quincy planted her hands on her hips and faced him down. "You've turned mean since Miss Sunny died. She's dead, and there's nothin' me or you either one can do about it."

Reeve didn't deny that he'd turned mean since his wife's death. He'd also turned cold, but thank God Quincy didn't point that out. She was getting too bossy in her old age. He probably should let her retire, but she was the only one of his household staff who had remained faithful since Sunny had been gone.

Sometimes he thought of Sunny's death in that way: he pictured her merely gone on an extended journey somewhere—say to the Greek Islands—laughing and tanned in her gold bikini. It was easier than thinking of her in a crumpled car, broken and lifeless.

"You all right, Mr. Reeve?"

Quincy's soft inquiry brought him back to the matter at hand. He put one hand on her shoulder, and gave her a sad smile.

"I know I've been asking too much of you, taking care of my house and my children, too."

"The angels are no trouble at all."

"They are rambunctious hellions, and you've worn yourself to a rag trying to watch after them since Miss Phepps departed."

Quincy snorted. "She didn't depart. She hightailed it out of here like the devil was after her."

"I admit her departure was hasty."

"All the highfalutin' women you call nannies have been hasty leavin' here. There's no pleasin' you where the children are concerned."

Quincy was right again. Eight nannies had come and gone since Sunny's death, less than two years ago. He'd sent three of them packing, but the other five had left on their own. Miss Phepps, the last one, had called him a dictator. That was mild compared to what the others had called him. The redoubtable Miss Grimes had called him a cold heartless bastard.

"You're damned right I'm hard to please. My children are my life." Reeve ran his hand through his hair, a habit he'd developed lately. "Look, Quincy, I'm sorry I'm such a bear. Go back to your work and don't worry about the children. I'll watch after them."

He strode from the den, a tall muscular man with haunted dark eyes. To the casual observer, he was still a commanding presence, a man whose very walk denoted wealth and power. But to Quincy he was a sad, shattered man, a man in need of a woman's loving touch.

She clucked her tongue as she watched him go.

"It's not the children I worry about, Mr. Reeve. It's you."

o0o

Reeve's children were sitting on the grassy sloping bank at the edge of their front yard, their faces shiny with sweat and hope. A pitcher of lemonade and six paper cups sat beside them on a child-sized folding card table. On the table was an empty shoe box and a sign printed in red crayon on the side of a grocery bag— _Lemmonaid, 3 sents_.

"Daddy!" Six-year-old Betsy left her position beside the box and catapulted into his arms. "Did you come to buy some lemonade?"

He'd come to take them back into the house where they'd be safe, but with Betsy's hot little face nuzzling his neck, he didn't have the heart to say so.

"That's exactly why I'm here, sweetheart." He sank to the grassy slope, holding Betsy and reaching out to tousle his seven-year-old son's blond hair. "Will you pour me a glass?"

Betsy hopped off his lap and became serious and important as she poured his lemonade. Reeve was equally solemn as he accepted the cup.

"That will be three cents, Daddy," said Mark, obviously the business manager in the lemonade venture. Reeve passed three pennies to his son and watched as Mark carefully counted them into the empty shoe box. "You're our first customer, Daddy," he added, proud of himself.

Reeve had piles of work on both his desks, the one at home and the one at the office of Lawrence Enterprises. He had two trips coming up, San Francisco and France, and no nanny.

What his mind told him to do was hustle his children inside to the safekeeping of Quincy so he could get on with his business. What his heart told him was a different story.

He spent the afternoon in the front yard with his children. He and Betsy and Mark discussed whether holes had bottoms and whether lady-bugs were really ladies and whether angels flew like birds or like jet airplanes.

Except for his neighbor from down the street who passed by walking her dog, Reeve was his children's only customer. When the children got anxious over their business lull, he put three cents in their shoe box and asked for another glass of lemonade.

By late afternoon, there was only one glass left. He had decided to buy their last bit of lemonade and take Betsy and Mark into the house when he saw a woman coming up the street, walking almost sideways under the weight of her cardboard suitcase.

She was dusty and disheveled, as if she'd been walking a long way. He stood up, for there was a dignity about her that made it impossible for him to sit sprawled on the grass, observing her.

When she was two houses away, she stopped on the side of the street, opened her suitcase and pulled out a pair of bright red spike-heeled shoes. Then she sat on the curb and unlaced her sneakers. Her hair fell in a silky curtain over the side of her face, and the setting sun burnished it gold.

Sunny's hair had been gold. For a moment he was whirled backward in time, seeing his wife as she bent over her shoes, getting ready for the theater.

Suddenly the woman stood up, and she was not Sunny at all. She was a stranger wearing a cheap rayon dress with a spray of artificial flowers at the shoulder, striding toward him in outrageous red spike-heeled shoes.

"I'm just dying for a something to wet my whistle," she said when she was even with him.

He was too astonished to speak. His children didn't suffer the same malady.

"Would you like to buy a glass of lemonade?" Mark said.

"Well, now. I don't mind if I do." The woman fished around in her purse, a large carpetbag affair that was almost as big as her suitcase.

She passed three pennies to Mark, her face as shiny and bright as her red enameled fingernails. There was something heartbreakingly innocent about her smile. As Reeve watched the woman squat beside Betsy, he realized that he hadn't seen a smile that guileless on a woman in a long, long time.

"Well, now," the woman said to his daughter, "if you're not just the prettiest little thing I've ever seen. What's your name, honey?"

"Betsy. What's yours?"

"Belinda..." The woman paused, biting her red lips. "Belinda Diamond,'' she proclaimed in a voice just a bit too loud. Then she glared up at Reeve as if she expected to be contradicted.

There was something very wise about her dark eyes, as if she were a battle-weary soldier who was coming home with her dignity and her brave red fingernails intact. Reeve was intrigued.

"I'm Reeve Lawrence, Miss Diamond, and these are my children, Betsy and Mark."

Her handshake was spontaneous and strong. She tossed her head when she smiled at him, and the sun shot sparks in her hair.

"It's a pleasure to make some new friends in Tupelo." She spoke with careful formality, as if she'd invented the words for the occasion.

"I see you're traveling."

"Just got here this very minute. Left Augusta on the bus early this morning, just me and my suitcase."

"You walked from the bus station?"

"Every step of the way. I don't believe in hitchhiking. Too many bad things can happen to a woman that way."

She smiled again, that unexpectedly innocent smile that set off gold lights in the center of her dark eyes. Then she bent over her lemonade.

The children lost interest in the grown-ups and scampered across the lawn, playing tag. Reeve stayed on the sidewalk with Belinda Diamond, keeping his children in sight.

He had the uneasy sense of having opened Pandora's box. It was unlike him to carry on conversations with strangers, and it was even more unusual for him to be interested in their lives. What was there about this young woman that intrigued him so?

All he knew was that he had to find out why she had walked from the bus station and why she was wearing high-heeled shoes and a dress with artificial flowers on the shoulders.

"Do you have a particular destination in mind, Miss Diamond?"

"I'm headed for the big time. I mean, if a woman leaves everything she has behind except her clothes and she even dresses for the occasion, don't you think she should expect good things to happen?"

"That sounds reasonable."

"You sure do talk fancy, Mr. Lawrence. High-class like."

"Why don't you call me Reeve, and then perhaps I won't seem so lofty."

"Well, if that's not the bee's knees." Her hand shot out again, and she pumped his enthusiastically up and down. "You can call me Belinda, and we'll be friends."

How long had it been since he'd had time for friends? Since Sunny's death his life had consisted of managing his business and taking care of his children. The first had been no problem; in fact, it had been his salvation in the long days of grieving. But the second had been a constant battle. With nannies coming and going and Quincy being overindulgent and the children growing and changing every day, his personal life was totally out of control, spiraling downhill like a snowball, growing bigger and more cumbersome with each roll.

Standing there in the late-afternoon sun with Belinda's slim hand in his, he suddenly felt humble and very, very grateful. She made life seem so simple. _Here I am, and here you are,_ her handshake indicated to him. _So let's befriends._

"You are an unusual woman, Belinda."

"Oh—you mean the dress." He didn't, but he saw no reasons to contradict her. She smoothed the cheap skirt over her slim hips and patted the spray of flowers. "I've been wanting this dress for I don't know how long. And I just up and decided, why not? Why not get fancied up and go to Tupelo looking like somebody. You know what I mean. Somebody important and _worthy."_

He found himself staring at her and not being able to turn away. A dozen things he should say floated through his mind. "You _are_ important and worthy," he could say. But she had wise eyes, and probably a wise heart. She'd know he was being shallow. And she had said he'd be her friend. Real friends were sincere and honest with each other.

"I wish you the best of luck in your new venture, Belinda."

She set the empty cup back on the table. "It's going to be a big adventure, all right, making my place in this brand-new town. See, I'm through being a traveling woman. I'm settling down here for good. Won't that be just grand?"

She smiled at him, and he knew he was being called upon to say something. There were no words adequate enough for Belinda's great expectations. Reeve spent a moment pondering his response, and in the end he merely reached for her hand once more and shook it solemnly.

"Well... good luck," he said. He felt foolish repeating himself, but he need not have worried that Belinda would take offense. She picked up her suitcase, gave him a jaunty wave and started up the street, tilting a little under the weight of all her possessions.

He stood watching her walk away, mesmerized by the absolute dignity of a woman who had so little but still found life so grand.

"Daddy... Daddy!" His children finally caught his attention by tugging on his sleeves.

"How come that nice lady is walking, Daddy?"

"I don't know, Mark."

"Where is she going, Daddy?"

"I don't know that, either, Betsy."

Belinda had reached the end of the block, and as she rounded the corner, she looked brave and magnificent, walking off into the sunset in her red high-heeled shoes.

"Let's clean up the lemonade stand and go inside, children. It will soon be dark."

Mark took the shoe box and carefully counted the pennies into his pockets. Then he lifted his face up to his father. "Is it safe for that lady to walk in the dark, Daddy?"

He had warned his children never to leave the house after dark unless he or Quincy accompanied them. He had stressed to them the importance of not taking up with strangers. How could he tell his son that Belinda Diamond was a stranger to them, an adult who was responsible for her own welfare, without seeming callous and uncaring? Being told by Quincy that he had "turned mean" was one thing; but being perceived as heartless by his children was quite another.

Before he could answer Mark's question, Betsy piped up with, "What if she gets lost in the dark? Will goblins and haints get her?"

_Goblins and haints?_ He carefully masked the anger in his voice as he bent over his daughter.

"There are no such things as goblins, Betsy, and haints is not even a word. Where did you hear that?"

"Miss Phepps," Betsy and Mark chimed together.

"She said they come out of the dark to punish bad children," Mark added.

If he had not already dismissed her, Reeve guessed that he'd have killed her.

"Miss Phepps was wrong, children. Goblins and haints do not exist. And there is no such thing as bad children."

"Not even when I put that frog in her bed?"

Reeve stifled his laughter. Mark's prank had upset the entire household, for when she'd discovered the frog Miss Phepps had gone screaming from her room in the middle of the night. Apparently the frog had been content to snuggle under her warm covers unnoticed until she had rolled over on him, pinning him beneath her.

"What you did was wrong, Mark, but it does not make you bad. Both of you are wonderful children. You are my shining stars." He ruffled their hair. "And now, let's finish cleaning up this lemonade business." He was relieved that he had gotten sidetracked from the issue of Belinda Diamond walking alone in the dark.

Apparently the children had already forgotten, as well, for Betsy was carefully stacking empty cups together, and Mark was folding up their grocery-bag sign. Suddenly tears formed in Betsy's eyes, and she tugged on Reeve's hand.

"But what if she gets scared in the dark, Daddy?"

"Who, sweetheart?"

"That lady with the funny flower on her dress."

His children weren't as easily sidetracked as he had imagined. That knowledge made him both proud and uncomfortable—proud of their bright minds and uncomfortable about having to confront the Belinda Diamond issue again.

She was already out of sight, but she couldn't have gone far, not in those high-heeled shoes and carrying that heavy suitcase. What would it hurt to follow her and offer to take her to a motel in his car? Actually he was a bit ashamed of himself for not already having made such an offer. Had he grown so callous that it took two innocent children to remind him that he was a civilized human being?

"Don't you children worry about a thing. Daddy's going to take care of Miss Belinda Diamond."

"Really, Daddy? Really?" Betsy jumped up and down.

"Yes. I'll go after her in my car and take her to a nice motel for the evening."

"She can stay in my room," Betsy offered.

"That's generous of you, sweetheart, but it's not necessary for her to share your room. Now, let's go inside and find Quincy." He picked up the little table and the empty pitcher and led them back to the house. Inside he summoned Quincy with the intercom.

"Can you hold dinner for about forty minutes?" he asked her. "I have an errand to run."

"He's going after a lady," Mark explained.

"It's about time," Quincy said, rolling her eyes heavenward and cupping her hands in supplication.

"I'll explain later," Reeve said.

He took the black Corvette and went in pursuit of Belinda. She wasn't hard to find. Her shoes and her suitcase had hampered her progress, so that she was only four blocks from his house. He eased to a stop beside her and lowered the car window.

"Belinda..."

She jerked her head around, startled, and then she walked over to him and leaned in the window, smiling.

"This sure is a fancy car." She ran her hands along the edges of the window. "I bet it cost an arm and a leg."

Reeve was momentarily taken aback, then he laughed. "It certainly did. And a couple of feet, as well."

"My, my." She ran her hands over his car again, all the while leaning so close he was only inches from her seductive little mouth and her dark eyes. His heart kicked hard against his ribs and he was acutely aware of her as a woman. He felt guilty, as if he had betrayed Sunny.

The silence stretched out between them, and Belinda kept smoothing her hands over his car. The movement was decidedly sensual. Reeve cleared his throat and eased back in his seat to put a little distance between them. My lord, this girl couldn't be more than twenty-two or three. She hardly even qualified as a woman.

"I came to offer you a ride to your motel."

Belinda cocked her head to one side, studying him, holding the moment and offering it up to him like a long- stemmed rose. She seemed to be weighing her options. Suddenly she grinned.

"All right. I'm tired of walking, anyhow."

Reeve got out of his car and loaded her suitcase into the back seat. Belinda slid into the front seat, bouncing up and down a little to test the springs.

"This is just grand," she announced as he slid behind the wheel.

"Thank you." He turned the key in the ignition. "Do you have a reservation?"

"No." Her bow-shaped lips formed a sexy O when she spoke. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"I can recommend a few good motels."

"Are they cheap?" Belinda fingered the catch on her purse as if that small movement would multiply her funds.

Reeve's rescue mission was getting more complicated by the moment. Naturally a woman who had walked from the bus station would be counting pennies. He didn't know how much money she could afford for a motel, and he guessed that if he offered to pay, her pride would be deeply wounded.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "My house is very large and you are welcome to stay for the night."

She didn't seem as surprised by the offer as he was that he had made it. He supposed that was what happened when you started compromising. First he had caved in to the will of his children and become involved in the affairs of a perfect stranger, and now he was letting that stranger work some kind of spell over him so that he was actually concerned about wounding her pride. The Reeve Lawrence sitting behind the wheel of his Corvette was not the man he knew. Perhaps when he got back home he'd be himself once more.

"Is this offer legit?" Belinda asked.

"Yes."

"I don't want you to think I can't take care of myself."

"I don't."

"Or that I go around taking up with strange men."

"Never."

"Or that I don't have any money," she added.

"Not at all." He lied, letting her save face.

"What about your wife? Are you sure she won't mind if I spend the night?"

"My wife is... deceased." Suddenly he had a vision of Sunny sitting beside him, her hair glowing in the dashboard lights. His hands tightened on the wheel.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." When Belinda reached over and squeezed his arm, the gesture was so unexpected he sat there, frozen. Finally she let go and said, "It's a deal. I'll stay at your house."

They drove in silence. His house stood out dramatically on the hillside, ablaze with lights. He parked the car in the garage, then got Belinda's suitcase. She fell into step beside him, swiveling her head to view his house from all angles. The children catapulted through the front door and met them in the front yard.

"Daddy, you brought her home!" Mark yelled, obviously pleased.

"Goody, goody!" Betsy squealed.

Belinda stood in front of the house, her eyes big with wonder. "Gosh almighty. It's just like a castle out of a fairy tale."

He looked at his house with a new awareness. It had steep gables and an oversized fanlight. Sunny had added a broad veranda, running the length of the front, so the house wouldn't be so imposing and formidable, she'd said.

"Do you like fairy tales?" Betsy asked, tugging on Belinda's hand.

"They're my favorite kind of tale." Belinda linked her other hand with Mark's, and the three of them went up the steps together, moving ahead of Reeve.

"Will you read us one?" Mark turned toward Reeve. "Daddy, can she read us a story?"

"That's up to her. She's traveled all day, son, and she might be tired from her journey."

"Oh, I don't ever get tired." Belinda swung around to look at him. "Life's too interesting. If I got tired I'd miss half of it." She smiled at him, then stood on his veranda, surveying her surroundings. "I sure do like this porch," she said after a while, her voice soft and dreamy. "It would be just peachy with two or three big pots of geraniums scattered around."

Reeve imagined his porch abloom with red geraniums. Sunny had loved flowers. When she had gone, it seemed she'd taken all the flowers out of his life, all the color.

He gazed around his veranda. Maybe he'd get some flowers.

"Do you like red?" he asked Belinda.

"It's just about my favorite color in the whole world."

She and the children hurried ahead through his front door, chattering like old friends. He followed along, thinking how it would feel to come home in the evening and be welcomed by red geraniums.

Reeve set the cardboard suitcase down inside the door and reached for the intercom to call Quincy. Then he changed his mind. Suddenly it became important to him to show Belinda Diamond to her room himself. He wanted to see her first reaction.

"Betsy, Mark, please go find Quincy and tell her there will be a guest for dinner." The children raced along the marble floors, laughing and chattering. When they had disappeared he turned to his guest. "I'll show you to your room."

He led her up the curving staircase, guiding her with a hand on her elbow, watching her openly as she grew big-eyed over the chandelier and the carved mahogany railing and even the plush carpet under their feet. He was as pleased as if he'd invented all those lush trappings.

At the top of the stairs, he turned toward the guest wing, then changed his mind and headed toward his own bedroom wing. There was no need to put Belinda all the way on the other side of the house. What if she needed to ask him something and got lost trying to find him? It was much more practical to have her close by. And besides, he wanted to be able to keep an eye on her. She certainly seemed innocent and harmless, and the children liked her. That was always a good sign—children and dogs had great instincts about people.

He trusted his own instincts, too, but there was always a slight chance that he was wrong. It was best all around to put Belinda Diamond in the bedroom next to his.

"Here it is," he said, opening the door to a room done in shades of cream and pale blue. "Your room for the night. It has its own bathroom."

"All of this—just for me?" Belinda swung around to look at him. "You're kidding me. Right?"

"No. This is your room."

She walked around, touching the velvet-covered love seat, running her hands down the silk curtains hanging from the bedposts, picking up the gold hairbrush on the vanity. With the hairbrush in her hand, she suddenly tensed, her eyes as alert as a startled doe's.

"Where's your room?"

"Right next door."

"And where will the children be?"

"Downstairs. My housekeeper, Quincy, has quarters next to theirs."

She laid the brush down carefully, then folded her hands together and faced him.

"I don't swap my body for favors."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't know what you think of me or what you expect of me, but I'm not the kind of woman who sells herself for one night in a fancy bedroom."

"I see," Reeve said. She was very serious, and he had a hard time keeping a straight face. He was both amused and touched.

"Just so we get this clear," she went on, "I don't take charity and I don't sleep around—you know, have sex and stuff like that."

He rubbed his hand across his mouth to cover his smile.

"I don't want any of your favors, Belinda, lovely as they might be."

"You don't?"

"No." He opened the closet door and set her cardboard suitcase inside. Then he crossed the room and took her gently by the shoulders.

"What are friends for if they can't offer you a night's lodging?"

"Okay. I just wanted to make that clear. That's all."

"It's perfectly clear." He released her and stepped back. "Dinner will be served at eight. You might want to freshen up before then. I'll knock on your door when it's time and escort you to the dining room."

She didn't answer immediately, but went to the bed and ran her hands over the creamy coverlet. Her shiny hair slid over her cheek so he couldn't see her face. But even so, he knew just how it would look—as bright and glowing as a child's on Christmas morning.

With one hand, she held her hair back from her face and smiled at him. "I feel just like a princess in a fairy tale."

He didn't know what to say. All he was offering her was a night's lodging. Surely that meager gift didn't make her feel like a princess. Was she expecting more? Was her innocence all an act?

What had he done? He pulled caution around him like a cloak. "I'll see you at eight," he said, already striding toward the door.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the closed door. That Reeve Lawrence was the oddest man she'd ever met. Sometimes he acted all friendly, just like the customers who came to Pets and Paws on a Saturday morning, and other times he was as stiff as an old turkey, waiting for the ax at Thanksgiving. Land, he was a complicated man.

She ran her hands over the coverlet and sighed.

"Oh, Lord, a woman could get used to this." She kicked off her one shoe and curled her toes into the plush carpet. Then she kicked off the other shoe and danced around the room.

Suddenly she stopped in front of the full-length mirror. Her pink dress with the flowers on one shoulder didn't look all that special beside her luxurious surroundings. She was in a different world, and she knew it. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Belinda Stubaker, don't you dare go making a fool of yourself over Reeve Lawrence. Besides," she added, tipping up her chin, "you don't need another man to straighten out."

# Chapter Two

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Molly, Bea, Janet, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: What's Going On?

Belinda, sweetie? Where are you?

Xoxo

Catherine

From: Belinda

To: Catherine, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna

Re: A Fairytale

You're not going to believe this! I'm staying in a mansion in Tupelo with a nice man named Reeve Lawrence. I met him this afternoon when I stopped to buy something to wet my whistle at his little kids' lemonade stand. He has a dead wife, and the saddest, saddest look I've ever seen. I wish you could see this bed! It's like something out of a fairy tale.

Xoxox

Belinda

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna

Re: Fairytale, my ass

You're staying with a man you don't know? In his _bedroom_!!! Get out of there now! I'll skip classes tomorrow, drive up to Tupelo and bring you back to Jackson with me. My apartment's cramped, but there's room for you.

Janet

From: Bea

To: Janet, Belinda, Catherine, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie

Re: No Three Fire Alarm

Good lord, Janet. Just chill. Belinda's got better sense than to shack up with a stranger. Right, Belinda?

Bea

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Molly, Joanna, Bea

Re: Oh Dear

I _do wish_ you'd come to Peppertown. Where in Tupelo? I can be there in twenty minutes.

Clemmie

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Bea, Molly, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: Tell All

Oh, this is too _delicious!_ Send details!!!

Joanna

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Bea, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: Daddy will know

I'm calling Daddy. He knows everybody in Tupelo. He'll find out if this Reeve Lawrence is an ax murderer. I hope not! He sounds _romantic!_

Molly

Belinda turned off her computer. She might not know much but one thing was sure: Reeve Lawrence was no ax murderer. The only thing she had to worry about was getting clean for dinner.

She went into the fancy bathroom and she picked a bottle of bath oil. "Attar of Roses," the label read. She didn't know what "attar" was, but she knew about roses. She uncapped the bottle and held it to her nose. It smelled heavenly.

She closed her eyes, imagining herself floating in the big sunken tub, surrounded by rose-smelling bubbles. She couldn't think of anything more romantic. Wait till she told Joanna and Molly!

Sighing softly, she recapped the bottle and set it carefully back on the shelf. Someday she was going to buy herself some bath oil. She'd start with "Attar of Roses" and work her way through the flower garden—honeysuckle, violet, gardenia, daffodil and hyacinth. She might even get some that smelled like spring. She'd have a different fragrance for every day of the week.

Barefoot, she padded back to her suitcase and took out a washcloth and a towel. They weren't plush like the ones hanging in that fancy bathroom, but they were hers. She rummaged around some more, looking for her soap. It was nowhere to be found.

She guessed she'd have to use some of Reeve Lawrence's soap. Maybe he wouldn't mind; and she'd be very particular, using just enough to get clean but not enough to be wasteful.

After her bath she dressed for dinner, then sat on the edge of the velvet love seat, pleating the folds of her skirt between her hands and waiting for Reeve's knock on the door.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the knock came. She quickly composed herself, then walked toward the door.

Just remember, she said to herself, you're not Belinda Stubaker anymore. You're Belinda Diamond and Belinda Diamond is _somebody._

Belinda pressed her hands flat on her stomach to still the butterflies dancing there, and then she flung open the door. Reeve Lawrence was standing in the hallway looking like something out of the movies. He nearly took her breath away.

He was dressed up, too, wearing a white shirt that set off his tanned skin and a jacket of raw silk. She knew, for she had once worked in a fabric store.

All at once she was glad she had worn her fanciest dress—the black rayon with red sequins on the shoulders. The skirt flared around her legs when she walked, showing her pantyhose to good advantage. She was proud of them. They had rhinestone hearts marching down the sides, and they sparkled when she walked. They had been a bargain, too. She'd found them on the marked-down table at a discount store. There was no telling what else she could have found if she'd had the time. But that was back when she was working at Pets and Paws, and she'd been on her lunch hour.

"Good evening." She held her hand out in a formal gesture, the way she'd seen it done in the movies she loved to watch late Saturday nights on the small screen TV in her apartment.

He took her hand just like one of the Hollywood heroes. Goose bumps prickled her arms. Oh, she was going to love Tupelo, Mississippi! Already she was off to a roaring start.

His eyes were crinkled at the corners and his mouth was quirked up when he let go her hand. It was such a friendly look she suddenly felt giddy.

"Look, I dressed for the occasion." She stepped back and twirled around, laughing. When she stopped twirling she could tell by the expression on his face that he'd noticed the rhinestone anklet on her left leg. His eyes were twinkling.

"I can see that you did."

"I added the anklet for a touch of glamour." She twirled again. "What do you think?"

What Reeve was thinking wouldn't do to tell. He'd never seen such an outrageous costume. On any other woman, it would have looked cheap and tacky. But on Belinda Diamond it looked just right, as if she were meant to sparkle from head to toe.

"Well?" Belinda prompted him.

"The anklet definitely adds a lively touch."

"I just knew you'd like it." She came toward him, smiling, and he offered her his arm. Instead of taking it, she slid her hand into his.

Reeve was caught off guard. Her hand was slim and fragile, almost boneless. She laced her fingers with his and smiled up at him in a totally artless way. He felt as if a warm breeze were blowing across him. And then he felt guilty. Sunny was the only woman he'd ever loved: the only woman he would ever love. He wasn't about to mistake his feelings for Belinda for anything except what they were—a certain kind of friendliness for a guileless stranger.

He decided to hold on to her hand a while longer—at least until they had reached the dining room—then he would graciously let her go. In the meantime, he saw no harm in giving in to the pleasant warmth that spread through him.

"I have a confession to make," Belinda said as they descended the stairs.

"You aren't going to tell me you're a cat burglar in disguise, are you?"

"This is serious." Belinda caught her lower lip between her teeth as she looked up at him.

"I'll be serious, then." He bent over her, giving her his full attention. The minute he did so, he knew it was a mistake. There was something magnetic about her face that made him want to lean closer and closer. Her skin was soft, her bow-shaped lips intriguing and inviting. But it was her eyes that held him under a spell. He leaned just a bit closer, but she wet her lips with her tongue, Reeve straightened up as if he'd been punched in the middle.

"What is this confession you have to make?" he asked, using his chairman-of-the-board voice.

"I used your soap."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well... you see, I forgot to bring my soap, and so I used some of yours. Not a whole lot, mind you, not enough to get up a great big lather. But just enough to wash away the travel dirt. A body does get dirty traveling on a bus."

"This is your big confession?"

"Yes."

He was torn between laughter and aloofness. In the end he compromised. His mouth quirked into a smile, but he didn't move closer to her. That was a mistake he wouldn't make again.

"You can use anything you like. You're my guest."

"Including the bath oil?"

"Including the bath oil."

"Well—" she thought of the Attar of Roses with a certain longing "—I don't want to be pushy."

"You can be as pushy as you like, Belinda. You'll discover that I'm not a man who is easily pushed."

"Will I?"

Her simple question brought him up short. Of course she couldn't discover his strength nor his stubbornness nor anything else about him. She wouldn't be around long enough. What was there about Belinda Diamond that made him forget who he was and who she was?

"If you were going to be here for any length of time, you might. But, of course, you'll be looking for a place of your own tomorrow, and we probably won't see each other again."

"I don't know so much about that." She reached over and squeezed his arm. "I don't like to let go of friends. Good friends are too hard to come by."

He felt as if he'd stepped into a pool of honey and was getting in deeper every minute. For a man who handled multimillion-dollar business deals on a regular basis, he was making a complete fool of himself with one sweet simple woman.

"Hmm," he said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Fortunately the dining room was just around the corner. "Well, here we are."

The familiarity of the setting grounded him in reality once more. Standing underneath his sparkling chandelier, pouring wine from his Waterford crystal decanter, he was completely in charge once more.

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Oh, Lordy me, no. The last time I had wine I got so wobbly I nearly fell off my high-heeled shoes. I didn't have all that much, either. Charlie said I must be allergic or something."

Laughing at herself, Belinda glided around the dining room, running her hand over the carved backs of chairs, stopping to admire the paintings on the walls, tilting her head sideways and back to look up at the chandelier.

Reeve didn't say anything immediately, but stood sipping his wine, watching her over the rim of his glass. With the lights sparkling down on her hair she looked like a long cool glass of lemonade. She was a tall woman, much taller than Sunny. With the right clothes and the right manners she would be elegant.

"Who is Charlie?" he asked. Not that it mattered, he told himself.

"Charlie Crocket. I met him at the Bull Pit up in St. Louis. He was wearing a cowboy hat about two sizes too big for his head, and he had the sweetest smile I've seen on a man. And Lordy, could he sweet-talk a woman."

Reeve was liking Charlie Crocket less every minute. He supposed there were lots of men who could sweet-talk the gullible Belinda Diamond. Knowing he would never stoop to such tactics made him feel noble.

"What is the Bull Pit?"

"A dance hall. I was a cocktail waitress. You should have seen my costume—a little old skirt that barely covered my privates and a fringed bra about as big as a handkerchief. Charlie said I looked like a ripe plum, fixing to pop off the tree."

Reeve nearly choked on his wine. "Indeed," he said when he had regained his composure. "And what else did Charlie say?"

"Lots. But I never let him pick my plums, I can tell you that."

"A woman of principle."

"You bet your boots."

Belinda lost interest in the subject and turned her inspection to the silver laid out in gleaming perfection on his table.

"Would you just look at that?" she said, lifting a fork. "It's like something a king would use. I never knew why anybody would want such fancy stuff to eat with. Me? I had some china that came from the grocery store. Got it with coupons. It was right nice. Had little blue chickens running around the border."

Reeve pictured Belinda dressed in her red high-heeled shoes and her sequined dress, sitting down to a modest meal served on cheap plates decorated with blue chickens. There was something comfortable and very homey about the picture. For a brief moment he felt nostalgic. He remembered a time when his own life had been simple—before he'd started his business, before he'd married Sunny Sinclair Wentworth.

He recalled his bachelor days, living in a two-room apartment, putting together deals on a mobile phone he'd bought at a discount store. It all seemed so long ago.

Belinda was inspecting the velvet draperies now, running her hands up and down their soft folds. She turned to him, smiling.

"One of these days I'm going to have me a house of my own. I'm going to put lace curtains in the windows and geraniums on the front porch, and in the evenings after work, I'm going to sit in a rocking chair at the window and watch the rest of the world scurrying by doing all the things people get in a hurry over. Me? I'll be listening to the birds sing through the open window in the summertime, and in the winter I'll listen to a little music on the radio."

Against his will, Reeve was caught up in her vision. He could picture her in the rocking chair, feel her contentment. In the space of one evening, he'd learned more about Belinda Diamond than he knew about most women after six months. Besides that, he found himself _wanting_ to know about her and interested in her background, her philosophies, her tastes in food and music.

With a start he realized that he was fascinated by her. It was a kind of subtle fascination that had sneaked up on him. And it was the dangerous variety, fed not by awareness of her as a woman, but by interest in her as a human being. He had neither time nor room for another person in his life.

He set his wineglass on a silver tray, then pulled out a chair for her. She looked at him with wise watchful eyes.

"You can sit here, Miss Diamond, on my right." _Miss Diamond, was it now?_ Belinda took the seat he offered and wondered what she had done wrong. Lordy, the possibilities were so endless it was mind-boggling. She'd never had dinner in such a fancy house. She'd never eaten off plates so delicate they looked like they would break if you put too many peas on them. What was more, she didn't know why anybody needed an extra fork for salad. One had always been enough for her. And three spoons. What in the world did you do with three spoons?

"Thank you," she said as she slid into her seat. That was plain good manners, and she knew about manners. Her mother hadn't been a Southerner for nothing. "This certainly is a big table just for two," she added to fill the awkward silence between them.

"The children will be joining us."

"Oh."

The seconds slowly crawled by, each one scratching along Belinda's nerves. She fidgeted in her chair, wondering how women of means dealt with such moments as this, sitting in an elegant room with a handsome man. She guessed they'd talk about art or something, like Molly and Joanna. Well, she was no woman of means, but she had practically been born talking. She could talk to anybody about anything.

Suddenly she focused on the most dramatic piece of art in the room, the enormous portrait of a woman, hanging on the wall behind Reeve's chair. She had been dying to ask him about it from the minute she'd seen it, and she guessed now was the right time, what with the conversation lagging till it was about to stall.

"That's a beautiful woman. Is she somebody real?"

"Yes. She was my wife."

At last she had a conversation started. Gazing at the portrait, she continued her winning tack.

"She sure was beautiful."

"Many people said so."

"You know, her hair looks kind of like mine. I guess you noticed."

"I did."

He wasn't saying much, but at least he was talking. Belinda was grateful for that, though it did seem he ought to do a bit better. He was a man who could use a few lessons in the art of conversation.

"Just fancy that. I must have given you quite a turn coming up the street with hair like your wife's." There was a silence from Reeve's end of the table. Keeping her eyes pinned on the portrait as if it were a beacon of hope, Belinda rattled on. "Was she tall like me?" No answer. "For a minute there I'll bet you thought I was a ghost." Deadly silence. "That is, if you believed in ghosts."

The silence was so huge now that it roared in Belinda's ears. She looked at Reeve and almost flinched. The expression on his face was thunderous, almost murderous.

Well, for goodness' sake. She knew she wasn't the most brilliant conversationalist in the world, but she hadn't been that bad. She refused to back down from his stare.

"You are nothing like Sunny, Miss Diamond," he said at last. "In fact, you don't even remotely resemble her."

"Oh-h-h," she said, drawing out the syllable, her eyes and mouth as round as cherries. Her first impulse was to straighten him out about his manners. Land, he was as prickly as an old porcupine. He certainly could use a lesson or two in behaving himself. Then she remembered that she was a guest in his house, and where in the world would she go tonight if he threw her out? She guessed she could call Clemmie, and then wait on the street to be picked up like some common strumpet.

In the end she folded her hands in her lap and lowered her eyes to shut out his face. From now on, she decided, she'd let him do the talking. That way, she'd be sure not to make any more mistakes.

She was saved further embarrassment by the children's entrance into the dining room. They were chattering and laughing, and Belinda had plenty to talk about with them. She remembered what it was like to be a child and interested in such things as building frog houses and making mud pies and playing hopscotch and skip-the-rope and trying to catch fireflies in the summertime.

The three of them soon had a lively conversation going that lasted all the way through the soup, though why in the world they had so many spoons just to eat soup with, Belinda couldn't have said. She was surprised when Quincy took the soup bowl and brought more food. Land, wouldn't it be easier to bring it all out at one time and get it over with? She'd never seen a meal take so long. She reckoned fancy folks spent half their time waiting for their food.

Though it was nice having the time to sit around the table and talk. She believed she was partaking of what was called a "leisure meal," sort of like the leisure suits that were so popular way back in the seventies. Charlie Crocket still had one. He was partial to vintage clothing. She wished Charlie could see her now. Wouldn't he bust a button?

"Did you really have a pet firefly?" Mark asked, bringing Belinda's attention back to the subject at hand.

"I sure did. Called him Wayne. I was living down in South Carolina at the time. Every evening I'd go out in the yard and say, 'Come on over here, Wayne. I want to talk to you.'"

"And did he come?" Betsy asked.

"Most times he would, but sometimes he was stubborn and wouldn't come until I promised to tell him a story."

Betsy clapped her hands. "Will you tell _us_ a story?"

Belinda glanced at Reeve. It was practically the first time she'd looked at him during the whole meal. His temper had improved a little. She guessed it was due to the roast beef. It was the best she'd ever had. Anyhow, his black eyes didn't look like they could cut you in half at twenty paces, and if she looked real close and used her imagination, she might even say he was trying to smile. She smiled back.

"Perhaps Miss Diamond will consider telling you a story after dinner, children. Dinnertime is for conversation, not stories."

A fat lot of conversation he'd thrown into the pot. Belinda took back her smile. It was wasted on him. What a shame. A man that handsome and with two beautiful kids and a big fancy house to boot ought to have a lot to smile about. She turned away from him and back to Betsy and Mark. Now there were two little people who knew how to make a body feel at home.

"After dinner, how about if we sit down together on that big old couch I saw in your living room and I tell you six stories?"

"That's kind of you, Miss Diamond," Reeve said.

"Kindness is easy when you like somebody. I like Betsy and Mark. Quincy, too. She's nice."

Reeve noticed that his name was left off the roster of people she liked. Funny that such a silly thing should bother him. Of course, he had given her cause not to like him, overreacting as he had to that business about the portrait. If he could undo what he'd said and start all over, he would. But he supposed it was just as well that he was excluded from her list of nice people. It was best to keep a distance from this woman who already had him thinking that cheap pantyhose with rhinestone hearts looked good.

"I'm delighted you're so appreciative of my family."

"You don't look delighted," Belinda blurted, and then she clapped her hand over her mouth. Now she'd done it.

For a moment Reeve looked as if he had been told an earthquake was fixing to happen right under his chair and carry him off to Glory Land, and then he started to laugh. Belinda was so relieved she nearly said her prayer of thanks out loud.

"I suppose I have been somber. Quincy sometimes calls me a bear." Reeve inclined his head toward Belinda. "My apologies, Miss Diamond."

"Lordy, if you don't stop calling me Miss Diamond, I'm not ever going to forgive you for being an old sore-tailed bear."

"Belinda it is, then."

"Well, now. That's better. It makes me feel perky again with everybody smiling and happy." She picked up her fork and speared a piece of pecan pie. When it was halfway to her mouth, she paused to smile at Reeve. "Don't you think life is sometimes so grand that if it gets any better you'll just swoon?"

"I haven't given the quality of life much consideration lately."

"I guess a man like you gets so busy counting his money he can't take the time to swoon."

Reeve chuckled again. "You're probably right."

Quincy came in to whisk away the dessert plates.

"We'll have coffee in the den, Quincy," Reeve told her.

Belinda stood up. "I'll help you, Quincy."

"Thank you, honey, but I been bringin' Mr. Reeve his coffee since he was knee-high, and they're some things don't need changin'." Quincy waved her apron at them.

"Now ya'll get on in the den and let old Quincy do her job. Scat now."

Reeve continued his study of his guest as he escorted her into the den. He had watched her all through the meal, silently marveling at the great pleasure she took in simple things. When she had talked about her childhood with Betsy and Mark, her face had lit up. Her pleasure was genuine, too. Reeve had dealt with people long enough to know the difference between falseness and sincerity.

And now, entering his den, Belinda was running her hands over his Chinese lacquered cabinets as if she had walked into the castle of one of her fairy tales. What was more, his children were enchanted with her. Her wonder infected them with high spirits, so that their laughter caroled through the house.

"Won't you sit down, Belinda? Quincy will be in shortly with the coffee." Reeve sat in a wing chair that afforded him a view of the entire room.

Belinda sat in the middle of the sofa, adjusting her skirt and crossing her legs. Then she leaned down and smoothed her hands over her calves, as if checking to see if her hose were in place. If the gesture had been calculated, Reeve would have been appalled. But it was totally artless—and so unexpectedly sensuous he felt the heat rise in his body. Her hair hung in a shining curtain down the side of her face as she bent over her leg.

Suddenly she parted her silken curtain of hair and glanced up at him through the folds of gold. "Are they straight now?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"My rhinestone hearts. Are they straight?"

"Um...yes."

"Good. When I'm all spiffied up, I like to stay that way, else what was the use of getting that way in the first place? Don't you agree?"

"Indeed." At the moment he would have agreed with anything she said, for his mind was still on that perfect row of hearts glittering down the side of her slim legs. He swung his attention to her hands. They were at rest now in her lap, but the way she had run them down her legs had been mesmerizing. In fact, she always used her hands in a sensuous manner. The way she touched his car, the way she touched his furniture, the way she reached up from time to time and smoothed her hair made him crazy inside. He must be going mad.

Reeve was saved when Quincy came in with the coffee. Belinda added two spoons of sugar and lots of cream to hers. He should have guessed she'd like it that way.

"Betsy... Mark..." Belinda smiled at his children, curled on either side of her. "Are you ready for your stories now?"

"Yes," they said at the same time.

"Tell the bestest one first," Betsy added.

Quincy, who joined them for coffee, leaned forward in her chair, as fascinated as Reeve's children by the folksy tales Belinda was weaving. Reeve knew he should go. Betsy and Mark were well entertained, and Quincy would watchdog them until bedtime, when he was called upon to tuck them in. Mountains of work waited in his office, and he needed to catch up, for tomorrow he would be interviewing nannies. But he was under Belinda's spell. Her stories were not mere tales to entertain his children, although he supposed that's how she perceived them; they were clues to the philosophy of the storyteller. The invincibility of the human spirit shone through all of them. They were stories of courage and bravery and the bright shining light of a spirit that could be neither daunted nor tamed.

Reeve was so caught up in Belinda and her stories that he didn't even note the passing of the hours. It was Quincy who finally announced it was way past the children's bedtime. They hugged Belinda and thanked her for the stories, then followed Quincy dutifully to their bedrooms.

Left alone with his guest, Reeve found himself still reluctant to part from her.

"You seem to have a way with children, Belinda."

"Lordy, I ought to. After Mother left I practically raised my two younger sisters. We never could afford a television set, so I had to do something to keep them occupied and out of trouble. You might say I learned to tell stories in self-defense."

Reeve refilled their coffee cups and watched as Belinda loaded hers with milk and sugar. She noticed him watching.

"I have a sweet tooth," she confessed. "I like sweet things so well it's a wonder I'm not big as a barrel. I guess I burn off all the calories by talking so much."

"Have you given any thought to what sort of work you will do here in Tupelo?"

"Oh, I can do just about anything—sew, cook, clean, type, cut hair. You might say I'm a jack-of-all-trades."

Any other woman in her position—homeless and probably almost penniless—would have been cringing with fear at her prospects, but Belinda remained unflappable. While he realized that her future was no concern of his, he didn't feel right just giving her a night's lodging, then letting her walk out his door tomorrow.

She had said she could type. Perhaps he could make room for her in his secretarial pool.

"You have computer training?" he asked.

"No. Taught myself to type on Daddy's old computer. The hunt-and-peck system, he called it. That was way back when we were living in Louisiana and he was having a whirl at being a newspaper man."

"I see." Strike Belinda Diamond from his secretarial pool Her hunt-and-peck system would give Gloria Grubbs a heart attack; and he'd have to hire a new senior business manager. He sipped his coffee, deep in thought.

"Well, now, look here..." Belinda set her coffee aside and crossed the room to stand in front of his chair. "You get that worried look right off your face. I sure don't want you thinking you have to try to find me a job, just because you were kind enough to let me stay the night in your house. Besides—" she paused, lifting her chin in a defiant gesture that set her hair a-swing. "—I've come to town a brand-new woman. I'm done with depending on somebody else. From now on I'm in charge of my own life."

Having finished her declaration of independence, she walked back to the sofa, her skirt dancing around her slim legs. It was a jaunty little walk that set his pulse racing. He glanced toward the double doors. Quincy had closed them behind her, as if she expected Reeve to need privacy with Belinda Diamond.

The doors were massive; the house was well built. A full-scale war could be conducted in each room with absolute assurance that the battle would not be heard in any other part of the house.

If Quincy could read his thoughts now, she would be delighted. Right now he was considering exactly how it would feel to hold Belinda Diamond in his arms, to run his hands through her silky hair and down the length of her rhinestone-shimmering legs.

Thank God she had said she could take care of herself. The sooner he got out of his den with Belinda, the better off he would be.

"I applaud your independence, Belinda. If you will allow me, I'll drive you into town tomorrow, perhaps to the employment office."

"Shoot, if you can just plant my feet on Main Street, I can have me a job in no time flat. I don't mind work, and people find that out quick enough. I never have had any trouble finding me a job, no matter where I am."

"Agreed. Main Street it is." Reeve stood up, relieved that his evening with Belinda Diamond had drawn to a close. She stood, too, taking her cue from him.

"I'm going to tuck the children in, and then I have work to do here in my office. Please feel free to indulge yourself. I have a vast library, and the television is here." He pulled aside the doors of an entertainment center to demonstrate. "There are DVDs - mostly Walt Disney, I'm afraid—if you want to watch a movie. And, of course, I have quite a collection of music—jazz, classical, blues."

Belinda looked at the entertainment center with a certain longing in her eyes, then shrugged.

"Oh, well... I'm sort of tuckered out. It was a long ride on the bus."

"Of course." He escorted her from the den, then turned to her in the hallway. "I have some business to take care of here at home in the morning. If you don't mind waiting, I'll drive you into town after I have finished."

"Thank you, Reeve." She offered her slim hand, and he held it a bit too long. Then he watched as she climbed the curving staircase to her bedroom.

He didn't know why he had thought she needed someone to teach her how to walk. There was a daredevil sort of elegance to her carriage, as if she were confident she was someone special. At the top of the stairs she turned slowly, smiling.

"Goodnight, Reeve."

"Good night, Belinda."

She lifted her slim hand until it was touching her lips, then ever so slowly, she blew him a kiss. The beauty of the gesture mesmerized him. He stood in the hallway gazing upward long after she had disappeared from the top of the stairs. And then he found himself touching his own face as if her kiss had actually landed there.

# Chapter Three

Reeve had started his interviews at eight o'clock that morning and already he had eliminated five nannies. He was beginning to despair. He turned his full attention to the current candidate, Miss Caroline Upchurch. So far, she was doing well in the interview. She had the right background, the right education.

"How do you discipline children, Miss Upchurch?" he asked suddenly, treading into treacherous waters.

"I slap their faces."

"You slap their faces?"

"Mr. Lawrence, there's no need to roar. My hearing is perfectly sound."

"It's not your hearing I question, Miss Upchurch, it's your judgment. You may go."

"But you didn't even ask about my background in art."

"Miss Upchurch, under no circumstances would I entrust my children to the care of a woman who believes in physical violence—even if you had painted the Sistine Chapel." He stood up, dismissing her.

She sniffed as she walked haughtily toward his office door. When she opened it, he caught a glimpse of Belinda Diamond, his first of the morning. She was wearing denims and a bright red shirt, and she was apparently engaged with his children in some sort of game. Betsy and Mark's squeals of laughter echoed through his open door.

He followed Miss Upchurch and stood leaning in his doorway. His son and daughter were hopping on the marble squares in the hallway, and Belinda was cheering them on. They didn't see him at first, and he enjoyed watching them.

Suddenly Belinda turned. Her face lit in a huge smile at the sight of him. " Hi!" She waved, then motioned him over. "Come join us."

"What are you playing?" He left his place at the door to stand beside her. She smelled like roses.

"Hopscotch. Your hall is the perfect place. It already has squares laid out and everything. We didn't even have to draw them off with chalk."

"You have chalk?"

"Sure. Got it from Mark's room."

"And you were going to draw squares in the hall?"

She put her hands on her hips and squared her chin. "It wipes right off. And anyhow, it's raining outside. The children can't play out in the rain."

"Hmm..." He considered her closely. She took his scrutiny in stride, looking him squarely in the eye. Belinda Diamond was not a woman who was easily intimidated.

Quite suddenly Reeve was overtaken with an idea so simple he wondered why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

"Would you mind stepping into my office?"

"Look, if it's about the chalk—"

"Forget the chalk—carry on, children. Belinda will be back soon." He was scrupulously careful not to touch her as he escorted her into his office. But even so, the fragrance of roses washed over his senses, reminding him of long walks in the moonlight on summer nights when the roses were in full bloom. He couldn't remember the last walk he'd had on a summer evening.

They stepped into his office, and he closed the door behind them. Belinda let out a big sigh. Thank goodness, he wasn't upset about the hopscotch game on his fancy marble floor. And whatever he wanted to talk to her about couldn't be all that bad, not in a room that looked as good as this one. It was homey and comfortable, not as elegant and forbidding as his dining room and his den. There were lots of books on the wall and window shades at the windows, drawn up so she could see the rain tapping against the panes. His desk chair looked cozy and big enough for two.

She slid a sideways glance at Reeve. My, he was wonderfully made. What would it be like to have a man like that all to yourself in a room like this? The first thing she would do was cuddle up to his broad chest in that big old desk chair. The thought made her smile.

"Won't you sit down, Belinda?"

She was still smiling when she sat down, even though Reeve had taken the chair behind his desk and now seemed more remote, like a king sitting on his throne.

She folded her hands in her lap and waited quietly for him to speak, but he acted as if he'd forgotten why he'd wanted her in here. He was as still as Abraham Lincoln in his great big old stone chair in Washington, D.C.—and nearly as scary-looking. Lord, she wished he'd smile. With his eyes all dark and his face so solemn, Reeve looked like he might be sizing her up for his dinner.

Belinda had never been the nervous type, so she didn't fidget. Instead she looked him right in the eye.

"Belinda, I've had a bit of ill luck this morning. I've been interviewing nannies. Unsuccessfully, I might add."

"That bunch of women I've seen parading in and out of here?'

"Yes."

Her face split into a big smile. "I don't blame you for calling them nannies. Especially that last one. She really did look like a goat."

Reeve burst into laughter. "Point well made." He sobered and picked up his letter opener. It was cool and heavy, and it gave him something to do with his hands—though he had never had trouble with his hands until he'd met Belinda Diamond.

"Since my wife's death, I have employed a succession of women to look after my children."

"I see." Belinda's heart went flip-flopping around her chest, and she felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. But she didn't dare get her hopes up too high. She knew the meaning of disappointment.

"Tomorrow I have to leave for a business trip to San Francisco, and I'd like to have someone here to help Quincy with the children. She's getting too old to manage the household and the children, too."

Belinda didn't know why he was beating around the bush so. He was beginning to make her nervous. She wanted to blurt out to him to get to the point, but she kept her peace. A part of being a new woman was learning not to speak before she thought.

His face had softened a little. "My children like you, Belinda."

"I like them."

"They are very precious to me."

"All children are precious."

Reeve relaxed a little. He wasn't given to impulse, and yet he had acted on impulse by bringing Belinda Diamond into his office and hinting that he might have a job for her. Now it seemed the best way to approach the interview was not to conduct an interview at all, but to continue with this informal discussion. Belinda was the kind of artless truthful woman who held nothing back. He had already learned enough about her to suspect that she would be a good nanny—temporarily, of course. And now, the things she said confirmed his opinion.

He plowed full speed ahead. "Betsy and Mark can sometimes be naughty and full of pranks."

"Shoot, you should have seen all the things I got into when I was their age. My daddy swore I was going to give him a heart attack before he reached thirty."

"I suppose you took your whippings."

"Whippings!" Her eyes got darker as she leaned forward in her chair. "My daddy never laid a hand on me. And I'll tell you another thing—anybody who does that to a child is a yellow-bellied, lily-livered coward who deserves to be strung up so the buzzards can gnaw on his insides."

Reeve's big laugh pealed around the room. Belinda had certainly spared no words in telling him what he wanted to know.

"Well, I didn't think it was all that funny." Belinda stood up." And if you're the kind of man who whips his children, then I'm in the wrong house. I don't even want to ride in the car with you down to Main Street, thank you very much."

Head high, she began her regal exit. Reeve hurried around his desk and caught her by the shoulders. She tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes still blazing.

"I would never touch my children in anger, nor would I allow anyone else to punish them in such a manner. I was merely testing you, Belinda."

"Why didn't you just come right out and ask? I'd have told you the truth."

"I know that."

Her face was still tilted up to his, and she was so close he could feel the pleasant warmth of her body and smell the intoxicating fragrance of roses. He had held on to her too long. What was more, he didn't want to let go. The knowledge was so disturbing that he hurried back to his chair. When he was safely behind his desk, he braced his hands and said softly, "Please don't go, Belinda."

"Well, I swear..." The legs of her jeans rubbing together made a soft swishing sound as she walked back to her chair. The sound crawled along Reeve's nerves. "What some men won't do to get a rise out of woman."

She fanned her hot face with her hand. Even that movement was elegant and somehow sexy.

"I have a business proposition for you, Belinda," he said, very much in charge once more.

"I'm all ears."

"Tomorrow, I leave on a trip to San Francisco, and I'd like to hire you as temporary nanny for my children."

"Temporary?"

The disappointment was clearly written on her face, but he wasn't about to make any long-term commitments to a woman whose mere presence was enough to shake both his judgment and his reserve. Besides, she was not suitable for the long haul. Betsy and Mark needed a woman well versed in art and literature and music, someone who could give them the training that Sunny would have if she were alive.

"Since you're planning to settle in Tupelo, I know you're looking for a job with more future, Belinda. And I certainly don't want to stand in your way."

"Shoot, you're not in my way. I guess I'd just go around you if you got in the way."

"So—" he leaned back in his chair "—are you willing to work for me for the next few days, Belinda?"

She would have crawled on her hands and knees and slobbered all over his feet for the chance to stay in his fairy-tale castle a while longer. Just think of all the grand times she would have exploring! On the other hand, she didn't want to appear too anxious. If you got too anxious, employers cut the pay down until it was next to nothing.

Belinda decided to speak right out, as bold as you please.

"How much does it pay?" He named a figure that had her gasping in surprise it was so high. "Lord have mercy! That sounds like so much money it's almost wasteful!"

"Good. Then it's agreed. I'll have Quincy inform you about the children's routine, then you may consider your duties officially begun."

He stood up, and waited for her to understand that the interview was over and she was being dismissed.

Instead, she snuggled down in her chair and gave his office a lively inspection.

"Just think—me in this wonderful house for a few days." She smiled at him. "Won't that be just grand?"

"I... suppose so." He hovered behind his desk like a benevolent professor indulging a favorite student.

"Last night when I was bundled up under that big soft comforter of yours in that pretty bedroom, I pretended this was my house. That every bit of this was all mine." She waved her hand around the room to encompass his bookshelves and his desk and his works of art and his Persian rug. "Why, I was just as happy as if I had died and gone to the Glory Land. That's how wonderful I think this house is."

He sank back into his chair. There was nothing alarming about Belinda's vision. In fact, he found it to be rather flattering. He had always taken pride in his home, and it pleased him to see that she loved it so.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Like it! Mercy me." She came out of her chair, as graceful and quick as a gazelle, and moved around till she was standing beside his chair.

She reached out and ran her hand lovingly along the back of his chair. He could barely feel her touch on the back of his neck. He reached for his letter opener, gripping it hard.

"If I lived in this big old house permanent-like..." She paused, gazing down at him. Her voice and her eyes had both gone dreamy. "You know, maybe with a husband and two kids all my own..." Her hand played softly along the back of his chair again, making his blood race. "Why, I expect I might have a hard time getting all my work done. Take this chair, for instance. If I had a husband, why, I'd curl up in his lap in this big old comfortable chair and smooch to my heart's content."

Her hands whispered along the leather again. "Smooching's nice, don't you think?"

He cleared his throat, and her warm hand slid along the back of his chair once more, grazing his neck. Suddenly his body responded like an old soldier who had been out of battle too long but who'd never forgotten how to win the war.

Blindly he reached for the intercom. _"Quincy!"_ He knew he was bellowing, but he was past caring. _"Will you come into my office?"_

Belinda jumped back from his chair as if she'd been shot. Land, she'd done it now. All that money down the tube just because she got carried away over his desk chair. Well, it was more than that, really, she thought as she made her way back to her own chair. Actually, she got carried away by him—by Reeve Lawrence. There was something powerful about that man. He was like a magnet drawing things toward him. Her, for one. She had felt the pull, and she had just naturally followed it. That's how she had ended up behind his chair, running her hands along the back, for goodness' sake.

And now she was going to pay the consequences. He was going to fire her even before she got started. Worse yet, he was going to have Quincy show her the door.

Maybe if she apologized—

_"Belinda,"_ he shouted before she could even open her mouth. She jumped again. He was making her as nervous as a cat, and she'd never even quivered at horror movies.

"About that chair now," she said. "I'm sorry."

God, it was bad enough to be in the state he was in, without her reminding him of the way her hands had slid gently along the back of his chair, brushing his neck like a cool summer breeze. He tried to rein himself in. The first thing he did was moderate his voice.

"Quincy is going to take you into the children's quarters and explain how I like things done."

Belinda looked at him with eyes as big as pansies, and her pink tongue flicked her lips. He wished she wouldn't do that. It was driving him mad.

Quincy's coming through the door saved him.

"You yelled, Mr. Reeve?"

"Sorry, Quincy. Please come in."

"That's more like it." Quincy came into the room, bringing with her the smell of cinnamon. "With you yellin' around here, comin' out of that box on the wall like a cyclone, I plumb tore the head off a gingerbread boy." She rubbed her hands on her apron. "You need to settle down a little. Take life a little easier before you kill yourself with a stroke."

He was already settling down some, thanks to her familiar and comforting presence. With Quincy in the room, life seemed normal again. Belinda Diamond was just a stranger passing through, and he was once more a businessman hiring a nanny.

"Quincy, I've hired Belinda as temporary nanny."

"Saints be praised." Quincy folded her hands in a prayerful attitude and lifted her eyes to heaven.

Reeve ignored her antics. "Will you please escort her to the children's quarters and familiarize her with their routine?"

"Why don't you do it yourself? I got gingerbread boys burnin'."

He would never have tolerated such impertinence in anyone else. But in the Lawrence household, Quincy reigned supreme. "I'm willing to sacrifice gingerbread boys." He stood up. "I'm going to my office downtown, Quincy. I'll be back late this evening in time to tuck the children into bed." He left the room quickly.

"What about lunch?" Quincy called after him.

"I'll grab a bite on the way to the office."

He didn't even stop and turn around, but called over his shoulder, "Don't keep dinner for me, either. I'll order Chinese."

The walk down his hall seemed endless. Fortunately his children weren't around to hamper his progress. He didn't want anything to stop his flight from Belinda Diamond, not even his beloved Betsy and Mark.

He burst through the door and headed blindly for his car. It wasn't until he was behind the wheel that he realized he had forgotten his briefcase. He'd send his office manager back for it. Let them all think what they would.

The sound of his engine roaring to life was reassuring. He was a busy man, driving a powerful car to a powerful job. He was Reeve Lawrence, a man in charge of his world.

o0o

Belinda followed Quincy to the children's quarters, but her mind was still on her new boss. He'd said he would order Chinese food. Suddenly the big old house yawned empty, all the furniture rattling around like noisy ghosts. That was ridiculous, of course. The children and Quincy were there.

"Now this is the children's bathroom," Quincy was saying. "They bathe every night at seven whether they're dirty or not. Mr. Reeve won't tolerate changin' the schedule."

Belinda tried to concentrate, but her mind was still on Reeve. Funny how a house seemed different with somebody special inside. A hot flush came into her cheeks. Lord have mercy. Somebody special! Here she was already making a fool of herself over that man—after telling herself she wouldn't do any such thing.

"And, of course, they usually eat meals just as regular as a clock—breakfast at seven, lunch at twelve and dinner at eight, with a snack at four in the afternoon."

"But what if they're right in the middle of a game at four o'clock? Or what if they get hungry at three?"

"There's no changin' the schedule. But I'll tell you a little secret. I got a cookie jar stashed in the kitchen for just such emergencies. Anytime they get hungry, all they got to do is sneak by and dig in, and I act like I'm not even lookin'."

Belinda and Quincy laughed together. Both of them were already liking the new arrangement enormously.

Belinda stayed busy the rest of the day, and it wasn't until nightfall that she had time to notice Reeve's continued absence. He was still at the office, she guessed, eating his lonely meal of Chinese food. She pictured him in another desk chair big enough for cuddling. If such a man belonged to her she'd be down at that office in a shake, perched on the edge of his desk with her shoes off and her feet in his lap, laughing at something funny that had happened that day and eating bites of Chinese food off the same fork. Wouldn't that be just dandy?

She stood at the window of her bedroom, gazing out. The moon slithered from behind the trees, big as a yellow balloon.

"Belinda Stubaker," she whispered fiercely, "don't you dare go messing up this job on account of feeling swoony and foolish over the boss."

She stayed at the window a while longer, hoping for a glimpse of his car as he came up the driveway, but it got late and he never came. Quincy had said he always tucked the children into bed when he was in town. She guessed she'd run him off from his own children with all her talk of smooching in a big old desk chair.

It was bad enough that she was acting under an assumed name. The least she could do was learn to hold her tongue.

Sighing, she went upstairs, opened her laptop and checked her emails.

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Janet, Joanna, Bea, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: Reeve Lawrence

Daddy says he's not an ax murderer; he's a wealthy, prominent businessman, respected by everybody in Tupelo. Is he handsome? He sounds like McDreamy! You know, a little older, but sexy.

Much love,

Molly

From: Joanna

To: Molly, Belinda, Clemmie, Bea, Catherine, Janet

Re: McDreamy

OMG, I LOVE older men!!! Tell ALL!!!

Big Hugs!

Joanna

From: Janet

To: Molly, Joanna, Belinda, Clemmie, Bea, Catherine

Re: Cloud Nine

All right. Time out. Belinda is looking for a _job,_ not a _man._ Listen, Belinda, I don't care if this Reeve Lawrence has a gold _you know what_ , I want you to get your feet on the ground before you go getting starry eyed. Remember, we're all _independent women._

Xo

Janet

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Janet, Molly, Joanna, Bea, Clemmie

Re: Belinda's Future

Wait a minute. Aren't we all looking for a man? Not now, of course, but eventually. As long as we don't have to depend on a man, then Mr. Right will just be icing on the cake.

Belinda, sweetie, Janet has a point about getting a job before you go off the deep end over this Reeve Lawrence. I know how romantic you are, but you don't want to end up an old woman of forty having to ask a man for money, even if he is your husband.

Xoxo

Catherine

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Janet, Bea, Catherine, Joanna, Molly

Re: Mr. Right

If a Mr. Right ever came to Peppertown I'd be willing to put my Virginia on the line without a wedding ring. Gracious, this town is so dead they roll up the streets at night. Hang in there, Belinda! Sounds like Tupelo was a good choice for you.

Hugs,

Clemmie

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie

Re: THE JOB, THE MAN

How _old_ is this man? Some old Friday fart with children sounds too old to me. If I'm going to save it all for the proverbial Mr. Right, I'm going to find a young stud. I want whipped cream with my icing. And BTW, girls, in case you have forgotten the _E word_ , jobs don't grow on trees. In this economy Belinda will be lucky to land a job this time next year.

Do you need $$$, Belinda? Just say the word.

Hugs,

Bea

From: Belinda

To: Bea, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie, Joanna, Molly

Re: Celebrate

I GOT A JOB!!! I'm Reeve's new nanny, and I'll be making more money than a schoolteacher! Bea, he's not an old Friday fart, and Janet, I'm not about to let him pick my plums. I don't know how old he is, but he's really nice, and his kids are adorable. There's this great old woman living here – Quincy – who used to the nanny, I think, but she feels more like family than anything else. It's all so cool. And I'm very happy.

Xo

Belinda

She turned off her email, but she was too wound up for sleep. For one thing, she felt a little guilty that she'd neglected to tell her friends that the job was just temporary, but then they'd get all worried again, Janet and Catherine would start in about college and Clemmie would want to drive from Peppertown and get her.

Belinda went to window and leaned her head against the glass. Miraculously, she found herself thinking not about her job but what it would be like if Reeve came up the driveway, got out of his car, and then stood there in the moonlight looking up to catch a glimpse of her.

A girl can dream, can't she?

# Chapter Four

Reeve got up the next morning before anybody in the house was stirring. He went quietly down the stairs, carrying his suitcase and telling himself how much he liked early-morning solitude. Nobody around to muddle his thinking. Nobody around to clutter the tidiness of his house. Nobody around to distract him.

Downstairs he tiptoed into his children's bedrooms and kissed their sleeping faces. Always when he flew out before they awakened, he left chocolate kisses on their pillows. In each bedroom, he pulled the kisses out of his pockets and placed them gently on Mark's and then Betsy's pillows. Then he went outside and got into his car.

He sat behind the wheel, letting the engine warm up and gazed back at his house. Something drew his attention upward. There was a face at the window, a lovely face surrounded by bright shiny hair. Belinda Diamond.

The engine idled while he continued to stare at the face in the upstairs window.

Suddenly the window flew open, and her delicate hand fluttered toward her bow-shaped lips. Like a small bird, her hand floated gracefully downward, dropping the kiss in the direction of his car. Unconsciously he caught the kiss and pressed it against his own lips.

The engine idled louder, catching Reeve's attention. What was he doing? Had he lost his senses?

He tore out of the driveway as if the hounds of hell were barking at his heels. Belinda was still at the window. He didn't have to look back to know; he could _feel_ her there, watching him with her big dark eyes, waving that lovely expressive hand.

He touched his lips again.

An image of Sunny floated up before him—Sunny with her bright hair and her bright laughter, Sunny with her charm and her laughing eyes. She had always seen him off. She used to walk down the staircase with him, arm in arm. At the doorway she would stand on tiptoe and kiss him goodbye. It was a ritual he'd cherished.

Her image began to fade, and in its place came the face of Belinda with her impertinent mouth and her mysterious eyes, Belinda with her rhinestoned stockings and her red spike-heeled shoes. She was outrageous and unconventional, a woman whose education had been on the back roads and in the beer joints and the cheap rooming houses of the world. And yet... twice she had blown him kisses in a manner as eloquent as any finishing-school lady, kisses he foolishly coveted and secretly longed for.

What was happening to him? It was a damned good thing he was going to San Francisco. As soon as he got back, he would drive Belinda Diamond to downtown Tupelo and let her out on Main Street, just as he had promised. With the money he was planning to pay her, she would be set for a long time, certainly long enough to find a decent job.

And then she wouldn't be his concern anymore. Once again she would be a stranger to him, and his life would go on as it had before she came, its carefully structured schedules hiding whatever flaws there were in the fabric of his daily routine.

o0o

After he had checked into his hotel in San Francisco, the first thing he did was call home. It was a part of his routine. The children needed to hear his voice and he needed to hear theirs. It would be mid-afternoon back home, almost time for their snack.

He dialed his home number and waited.

"Hello, there. I mean, Lawrence residence."

Reeve's hand tightened on the receiver. Belinda's voice brought her into his room as plainly as if she had made the trip to San Francisco with him.

"Where's Quincy?" He knew he was being rude, but he excused himself by claiming flight fatigue. His lack of manners had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he had hoped a thousand miles would take Belinda Diamond out of his life, at least temporarily.

"She's a dragon."

"She's a what?"

"Well, you see, it started raining along about noon, and I decided to build a castle in the den. So we set up the card table and draped it with a sheet, and Betsy decided the castle needed a dragon, and since I was the queen and she was the princess and Mark was the dashing knight in shining armor, Quincy had to be the dragon."

"That explains it, of course." Reeve couldn't disguise the indulgent tone of his voice. When Belinda told a story, she had a way of involving the listener, so that right now, standing in the middle of his generic hotel room with its standard puffy comforter on the bed and its ubiquitous white towels hanging on the bar in the bathroom and its strip of paper certifying that the toilet was sanitary, he was caught up in Belinda's make-believe castle.

The fantasy made him homesick. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been homesick.

"Quincy's down on the floor now, growling. Do you hear her?"

Belinda must have held the receiver out toward the castle, for Reeve caught the sounds of laughter and a deeper, more guttural sound that must have been Quincy's dragon.

"Did you hear her?" Belinda sounded breathless and cheerful. He wondered if she was wearing stockings with rhinestone hearts on the sides.

"She sounded right fierce to me."

Belinda's laughter pealed through the receiver, the happy sound filling his drab hotel room, making it seem less lonely. "I'll tell her you said that."

"Please do. Tell her if she keeps on making such a good dragon, I might have to increase her salary."

Reeve was feeling more cheerful himself. He hadn't engaged in frivolous small talk in years.

"My, my, it's just grand to hear your voice," Belinda said.

That sobered Reeve quickly enough. It would be best not to foster any false hopes she might have. "May I speak with my children, please?"

"Oh..." Her voice was colored with disappointment. There was a brief pause, and then her voice came back to him as perky as ever. "Well, naturally that's why you called. I knew that all along—Mark!" she called, then another pause. "He's coming. He just had to park his horse. Oh, wait till you hear about the moat we're planning to build around the castle. It was all Mark's idea. We're going to... Wait a minute. Here's Mark."

His son came on the line and Belinda Diamond was gone. Suddenly the emptiness of his hotel room struck Reeve, and a great lonesomeness settled in the pit of his stomach.

Reeve spent the next ten minutes listening to his children's happy chatter, and it wasn't until he had hung up the phone that he remembered he had never found out about the moat. He could just picture it: Belinda digging a trench in his Persian rug, and his children dumping in buckets of water. Quincy, of course, would be standing by with the mop, laughing her head off. She had always encouraged rowdiness in his children.

Reeve smiled. What did a Persian carpet matter? Happy children were the most important thing. And from the sounds of things, they were certainly happy with their new temporary nanny.

o0o

Reeve called home again that evening. He didn't usually make two calls home in the same day, but he figured these were unusual circumstances. After all, Belinda was new to the job, and he would be foolish not to make sure that her first day without him around had gone smoothly.

When she answered the phone, he smiled. He went on smiling as long as she kept saying into the receiver, "Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?"

"It's Reeve."

"Reeve." She sort of sighed his name.

"I just called to..." His mind drifted off again. _To hear your voice,_ he thought. _To make myself smile. To feel your presence in this lonesome hotel room._

"Yes?"

"...to see how the children are."

"They're wonderful, of course. All bathed and fed and tucked into their beds, right on schedule. Well, almost. We were a little late with the baths on account of Mark's moat getting out of hand." She paused for breath, and Reeve hung on to the receiver, waiting for the sound of her voice. "See, we got kind of carried away cutting up all that blue paper for the water, and then Betsy decided it was hot in the castle under the table, and Quincy brought an oscillating fan out of her room, and the paper started blowing everywhere—I'm afraid some of it might still be lurking around in the top bookshelves."

Reeve had a wonderful time imagining the four of them chasing after the paper moat. They would have been laughing like crazy. He wished he'd been there.

"You're awfully quiet, Reeve. Does this mean I'm fired?"

"Absolutely not."

"Are you having trouble on your end of the phone?"

"No. Why?"

"Because all of a sudden you seem to be roaring."

Of course he had been roaring. Just the thought of firing Belinda Diamond was enough to make him bellow like a bull. How anybody could be heartless enough to fire the woman was beyond him.

"You'll have to excuse me, Belinda. I must have had a frog in my throat." He cleared his throat for effect. It was clearly time to end this conversation. "Keep up the good work, Belinda."

"Will you call again?"

There was a long silence. Then Reeve said, "Yes, I'll call again." Another silence in which the sound of their breathing mingled over the long-distance line. "I'll call every day—to check on the children."

"Oh. Well, goodbye. Sweet dreams, Reeve."

He spent so long thinking about sweet dreams that she had hung up the phone before he could say goodbye. It was just as well. Things were getting out of hand in San Francisco as surely as they had in Tupelo.

Maybe it was his age. Maybe thirty-five was too old to cope with bringing up two children and dealing with a succession of nannies.

He stretched himself across his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Wouldn't it be nice if everything back home were settled into such a perfect routine that he didn't have the constant worry of keeping everything in control with his bare hands and the force of his iron will?

o0o

The next morning when Reeve awoke, the first thing he thought of was calling home. He picked up his watch and looked at the luminous dial. It was a good time to call, but he decided to wait a few hours.

Right before his luncheon meeting he slipped upstairs to his room and dialed home. Quincy answered, and disappointment washed over him.

"Mr. Reeve! You ought to see the children. Happy as pigs in the sunshine. That Belinda Diamond is somethin' else, I tell you. Hmm-mm."

She said all that before he even had a chance to do more than identify himself.

"Quincy," he said, "Quincy—"

But she rattled on. "Miss Belinda's been showin' the children how to cook." Her booming laughter sounded over the line. "You ought to see this kitchen. Looks like a cyclone hit it. Chocolate everywhere." She laughed again. "The children haven't had this much fun in a month of Sundays."

"May I speak to them?" Reeve asked when Quincy paused for breath.

"They're all up in the tree. Let me see which one is closest to the ground."

Reeve heard her heavy footfalls, then the sound of her voice yelling, "Miss Belinda! Telephone!"

Quincy got back on the line. "She's a-comin'. Now don't you worry about a thing. Just go on and have a high time out there. I'm getting along with Belinda just like a house on fire. Here she is."

Funny how the sound of a voice could put a shine on the entire day. Reeve found himself smiling from the minute Belinda said her first lilting hello.

"Hello? Hello? I'm so out of breath. Can you hear me, Reeve?"

"I hear you."

"We've been climbing a tree."

"Yes, I know."

"It was Mark's idea. That son of yours is quite lively."

"I suppose you climbed the tree, too?"

"Well, naturally. You don't think I'd let your children try something before I did. I had to check and see if all the limbs were sturdy enough."

"And were they?"

"Well, I got down in one piece except for a little scratch on my arm."

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"Shoot, no. Betsy kissed it and made it better."

"I see." Reeve imagined kissing Belinda's arm to make it better. He could almost smell the roses on her skin. His breathing got shallow, and he forgot what he'd been going to say next.

Fortunately Belinda didn't notice his silence. She talked on, as cheerful as a salesman in a car commercial, and all he had to do was listen to her stories and the musical sound of her voice.

o0o

The four days he was in San Francisco, calling home twice a day got to be a habit. And it was funny how often he hoped Belinda would be the one who answered the phone. As Quincy would say, "That just goes to show..." He didn't try to figure out what it went to show; he just drifted along, enjoying knowing that Belinda was making his children happy and that she was happy herself, and counting the days till he would be home.

o0o

Belinda was the first to see his car coming up the drive. "Reeve's home!" she yelled, and went racing through the front door and down the porch steps.

When he stepped out of the car, so handsome with the late-afternoon sun shining in his hair, she came to a screeching halt. Dear Lord in heaven, what was she thinking of? Fixing to jump into her boss's arms like he was Charlie Crocket come home on payday with a bonus in his pocket? Even Charlie hadn't much liked her habit of jumping all over him with big hugs and kisses. She could just imagine what Reeve Lawrence would do. Why, he'd disappear into himself like an oyster, leaving nothing but the hard shell for her to deal with.

She stopped beside the gardenia bush, put her hands behind her back and tried to look proper. Thank goodness he couldn't know that her skin was all a-tingle and her heart was pumping and her body felt warm, like she had been sitting in front of a good hot fire.

"Hello, Belinda," he said the minute he was out of the car. That was all he said, just hello, then stood there looking at her.

_Belinda Stubaker,_ she warned herself, _just you remember he's your boss._

"Reeve, it's good to have you home." She was proud of herself for sounding so calm and ladylike.

"It's good to be home."

He walked toward her and caught her elbow, and she shivered inside like dynamite had been set off next to her heart. He had been gone so long she had forgotten what being next to a powerful man felt like.

She managed to contain herself till they got inside the house, and then she was rescued by Mark and Betsy. While they hugged and kissed their daddy, Belinda sidled off and sank into a chair where she pressed her knees together and folded her hands tightly over her stomach. She thought she was going to be sick. Now, wouldn't that be embarrassing?

Any other person would be jumping for joy at the return of a boss who was fixing to pay you a lot of money. And she had at first. Jumped for joy, that is. But not necessarily because of her salary. Now all she could think about was that in the next twenty minutes or so, Reeve would pay her off and load her bag into his fancy car and drop her off somewhere on Main Street. She hoped she could act happy about the whole thing.

Mark and Betsy were both talking at once, and every now and then she could tell Reeve was adding his two cents' worth just by the rumble of that rich voice, but she didn't have any idea what they were saying. She was too busy trying to figure out how to act grateful when her heart was fixing to break in two.

"Belinda." She jumped at the sound of her name. Lordy, she was getting fidgety. Reeve walked to her chair and stood over her like some great Greek god. She could hardly get her breath. "Will you come with me to my office, please?"

She opened her eyes wide and noticed that Quincy was disappearing down the long marble hallway with Betsy and Mark. She wanted to call after them to stop, come back. As long as they were in the hall, she would be spared going into that office for her walking papers.

"Certainly," she said, sounding far more sophisticated than she had any right to sound. Maybe being in such a fancy house was rubbing off on her. Her daddy had always said she was a quick study and a great mimic.

In his office, Reeve motioned her to the same chair she had sat in the last time. Then he got behind his important-looking desk and sat in his chair, big enough for two. There was no mistaking his intent. Clearly he was the boss and she was the hired help.

Belinda waited. She knew about being patient. Hadn't she spent many hours of her childhood waiting in her daddy's car in one strange town or another while he walked the streets looking for a job?

"Quincy and the children have made quite a case for you," Reeve said finally.

"I didn't know I was on trial."

Reeve laughed. Belinda thought that was a good sign.

"You know this job was only temporary."

"I know. My suitcase is all packed and ready."

Reeve spent another long while in the study of his steepled hands. Thin lines etched themselves around his mouth.

"You are anxious to go, I suppose, anxious to get on with your life."

"Oh, no." She almost came out of her chair. He looked startled, and she sat back down and crossed her legs at the ankles like a lady. She had her pride. "Of course, I have my own life to live and all, but one of the best times I've ever had has been staying in this house these past few days, taking care of your children. They're wonderful. And so is Quincy. We've had us a ball while you've been gone."

"So I gathered."

They held each other in silent regard for a long time. A soft twilight began to gather outside the windows, and summer breezes sprang to life in the trees.

Reeve's checkbook was only four inches from his hand, but he felt a strange reluctance to reach for it.

What was happening to him? Business had always been the easiest part of his life. Why was he hesitating about taking care of business with Belinda Diamond?

He looked down at his hands, still tightly entwined in a steeple. A little while longer, he said to himself. He would indulge his foolish need to keep her in his office a little while longer.

"It's almost dark outside," he said.

"I know."

"I believe our original bargain was that I would drive you to Main Street and leave you."

"That's what we said."

"Naturally I can't leave you on Main Street in the dark."

"You can take me to a motel."

Was she that eager to leave him? Was he such a bear that she couldn't wait to be out of his sight? She had said the past few days were one of the best times of her life, but that had nothing to do with him. She had specifically mentioned his house and his children.

Had he been fantasizing out in San Francisco? Had he imagined the magic that happened every time he called home and heard her voice? Men under pressure had done worse things.

His hand shot out and grabbed his checkbook. There was no need to prolong this parting. He wrote her check with a sure firm hand and slid it to her across the desk.

"I hope this proves satisfactory."

She read the amount, then quietly folded it and tucked it into her skirt pocket.

"Quite. Thank you," she said, then stood up.

_She_ was ending their meeting. Reeve had to admire her style. He pushed back his chair and came around the desk. It was one of the few times in his life he was at a loss for words.

Belinda gazed steadily at him, her dark eyes luminous. "I'll get my suitcase." She moved toward the door.

"Wait."

She turned slowly around and stood watching him. He shoved his hands into pockets.

"There's no need for you to leave tonight."

"You've paid me. My work here is finished."

"Would you allow me a small gesture of thanks? Will you spend one more night under my roof?"

Belinda didn't believe in long goodbyes. They hurt too much. Best to pack up and get out while the going was good, so to speak. But there was something in him that seemed to be crying out to her. She knew, though, that she didn't need to start off her new life by mixing herself up with somebody who needed as much fixing as Reeve Lawrence.

Still, he was giving her a chance to dream just a little while longer. Oh, she did love his house so!

"Yes. Thank you," she finally said. "But if you don't mind, I'm a little tired. I think I'll spend the evening in my room. I'll say goodbye to Betsy and Mark, then grab a bite in the kitchen before I go upstairs."

"As you wish."

She left the room, and Reeve stood a long time watching the closed door. He didn't know what he was expecting. Perhaps that Belinda would come back into the room, laughing and talking about life being grand, running her hands over the back of his chair and sending his pulse racing. She had claimed to be tired. How could that be? Once she had told him life was too exciting to get tired and miss any of it.

The minutes ticked by and still the door to his office stayed closed. In his soundproof house, there was not even the murmur of voices to tell him he was not alone. He might have been the only person on the planet.

Suddenly he turned and slammed his palm down on his desk. The quick jolt of pain brought him back to his senses.

"Don't be a fool," he muttered, then strode from his office to spend some time with his children.

o0o

Belinda sat in the middle of Reeve's fancy guest bed, the only light in the room coming from the glow of the screen on her laptop.

From: Belinda

To: Catherine, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie, Janet, Bea

Re: My job

I didn't tell you this job was only temporary. Pride, I guess. But now I'm back where I started. Well, almost. Now I've got two little children wrapped around my heart, and their daddy, besides.

Janet, I know you cautioned me about not going gaga over Reeve, but I reckon the heart doesn't pay the least bit of attention to reason.

The good thing is that I now have enough money to last till I can find a really great job. I'm staying here, though. I like it in Tupelo.

Xoxox

Belinda

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Joanna, Bea, Catherine

Re: McDreamy

OMG, I'm crying! I need to get home and give you a big hug. Those poor little children, and poor you! Call Daddy. He has friends all over town. He'll help you find a job.

Hugs,

Molly

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Clemmie, Janet, Joanna, Bea, Molly

Re: New Situation

Hang in there, sweetie, and take Molly's advice. First, though, why don't you come down to New Orleans? My little apartment off campus is just a street car ride from Bourbon Street. We can have a few beers, listen to great jazz, and chill.

Xoxo

Catherine

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Clemmie, Catherine, Bea, Molly, Joanna

Re: New Orleans

New Orleans is a great idea, Belinda. Tulane is a gorgeous campus! You might like it so much, you decide to stay. You can make lots more money with a college degree. Love you a bunch, kiddo.

Xo

Janet

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Joanna, Molly, Bea

Re: Reeve and the children

I'm crying, too! Let me drive over there and get you. We can sit in the gazebo and talk and cry and laugh and maybe even come up with a wonderful plan. Say yes!

Hugs,

Clemmie

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Molly, Bea, Clemmie

Re: Fight!

You fell in love with McDreamy and you're LETTING HIM GO??? If I ever fell in love, I'd take somebody to the mat before I'd give up!!!!

Big Hugs!!!!

Joanna

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Molly, Catherine, Joanna

Re: Headache

McDreamy, my butt. Just thinking about going to the mat for a man gives me a headache. If a guy hasn't got enough balls to fight for my scintillating self, he can take his toys and go somewhere else; I don't care if they are gold-plated.

Dang, I got on my high horse and forgot the main purpose of this email. COME TO TEXAS. Everything's big out here, including the job market. Besides finding you a job, we'll kick up our heels and yell _Yee Haw!!!_

Hugs,

Bea

Belinda was smiling when she shut off the computer. Girl power. You couldn't beat it.

She brushed her teeth then climbed into a bed. But who could sleep with Reeve in the next room?

o0o

That night Reeve's dreams were haunted by a pair of bow-shaped lips and a sassy pair of legs. Belinda Diamond was running down the staircase to meet him, her arms outstretched. Then the staircase dissolved and she was in a flaming sports car, plunging to the bottom of a ravine.

Reeve awoke in a sweat. He threw the covers back and walked to his bedroom window. There was a faint tinge of pink in the east. Soon it would be morning. He stood at his window until sunrise, and then he dressed quickly and went downstairs.

He didn't see Belinda at first. She was sitting in a chair drawn close to the staircase, her face in shadow. His shoes clicked on the marble tile as he passed her.

"Good morning, Reeve."

At the sound of her voice, he whirled around. She was sitting with her feet together and her hands folded on her lap. A spray of artificial flowers decorated her left shoulder, and her cardboard suitcase sat at her feet. Even from the short distance that separated them, she looked small and faraway, as if she had already left his house and was rapidly disappearing from sight.

"I see you're packed and ready to go."

"Yes."

His footsteps sounded loud as he strode toward her. When he was even with her chair, he stopped.

"Belinda, I don't want you to go," he said simply.

She tipped her face up to him and gave him that steady head-on look he so admired.

"And what would I be doing if I stayed? My temporary job is over." She rose with great dignity, standing tall in her red spike-heeled shoes. "I don't plan to loll around this fancy house taking your charity."

The beautiful simplicity of the plan that had come to him in the wee hours suddenly made Reeve laugh. She looked at him as if he had gone crazy, and he supposed he had. Or maybe he was just coming to his senses.

"Come with me," he said, taking her arm and hauling her unceremoniously down the hall to his office. He left her cardboard suitcase sitting in the hall.

"Where are you taking me?"

"I don't conduct business standing in the hallway."

"Business?"

He looked down at her, smiling. Why he hadn't seen the obvious sooner was beyond him. The thing he had been searching for was right under his nose. Forget a nanny well versed in the arts; what he needed was a reliable kindhearted nanny with common sense.

"Yes, business. Miss Belinda Diamond, we're going to draw up your contract as my permanent nanny."

He was so pleased with himself that he didn't notice his slip of the tongue; but Belinda did. In amongst her visions of living in her dream house for the next ten years or so and having her very own room and lots of security and maybe a chance to put geraniums on the front porch, even if it wasn't really her porch, came a vision of herself as _Reeve's_ nanny. Now there was a thought.

She turned her head sideways and grinned at him. "I accept the job." In between caring for the children and helping Quincy, she would have plenty of time left over to work on Reeve Lawrence.

The first thing she thought she'd fix was his social life. All he ever did was work. It was high time the man started having a little fun.

# Chapter Five

From: Belinda

To: Clemmie, Joanna, Molly, Janet, Catherine, Bea

Re: My Permanent Job

I've been Reeve's nanny for two weeks, and you wouldn't believe the changes I've made. There's music all the time now. Reeve has a wonderful collection of CDs, and the kids and I have such fun deciding whether to play classical or jazz. Joanna, you'll be glad to hear that I now know the difference between Bach and Beethoven. That fancy school in Madrid has nothing on Reeve's house.

His library is fantastic! I can read anything I want, anytime and he never considers it slacking. "I love to see you spending time in the library with the children," he says. See, Janet and Catherine, I don't need to go to college to learn! And Molly, Reeve's collection of art would have you swooning. Not to mention his looks. He's a bit older, thirtyish, I'd guess, but he's much more handsome than McDreamy!

Quincy's a lot of fun, and Bea, you'd approve of the way she runs this house.

Oh, and did I mention that Reeve is old fashioned, like me? He has this courtly way about him that reminds me of Prince Charming in the Disney movies. He's kind and generous and thoughtful. My paycheck is so big I sometimes feel like a downright thief taking all that money.

Joanna, I might not be going to the mat for him – I'm not as feisty as you – but I'm making doggone sure he knows that Belinda Diamond is putting her stamp on this house.

Xoxoxo

Belinda

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Janet, Bea, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie

Re: Diamond

OMG, sweetie! Did you say _Diamond?_ How's he going to report Social Security?

Catherine

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Catherine, Bea, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie

Re: Your Name

Cat's right. Don't you _dare_ let this man get by without paying Social Security on you. What about health insurance? He ought to be paying that for you and Quincy both. _Nobody_ can ever afford hospital care without it!

Janet

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Joanna, Molly, Bea

Re: Records

Oh, Belinda, do set the record straight. Reeve Lawrence sounds amazing and you don't want the IRS breathing down his neck. Still, I really like the name Diamond. It sounds incredible, exactly like you!

Clemmie

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie, Molly, Bea

Re: Reeve Lawrence

I can't wait to get home and meet this man! He sounds as awesome as Kirk!!!! I don't know why I've never heard of him.

Joanna

From: Molly

To: Joanna, Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie, Bea

Re: Fabulous news!

Daddy says Tupelo's growing by leaps and bounds. That's probably why you never heard of him, Joanna. Oh, Belinda, I don't care what you call yourself! I'm so happy for you!!!

Molly

From: Bea

To: Joanna, Molly, Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie

Re: I'm gonna puke

Belinda, if I hear how wonderful this man is one more time I'm gonna puke! You barely _know him_! Straighten out that mess about your legal name, then just sit back and breathe. If this Lawrence character is all that wonderful, he'll see what a treasure you are, and he won't waste a minute heaping accolades on _you!!!_ Remember what Mother said. _Let a man chase you until you catch him._ Of course, what do I know about men? With my track record, my Virginia is going to bald and gray before anybody ever gets near it!

Bea

o0o

Although Reeve hadn't seen much of Belinda except at the dinner table, he had been keeping close tabs on her through Quincy and the children. He received daily glowing reports from both his housekeeper and his children about Belinda's magical powers as a nanny.

Not that he'd been avoiding her, he told himself as he drifted toward the sound of the music. He'd been busy catching up with his work now that he didn't have the constant worry of finding and keeping a good nanny for his children.

Light and music poured through the open doorway, and it seemed that his den had been transformed into a place of enchantment. When he reached the door, he saw Belinda, draped in scarlet chiffon and rhinestones, her arms lifted gracefully over her head, waltzing and twirling.

She came to a stop in front of him. "Hello." Her smile was radiant. "Fancy meeting you like this."

Before he could say anything, she drifted off in a whirl of chiffon skirts, dancing to the music until she had made another circuit of the room. When she was even with him once more, she paused, arms still lifted over her head.

"Well, hello again."

Reeve's gaze lingered on her face, then moved to the soft blue-veined skin of her upper arms. He could see her pulse beating there, like tiny wings of a trapped butterfly. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off that vulnerable spot.

"Here it is, this lovely summer evening—" her voice wove itself around his mind, drawing his attention back to her face and her wonderful vampish lips "—and the children are all tucked into bed. Quincy's sound asleep, too. Don't you think this is a grand time to dance?"

She waited for his response. It was a long time coming. He was trapped in the contemplation of her lips.

"I suppose..." he finally said, leaving the sentence adrift among the haunting strains of music.

Belinda took his hand and pulled him into the den. A warmth spread through him, and he reached back and quietly shut the door.

"What is that music you're playing?"

"An old Hank Williams tune, 'Your Cheatin' Heart.' It was the first CD I ever owned, and I was always a fool about it. Couldn't bear to leave it behind, so when I left Augusta, I tucked it into my suitcase."

He had a sudden vision of Belinda walking sideways under the weight of her possessions. He wondered if she'd put in her grocery-store china with the blue chickens around the border.

"Hmm," he murmured. Whether he was agreeing with her decision to bring her music to Tupelo or just making a noise to let her know he was listening, he didn't know. He glanced down at their entwined hands. Holding her hand felt good and right somehow, so he held on.

"Do you dance?" she asked.

"Not much."

"That's what I figured. Shoot, I'll bet you haven't danced in a month of Sundays."

"Something like that."

They had been moving slowly toward the center of the room as they talked. Her chiffon skirts whispered against his trousers and her fragrance drifted around him.

"You wait right here," she said. "Now don't you move."

He wouldn't have moved if an elephant suddenly charged into the room.

Belinda started the record again, and Hank Williams' sad song of lost love filled the room. Belinda came toward him, singing along. She had a sweet clear voice that set his skin a-tingle.

She drifted into his arms and it seemed only natural to hold her there. He didn't know who made the first move, but suddenly they were dancing, hips pressed close, hands tightly clasped. It seemed he had never danced before and, at the same time, that he had _always_ danced. Belinda was tall and willowy, and she moved in his arms with more grace than any woman he'd ever known. His own movements were surprisingly sure, as if the memories of dance had been buried deep inside and had sprung to life in that moment of music and roses.

He felt something soft against his cheek and, looking down, saw that it was her hair. Belinda had laid her head on his shoulder, and her silky hair caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes to the lovely sensations that rippled along his skin.

"You dance a lot better than Charlie Crocket," she said.

"I'm glad." He tightened his hold, wanting to be close enough so their heartbeats blended.

"Better even than Matt Hankins."

"Who's Matt Hankins?"

"Just somebody who drifted out of my life the same way he drifted in. Men seem to come and go in my life with the regularity of tides."

Reeve was jealous of them all—Matt Hankins and Charlie Crocket and every other man who had ever drifted close enough to be a part of Belinda's life. The force of his feeling startled him, and he was suddenly very conscious of the way he was holding Belinda.

He eased his hold and she tipped her face up and smiled at him.

"I'm harmless, Reeve."

Her quick assessment of his motives startled him. "Perhaps I'm not."

"Oh."

Gazing down at her, he lost track of the music. His steps slowed, then stopped altogether.

The music wound to a close, and still they stood in the center of the room, holding each other, locked together by passion that was as sudden as it was unexpected.

He moved away from her, toward the sofa, his heart beating as if he had just escaped a band of cutthroats. Belinda stood silently in the center of the room, beautiful and lovely to look at.

There was an unconscious elegance about her that struck Reeve as both natural and surprisingly strange. How could a woman of her background project such a stately well-bred image? What would she be like if she were groomed and tutored and polished? It boggled the mind.

"Do you like ballet?" he asked suddenly.

She smiled, then came toward him, her skirts whispering softly. "Well, I've never seen the real stuff, up on a big stage and all that, but I've seen some on the TV."

With an ease born of self-confidence, Belinda sat on the sofa beside him, spreading her skirts carefully, then taking time to bend down and smooth her hose. Not many women wore them nowadays, especially women as young as she. Somehow, he found that fashion statement very endearing.

"Did you like the ballet, Belinda?"

"I thought all that jumping around was right graceful, and the women's costumes were just peachy, but I did think the men ought to wear a different kind of pants. I mean, just look what all they were showing."

"Indeed." Reeve smoothed his hand over his chin to keep from chuckling. Belinda's point of view never failed to delight him.

"What would you think about going with me to the ballet Saturday night?"

"Why...I would think that was just about the grandest thing I've done since I came to Tupelo."

She leaned down to give her legs another smoothing. Reeve's gaze followed her hands. A muscle worked in his jaw, and sweat beaded his upper lip. Someday he might have to tell her what her unconscious gesture did to him. On the other hand, he didn't really want her to stop.

Belinda finished arranging herself and smiled at Reeve. "Now that I'm drawing such a fancy salary, I might start going to all sorts of highbrow stuff like the ballet. I've always thought I'd like it better than mud wrestling, anyhow."

"Mud wrestling?"

"Charlie Crocket used to be right fond of the Saturday night mud wrestling. Of course, I always did like to be in a crowd that's having fun, but seeing folks grabbing at each other all covered in mud didn't have much appeal to me."

"I think you'll find the ballet much more to your liking."

The scent of roses drifted Reeve's way again, and he fought the urge to slide his arm along the back of the sofa and rest it lightly on Belinda's shoulders. It was time for him to go. After all, he had made a small start on his project, and the things he wished to accomplish couldn't be done in a single evening. The education and sophistication of Belinda Diamond would take a long time.

Reeve smiled. He couldn't remember when he had been as excited over a project. Belinda had great potential, and when he finished with her, she'd be the envy of every woman in Tupelo—and the target of every man. That last thought shook him a little. Not for any personal reasons, he assured himself. Not at all. His reasons for remaking Belinda Diamond were strictly business. She was the best nanny he had ever hired, and with a little polish, she would be perfect. And if his finished product attracted the attention of men, he'd just have to protect her. It was that simple.

He was enormously pleased with himself, so pleased that he reached over and lightly squeezed her hand.

"Will you please excuse me, Belinda?" He wanted to get started right away lining up the necessary people for his project.

"Certainly."

He stood up. "Thank you for the dance."

"Next time we'll do the jitterbug. It's one of the best dances ever invented."

"Indeed." He was spellbound for a moment, lost in thoughts of doing the jitterbug with Belinda. Then he said good-night and strode from the den, trying all the while to stay in his dual role of employer and tutor.

In the doorway, he stopped and glanced back at Belinda. She lifted her hand and flickered her fingers at him.

"Toodle-oo," she said.

Reeve left the den whistling. He guessed an employer might whistle on occasion. What was the harm?

Belinda sat on the sofa, humming, watching him go. Boy, had he surprised her. That man was some dancer. Why, she had felt like she was floating, the way he had held her in his arms and guided her around the room—just floating off on a fine big old cloud.

"Hmm..." She hugged herself and closed her eyes. "My, my," she murmured, remembering how his eyes had gotten all bright and hot-looking when they had stopped in the middle of the dance and stood gazing at each other. And just to think he had invited her to the ballet.

She imagined herself walking into the auditorium, holding his arm like a queen. Why, she'd bet every woman in town would envy her. Never in all her life had a man like Reeve Lawrence drifted her way.

She leaned her head back on the sofa and imagined holding hands with him there—and even kissing him good-night. Her dream was so real she could almost feel his lips on hers.

"Hmm," she said again, then suddenly sat up, eyes wide. "Now wait here just a minute, Belinda Stubaker. This is the best job you've ever had. Don't you dare go messing it up with silly notions of falling in love with the boss."

She got up and hurried across the room to put on some more music. Music was just what she needed to set herself straight on the present situation.

Another sad country song began, and Belinda slowly started to sway. She had done well this evening, getting Reeve to loosen up a little and dance. But that was all she planned to do—loosen him up a little and teach him how to enjoy life. Shoot, she wasn't about to overstep her bounds and find another man drifting out of her life. She was ready for a little permanence.

"I surely do love this grand house," she whispered as she twirled to the music of Waylon Jennings.

o0o

Reeve had never intended to go shopping for a dress, but that was exactly what he found himself doing the day after he invited Belinda to the ballet. He had been walking down Main Street after lunch, enjoying the sunshine and taking a rare leisurely stroll before going back to his office at Lawrence Enterprises, when he had spotted the perfect dress for Belinda. He went inside the store.

Maureen, who remembered him from the days Sunny had been alive, hurried to meet him. "Can I help you, Mr. Lawrence?"

"Yes. I'd like to see the dress in the window, Maureen. Do you have it in size..." Reeve had no idea what size Belinda wore. Sunny had been a perfect size six, and while Belinda was just as slim, she was also taller.

Maureen was quick to see his dilemma. "Perhaps if you will describe the lady in question, I can help you with the size."

"She's tall. At least five nine, perhaps five ten. And very slender, almost as slim as Sunny."

"I see." There was no disapproval in Maureen's tone, only a polite interest and perhaps a mild curiosity. "This dress is fitted. Is she full figured?"

"No, I wouldn't say so."

Reeve was surprised at how easy it was to shop for Belinda. He had no haunting visions of Sunny, no feelings of guilt. He didn't even suffer the dull aching sense of loss that had been a part of his life for the past two years. Instead, he felt a sense of peace as pleasant memories of times spent in this store with Sunny played through his mind. He felt almost as if he was finally bidding goodbye to Sunny, allowing her to move on to a different realm. Not that he had stopped loving her. He would never stop loving her. But now, he could let her go.

The changes had taken place so gradually he hadn't even noticed them. Time had healed his wounds. Time and perhaps a woman named Belinda Diamond.

He felt curiously buoyant, as if he might take wing and fly out of the store.

Maureen got the dress for him, assuring him that the lady could return it if it didn't fit.

"Do you want it gift wrapped?"

He hadn't planned to, but gift wrapping suddenly seemed like a wonderful idea. Belinda was the kind of woman who would love a surprise that came in a fancy package.

"Yes, please. And, Maureen, use the fanciest paper you have and tie it with the biggest bow."

Maureen quirked one eyebrow upward, perhaps remembering that Sunny had been discreet and understated in all things—including gift-wrapped packages.

"Certainly, Mr. Lawrence."

o0o

Reeve considered leaving the package on Belinda's bed and letting her find it on her own. Then he thought about presenting it to her at the dinner table in the presence of his children. For a while he was taken with the idea of having it delivered to the house by a messenger boy. "Package for Miss Belinda Diamond," the delivery boy would say. How Belinda would love that!

In the end, though, he decided to be selfish and present the gift to her in a private ceremony.

That evening, he sat quietly through dinner, watching and marveling at the rapport between Belinda and the children.

"Can we show Daddy our secret now?" Betsy said in a loud whisper as she leaned toward Belinda.

"After dinner," Belinda told her. Her glance slid toward Reeve. He smiled. His life had taken on an order and a routine that was exceedingly pleasing to him.

"And what is this big secret, sweetheart?" he asked his daughter.

"If she tells, it won't be a secret," Mark chimed in.

"Can we skip dessert, Daddy?" Betsy bounced up and down in her chair, clapping her hands. "Can we?"

"If this big secret is waiting until after dinner, I suggest we adjourn to the den. We can have dessert later."

Betsy and Mark jumped out of their chairs and scampered out of the room, laughing and chattering. "We'll meet you in the den, Daddy," Mark called over his shoulder.

"Shall we?" Reeve offered his arm to Belinda—a habit he had developed in the past few days—and escorted her to the den. She glided along beside him, tall and lovely, like a long-stemmed summer flower. He had a vision of her in her new dress. It seemed that tonight was a night for surprises.

Reeve took his customary chair in the den, and Belinda sat on the sofa and spread her skirts. He watched her, waiting for another ritual—the smoothing of her stockings. Her hair swung forward in a bright fan of gold as she leaned down and ran her hands down her legs. This time her stockings had tiny sequined diamond shapes.

A satisfied sigh escaped Reeve's lips. It was funny how these small nightly rituals soothed him. Even more mystifying was the way he looked forward to finding out what sort of decorations would adorn Belinda's stockings. Sometimes, late in the afternoons, he found himself gazing out the window of his office, wondering whether she would have hearts or diamonds or bows marching in a glittering row down her slim legs.

Thank God nobody around here could read minds. He leaned back in his chair, content.

Betsy and Mark bounded into the room, trailed by Quincy.

"Lord have mercy, Mr. Reeve," she said, puffing as she lumbered toward her chair. "The children are enough to wear Belinda to a frazzle. But she's always just as lively as if she'd come up from eight hours' sleep on a feather comforter." She fanned herself with her apron. "I never saw a woman take to a job the way she has." She smiled over at Belinda.

Reeve laughed. "Didn't I tell you, Quincy? Belinda's job is permanent."

"Nothin' has ever been permanent with you before. Specially where the children's concerned. I just thought I'd get my two cents' worth in. That's all."

"Point taken, Quincy." He hugged Betsy close as she sidled up to him. "Now, sweetheart, what's this big surprise you and Mark have been keeping for Daddy?"

"This." Betsy pulled a willow whistle from behind her back.

Mark came forward with his whistle. "And guess what? Belinda helped us make them!"

Reeve inspected the whistle. It was a small willow flute, ingeniously made.

"You keep surprising me, Belinda. You're a woman of many talents."

"Shoot. It's just a little old whistle. Daddy taught us how to make them down in Georgia. See, we didn't have money to spend on fancy toys and stuff, so we had to make do with what we had. Anyhow, that's not important. The important thing is I always remembered my daddy showing me how to make that whistle and the good times we had picking out tunes. I just think it's good to really be a part of children's lives."

She paused, her cheeks flushed, then turned to Betsy and Mark. "Are you ready for the show, children?"

Betsy and Mark stood side by side in front of Reeve's chair, their faces important-looking, and lifted their flutes to their lips. At first he couldn't tell that the sounds they were making were music; but gradually he began to distinguish the tune. They were playing a shaky but enthusiastic rendition of "Yankee Doodle."

As he listened to the music, a part of his mind was occupied with the things Belinda had said. She was a very wise woman. And he had set himself up as her teacher. The wonderful irony was that it appeared _he_ was the one learning most of the lessons.

He was both amused and proud. With raw material like that, there was no telling what he could accomplish.

The children finished their song; then everybody had dessert. When it was time for the children's baths and bed, they kissed him goodnight, then Belinda took their hands and excused herself.

She was halfway across the room before Reeve spoke. "Belinda." She paused, glancing over her shoulder. "I'd like to see you after you've tucked the children in."

"In your office?"

"No. Here."

"Certainly." She nodded and left the room, the children in tow.

After they had gone, closing the door behind them, Quincy settled back into her chair and gave Reeve a sassy grin.

"What was that for, Quincy?"

"You like her, don't you?"

"She's the best nanny I've ever had."

"I'm not talkin' about nannies. I'm talkin' personal."

"Sometimes you talk too much, Quincy."

"I'm seein' developments, and I'm likin' what I see."

"If you're putting two and two together and getting _family_ , you can get that thought out of your mind."

"I'm not sayin' what I'm puttin' together." Quincy grinned.

"Good." Reeve gave his faithful old housekeeper what he considered his best I'm-the-boss look. Because she was not the least bit impressed, he added, "My relationship with Belinda Diamond is strictly business—and that's all it's ever going to be. I don't intend to lose a good nanny."

"No, indeedy." Chuckling, Quincy rose laboriously from her chair. "I'm goin' to bed." She lumbered across the room, then turned for one last comment. "Sure does get lonesome, just one in a bed."

Reeve declined to comment. He knew Quincy would have the last word, anyway.

He sat in his chair for a moment after Quincy had gone, smiling to himself. His gift was tucked in the entertainment center, out of sight. He glanced around the den and suddenly decided, _Why not?_

He put a good blues CD on the stereo, took out a bottle of wine and turned the lights down low. Then he sat down in his chair to wait for Belinda Diamond.

# Chapter Six

After the children were settled into their beds, Belinda made her way back down the vast hallway toward the den where Reeve waited. What in the world did he want to see her about? Had she done something wrong?

No use expecting the worst, she told herself. Then she lifted her chin and tried to think positively. Maybe he wanted another dance lesson.

She eased open the den door, expecting to see the lights blazing just the way she'd left them. Instead, she had to stand in the doorway and adjust her eyes to the gloom.

"Reeve?"

"Over here."

He was still in the chair where she had left him, but he had been a busy man since she'd been gone. Soft blues music filled the room, and in the semidarkness she spotted two crystal wine goblets on the coffee table, catching the lamplight.

"Well, I'll be..." she said as she walked into the room.

"Please close the door behind you."

She eased the door shut, then she stood uncertainly.

Reeve stood up, tall and handsome and formal. "Won't you please sit down, Belinda?"

She wasn't about to be intimidated by circumstances. If there was one thing she'd learned from the friends she'd made at Camp Piomingo so many years ago it was _stand your ground._ Walking so her skirts would swish, she made her way to the sofa.

"Don't mind if I do." Once she was seated, she leaned back, kicked off one shoe and tucked her leg under her. "My, my. How good it is to relax after a long hot summer day."

Reeve chuckled as he sat back down. She guessed that was a good sign. It did seem to her that he laughed more than he used to. She liked to think it was her influence. Maybe it was time for that jitterbug lesson she'd promised him. And after that, she thought she'd start planning family picnics. Of course, she wasn't really a part of the family, but as the nanny, she would certainly go along. And she could pretend.

She'd done a lot of pretending lately. Just the night before she had pretended Betsy and Mark were actually her children and that she would be in a front-row seat when they graduated from high school. Shoot, she could picture herself sitting in the front pew of the church when Betsy got married, wearing a nice crepe-de-chine dress with just a touch of sparkle on the shoulder. She did love fancy clothes. She gave a long contented sigh.

"Happy?" Reeve's voice startled her. He had been quiet so long she had almost forgotten he was there.

"Yes." She started to add she was happier than a pig in the sunshine, but she had noticed that Reeve didn't talk like that. She guessed if she lived around him long enough she might get to talking classy like him. Heck, if she'd got to spend more time with the Dixie Virgins through the years, she'd be talking as educated as Janet, who was studying to be a pediatrician.

"I'm glad." He didn't say anything else, but kept watching her like she was some sort of prize at the county fair, and he was figuring out whether she was worth trying to win.

She didn't mind. In fact, she sort of liked having his eyes on her. It made her feel soft and liquid and kind of hummy inside, like she might break out in song in a minute or two.

"You've done an excellent job with the children."

"Thank you."

His eyes settled on her once more, and she let out a big sigh. "I have always believed in rewarding excellence," he said after a moment.

"That's not necessary. My salary is more than generous."

"Indulge me." Smiling, he rose from his chair. The lamplight slanted across his cheekbones, softening his whole face. Belinda wanted to leave her comfortable place at the sofa and run her hands down the sides of his face.

His back was turned to her as he fiddled about the entertainment center. It was a lovely back, proud and straight with a broad set of shoulders that made her glad he belonged to her. Of course, he didn't really _belong_ to her, but he _was_ her boss and she reckoned that gave her some privileges.

When he turned around he was holding the prettiest box Belinda had ever seen. "Oh," she sighed. It was a large box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a sparkly pink bow. The bow glittered so much in the lamplight that she figured it must be sprinkled with stardust.

Reeve slowly walked toward her, holding the box out in front of him. "For you," he said, setting the box on the coffee table.

"For me?"

She didn't dare touch it yet, for she couldn't believe that such a beautiful thing was hers just because she'd been in the household for a while. It didn't make sense to her. Nobody had ever given her such a gift.

"This is my way of saying thank you for a job well done."

She reached for the box, then ran her hands over the ribbon.

"It's so pretty I hate to unwrap it."

"I'm glad you like the wrapping." He chuckled. "But I also want to know if you like what's inside the box."

Belinda carefully removed the bow and set it aside. Then she undid the paper with equal care, folding it neatly and putting it beside the bow. She thought she'd save the wrapping forever, preserve it in a spot of honor next to her Hank Williams CD.

When she saw the dress, she tried to contain her disappointment. It didn't look like much in the box, plain as could be, though it was a good color—black. Belinda had always been partial to black. She held it up and tried to sound excited.

"My, my. How elegant."

She figured Reeve was fooled, for he beamed at her as if he had invented Christmas. "Simplicity is always elegant. Why don't you try it on?"

She nodded and left the room, carrying the dress, the box and all the wrappings. Of the three, she valued the wrappings most. When she reached her bedroom she spent considerable time trying to figure out how the dress went. It was slashed in unexpected places, and she made two or three false starts in trying to get into it.

Finally she figured it out. It came off one shoulder in the front, and most of the back was cut away. The fitted skirt buttoned straight down the back side of her left hip. First she looked down at herself, then she twirled in front of the mirror.

"Oh my!" For all its plainness, the dress was grand. It made her look like one of those TV heroines who walk down the staircase with everybody looking. Her pantyhose with the rhinestones set it off perfectly, even if she did say so herself.

For a minute she thought it needed a necklace and two or three bangle bracelets and maybe her big rhinestone earrings; then she changed her mind. She walked to the dresser and took out a box she always carried with her. Inside was a pair of pearl-and-rhinestone earrings that had belonged to her grandmother. She had never worn them, for they had always seemed wrong with all her outfits; but with this dress, they looked just right.

She gave one last glance in the mirror before she left the room. She would say one thing for that Reeve Lawrence—he certainly did know how to dress a woman.

Reeve stood up when she walked into the room. An entrance like Belinda Diamond's demanded standing. She was sensational. Her creamy skin glowed against the simple black silk, and the pearl earrings she was wearing added just the right touch of elegance. Even the rhinestone-studded stockings seemed right.

"Well?" she said, twirling slowly.

"I'm speechless."

"Good. I never did like a talkety man."

Belinda paraded up and down the room as if she were a model on a runway, turning this way and that, giving him a view of herself from all angles. And every angle he saw was delicious.

He poured himself a fortifying drink of wine. When she glided his way, he offered her a glass.

"Won't you join me?"

"Well..." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Since this is a celebration, I guess one little glass won't hurt."

She took the glass bravely and began to sip. Reeve watched in fascination as her face flushed and she sank languidly onto the couch. As the blues music drifted around them, the one shoulder on her silk dress slid downward. She hiccuped softly.

"My goodness." She giggled. "I feel all swimmy-headed."

"Perhaps you shouldn't finish that wine." He reached for the glass.

"Nonsense. I always start what I finish." She took a big gulp, and her strap slid inexorably farther.

Reeve cursed himself for being a fool. She had told him the effect wine had on her. Why had he offered her a glass? Indeed, why had he set the room up like a seduction trap, then waited inside like some love-starved teenager for his first victim?

"Hell." He sat on the sofa beside her and leaned over to pull her dress back onto her shoulder.

She leaned close to his face. "Hello, there. Fancy meeting you here." She hiccuped once more, then gulped down the rest of her wine.

Her lips were so close, so temptingly close. With one finger he reached out and traced their bow-shaped lines. They were still damp from the wine. He knew exactly how they would taste. His finger played over her lips once more. She closed her eyes and made a little humming sound.

What had he done? He jerked his hand away and began to straighten her dress. His fingers encountered her naked shoulders and he was lost once more. He couldn't seem to move. Ever so slowly, his thumbs caressed her silky skin.

"Hmm," she murmured. "Tha'snish."

She was drunk. On one glass of wine. He held her by the shoulders and gazed down into her face. Belinda Diamond was at his mercy. He could kiss her. He could pull her onto his lap and run his hands down the length of her slim legs, tracing the same path he's seen her trace so often. He could bury his face in her hair and feel its silky strands caress his cheek.

He was sorely tempted. He battled temptation for several minutes. A muscle ticked in his tight jaw as he carefully rearranged her dress and propped her on the sofa.

"Wait here, Belinda," he said, although the instructions were totally unnecessary. In her condition she couldn't have moved if she had wanted to. Apparently she was extraordinarily sensitive to wine, perhaps even allergic. All the way to the kitchen he berated himself. What had he been thinking of, setting out a glass of wine for her?

As he prepared a cup of strong coffee, he decided that the remaking of Belinda Diamond was going to be somewhat dangerous. She was warmhearted and sweet and sexy, and he was, after all, a man—one who had been without a woman for a long time. He'd have to learn to keep the proper distance. Surely he could exercise that much control over himself.

When he returned to the den, he propped Belinda into the crook of his arm and held the coffee cup to her lips.

"Sip, Belinda... That's right...."

She made a face. "It's bitter."

"I know, sweetheart. That's how it has to be."

Neither of them noticed the endearment. He was too preoccupied and she was too tipsy.

He held her while she finished the coffee. Then he smoothed back her hair. "Can you walk, Belinda?"

She smiled at him, then reached up and patted his face. "You're a nice man.''

"Upsy-daisy." He got her to her feet. She swayed toward him and he braced her with a firm arm around her waist. "Hold on. Let's see what those legs can do."

She was rubbery-legged all the way across the den and back.

"Whoops," she said, giggling, as she fell into him.

"This doesn't seem to be working." He untangled her and tried one more circuit of the room. She spent most of the time lurching into him, hanging on and giggling.

"Are we going to dance like this all night?" she asked.

"Absolutely not."

Reeve got her into his arms and strode from the den. He had gotten her into this condition and now he was going to take care of her. There was no need to torture her the rest of the evening with strong coffee and forced marching.

Belinda wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck as he ascended the stairs. He tightened his jaw and kept his inexorable march toward her bedroom.

She had left a lamp glowing beside the bed. He stepped through the doorway and kicked the door shut behind him, just in case. He never knew when Quincy would decide to roam the halls, checking on things, and he certainly didn't want her to see what was going on. She would take great delight in misinterpreting the entire scene.

He lowered Belinda to the bed, and she lay on the silk coverlet like a fallen flower. With the lamplight gilding her hair and her skin, she was exquisite.

Reeve yielded to temptation long enough to lean down and caress her cheek.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

"Hmm." She settled into a comfortable position and her eyes slowly drifted shut.

Reeve briefly considered removing her dress so she would be more comfortable, then tucking her under the covers, but that was too much temptation for any man. He contented himself with sitting at her bedside a while, watching to be sure she was all right.

She sighed and stirred in her sleep, and the smell of roses drifted around him. Once more he leaned down to caress her face.

"Do you have any idea how desirable you are, Belinda Diamond?" he whispered. _Probably not._ Once more he was overcome with the temptation to remove her dress, but this time he wasn't thinking of her comfort.

He stood up to leave. The fates would just have to take care of Belinda, for he was in no condition. Belinda's discomfort and a hopelessly wrinkled dress were small prices to pay for his sanity.

Tomorrow he'd send the dress to the cleaners. And tomorrow he'd feel more like himself, more in charge. He had to, otherwise this strange metamorphosis might become permanent.

o0o

Belinda woke with such a horrible headache she could barely read the note she found on her bedside table.

"I've arranged to send your dress out to be cleaned and pressed. Please be ready for the ballet at seven-thirty." The note wasn't even signed.

Reeve's note crackled with cold authority. Oh, Lordy, and here she was lying on her bed still dressed in her new silk outfit. No telling what she had done after drinking the wine. The last thing she remembered was how much she wanted to crawl all over Reeve and nibble his neck.

The note was plain enough. He was going to act like nothing had happened. Maybe it hadn't. She didn't know. Anyhow, two could play the same game. Tonight when she sashayed down the stairs in her fancy new dress, as elegant as Audrey Hepburn in _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ , she'd act as cool as you please.

She eased out of bed, hanging onto her pounding head, then slid out of her dress and into the tub. When she had finished, she wrapped a fluffy towel around herself and sank into the middle of the bed with her laptop.

From: Belinda

To: Janet, Catherine, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie, Bea

Re: Nothing is simple

I thought being a nanny would be simple. But now Reeve has invited me to the ballet tonight, and I don't know whether it's a date or just his way of saying _thank you_ _for taking good care of my kids._

Belinda

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Catherine, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie, Bea

Re: Tonight

It is _not_ a date! He's your boss and you're too young for him.

Janet

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Joanna, Clemmie, Bea

Re: Age

Age has nothing to do with it, Janet. Daddy's signed himself up for Match.com! And he's 50!!!!

Molly

From: Joanna

To: Molly, Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie, Bea

Re: Yay!

LOL! I think that's so _cute_ about Mr. Rakestraw, Molly!

And Janet, NOT A DATE!!!! Are you kidding me! Of COURSE it is!!! Belinda, find out if he French kisses!!!!

Joanna

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: Mr. Rakestraw

Cute my butt! You can meet criminals on Match.Com. I've heard of it. Thank God, Mother hasn't signed up.

Belinda, listen to Janet. This is _not a date!!!_

Bea

From: Clemmie

To: Molly, Belinda, Joanna, Janet, Catherine, Bea

Re: French kisses

Listen, Belinda, if he wants to make out, go for it, just don't go all the way! I'm not likely to get kissed French or any other way stuck over here at the backside of nowhere.

Clemmie

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie, Bea

Re: BIG test

OMG, Belinda! Don't do you dare let him get in your Virginia! Got a big test. Gotta run.

Catherine

Belinda was still giggling when she shut off her email. Then she shut off her computer, got dressed and went downstairs for another wonderful day with the children.

o0o

That evening, promptly at seven-thirty, Belinda descended the staircase. Reeve was standing at the bottom, as stiff as a stuffed turkey, but she wasn't going to let his attitude bother her. This was her first real ballet, and she was going to have a ball, whether it was a date or not.

"Ta-da!" When she reached the bottom she twirled around for him. "I'm all pressed and polished and ready to go. How do you like me?"

"You are lovely," he said, without a smile. He held his arm out as formally as if he were a doorman or something. Belinda wanted to bash him over the head with one of her high-heeled shoes. She wanted to rumple his hair and leave a lipstick mark on his cheek and say, "Hey, let's have some fun!"

Of course she did none of those things. Instead she took his arm and inclined her head toward him as if she'd been born acting high-and-mighty.

"I'm ready when you are, master."

That brought a small smile to his face. It even put a twinkle in his eye. Good. Maybe there was hope for the evening, after all.

Once they got into the Corvette, Belinda did most of the talking. He had opened up some by the time they got to the ballet, but he said nothing personal. As they took their seats, he started explaining the ballet to her, telling her about the music and the composer, and the various places this particular company had performed.

Belinda listened with half an ear, all the while studying Reeve. He looked like a prince right out of a fairy tale. She smiled, remembering the way he had held her when they danced, recalling the way the expression in his eyes sometimes got hot when the two of them were alone together.

"You seem to be enjoying this rather boring lecture of mine."

"I am. Tell me more, please." She wasn't telling a lie exactly. What she was enjoying was the sound of his voice and the feeling of sitting beside him all dressed up, just like a real date. He leaned closer, making a point about Tchaikovsky's _Sleeping Beauty_ ballet, and his arm brushed against hers. She felt as if the night sky had opened up and all the stars had lined up to blink a message, especially for her: _Belinda Stubaker loves Reeve Lawrence._

"Oh, no," she whispered.

"You disagree with me about Tchaikovsky's music?" He smiled. "I'm glad. Nothing is more boring than a 'yes' person."

_If he only knew,_ she thought. She didn't disagree with him about anything. In fact, if he had said the sun was black, she'd have looked for dark streaks in it. She was that much in love.

The very thought of loving her boss horrified her. Not only was she as different from Reeve Lawrence as it was possible for a woman to be, but she was putting everything she had hoped for in jeopardy—her job, her security, her future. It just couldn't be possible, she thought in panic. When had it happened? It had sneaked up on her when she wasn't looking, that was what.

The sound of his rich voice rumbled on, and she pretended to be paying attention. She was relieved when the lights finally dimmed and the ballet started. Now she could think in the dark without having to pretend.

She stared straight ahead at the stage, afraid her face would give her away. The costumes were beautiful, the music grand, and the dancers graceful. She should be in heaven. Her very first ballet, and here she was locked up in her own mind with her tortured love.

Maybe it wasn't so. Maybe living a fairy-tale life in that fairy-tale house had warped her thinking. Perhaps she just _thought_ she was in love.

She sneaked a peek at Reeve. _No._ He was real and her love was real. She could tell. She guessed that's why things had never worked out between her and Charlie Crocket—or Matt Hankins. She hadn't really loved either of them. They had drifted into her life and selected her, and she had gone along for the ride.

A kind fate had rescued her from Charlie and Matt. Who was going to rescue her now?

The lights came up and Reeve took her arm. "Shall we go downstairs?"

"Is it over?"

"Over? No. This is intermission."

They walked downstairs, and she was saved having to talk to Reeve by the crush of people who approached him. Apparently half of Tupelo knew him. If he thought her silence was strange, he didn't have a chance to comment. She stood at his side and let her mind drift. Lordy, she was in a fine mess. How was she ever going to keep her feelings secret? And keep them secret she must. There was not a snowball's chance in the Bad Place that Reeve would ever fall in love again, especially with somebody who was not in his social circle. Besides all that, she had her job to think about.

"Miss Diamond? _Miss Diamond."_

The insistent female voice shook Belinda out of her study. "Yes," she said, trying to look pert and prepared, though she didn't have any idea who the woman was or what she was talking about.

"I asked where you went to school," the woman said.

"Just about everywhere," Belinda told her, wondering why in the world it mattered.

"I mean, what _specific_ school, Miss Diamond? I can't seem to place your accent. And that fashion statement..." She stared pointedly at Belinda's rhinestone-studded pantyhose, though how she could see through her weighted-down eyelashes was a mystery to Belinda. Then the woman gave a false laugh. "I'm a W girl, myself."

"Lois, will you please excuse us?" Reeve took Belinda's elbow with the intention of rescuing her, she guessed. Well, she was in no mood to be rescued.

"Why, Lois," Belinda said in her best drawl. "Didn't old Reevey-boy tell you? I went to the school of hard knocks."

Lois's mouth dropped open, and as far as Belinda could tell it was still hanging open when Reeve drew her back through the crowd.

"Are you mad at me?" she said.

"No."

"Then why are you scowling?"

"I'm not scowling."

"Your face would frighten old ladies into heart attacks."

"So would that fake accent you used with Lois."

"She asked for it."

_"Reevey-boy?"_

Belinda's face flushed hot, but she wasn't about to back down—boss or no boss. "I do not intend to apologize," she said softly. "You can fire me."

"Fire you?" He stopped dead in his tracks and grasped her shoulders, oblivious to the crowd swirling around them. _"Fire_ you?"

Her chin came up proudly. "That's what I said." She was shaking so hard inside she thought she might break into a hundred pieces in the middle of the concert hall. Sometimes life simply wasn't fair. All she had ever wanted was little house to call her own, and what did she end up with? Loving the wrong man and losing her job by insulting his friends.

"Do you think so little of me that you believe I'd fire you because of Lois Mease?" A muscle jumped in the side of his tight jaw.

Hope sprang to life in Belinda. "No, I think you are..." She paused, thinking of all the things he was—wonderful, magnificent, handsome, generous, sexy. Of course, she couldn't say those things to him. Not now. Probably not ever. She looked him straight in the eye. "You are a very fine man."

"Good. I think you are a very fine woman, and I have no intention of firing you." He released her shoulders, tucked her hand into his arm, and escorted her back to their seats. "Let's enjoy the ballet and forget about Lois."

"She's a hard woman to forget with all that funny-looking streaked-up hair cut like a man's and all that rouge that looked like it had been put on with a hoe. I could have said a thing or two about her fashion statement, but I didn't."

Reeve chuckled. "I think you gave her what she deserved with one succinct statement, Belinda. Though I'm not fond of being called Reevey."

"I thought it was cute. Makes you sound like some kind of machine used to trim the grass."

The lights dimmed and the curtain rose. Belinda and Reeve sat side by side, watching the ballet, thinking their separate thoughts.

After the final curtain call, they made their way back through the crowd, outside and into Reeve's car. Once they were inside the rich cocoon of leather and darkness, cruising down the street in silence, Reeve launched into the subject that had been very much on his mind. In his characteristic manner, he got right to the heart of the matter.

"Belinda, for the past two days I've been planning a project that is very exciting to me."

"Good. Tell me about it." She was feeling expansive now that she had survived the threat to her job. In her present mood, she also believed she could handle her ill-fated love.

"I have already lined up all the people necessary to do the job—tutors, an elocution coach, a finishing-school expert."

"Well, that sounds ambitious... all those people." She shifted in her seat so she could see his face better in the dim light. "Now, if you'll just tell me what this project is, maybe I can offer an opinion. I have one on just about everything."

Reeve laughed. "That's the reason I decided on this project, Belinda. You are such a remarkable woman—and you have so much potential."

Belinda went very still. _She had so much potential._ Her heart hammered in her chest so hard she thought she wouldn't be able to get her breath.

"I'm the project?" she whispered.

Reeve was so caught up in his plans he didn't notice her turmoil.

"Just think, Belinda. With the right tutoring you can be one of the most outstanding women in the city, even in the state."

"The ballet tonight—that was all part of the project?" Her visions of romance vanished like wisps of smoke in a strong wind.

Something in her voice made Reeve glance her way. Her face was white and stricken, as if a light had been snuffed out somewhere inside her. His hands tightened on the wheel and he silently cursed himself. In his usual bulldog method, he had plowed ahead with his project, never stopping to think how Belinda might view it.

"Of course the ballet was not a part of the project." That was a half-truth, but maybe it would help rectify his terrible mistake. "I wanted you to see the ballet, and I needed a companion."

"Why didn't you take Quincy? I'll bet she'd love it. She might even have more _potential_ than I do."

She shifted as far from him as possible, hugging the door as if she were trying to disappear into the leather.

"I'm sorry. I've handled this badly."

"You don't have to apologize. You think I have potential, and I guess I ought to be flattered. Some of my bosses have thought I was too independent and sassy to have potential."

"This is not about my being the boss and you being the employee." He stared straight ahead, trying to keep the anger out of his voice and failing miserably.

"Then maybe you'll tell me what it is about. See, since I need a tutor and an elocution coach and a finishing-school expert, I'm having a hard time figuring this thing out. Maybe I need a brain transplant, too. Do you know any good surgeons?"

Belinda was past caring about her job. There would always be other jobs. Her pride had been deeply wounded. Every word Reeve said confirmed what she had always known: they were from two different worlds. And it hurt like the devil to think he believed she had to be reshaped before she was even worthy to _work_ in his world, let alone love.

She clenched her hands into fists, fighting to hold back the tears. She wouldn't let him see her cry. Crying should be private, especially since she would be crying over an impossible love.

"Belinda—"

"So fire me."

"If you say that one more time—''

He clamped his jaws together tightly and drove with a single-minded vengeance. Belinda sat on her side of the car in blistering silence.

By the time they reached his neighborhood, Reeve had calmed down enough to be rational.

"Belinda, look. Please forget the whole thing. Forget the project. Forget everything I said. You're an excellent nanny, and I appreciate you just the way you are."

"Thank you." She didn't dare look at him. She didn't want to see a lie on his face. It was better for her if she pretended he was telling the truth. She wanted to salvage some of her pride.

He parked the car and they walked stiffly toward the front door, side by side but not touching. Belinda wondered why she had ever believed they would exchange a good-night kiss. Maybe she needed that tutor, after all. Maybe she needed _six_ tutors.

Inside the door, she turned to face him, her hands folded in front of her, the way a good obedient employee should.

"Thank you for taking me to the ballet, Reeve. Good night."

Reeve thought of a dozen things he should say, but he didn't quite know how to say them. In the end he settled for a simple good-night.

He watched her walk up the staircase. Twice he almost called her back. He had hurt her terribly, wounded her pride, probably shaken her self-esteem. If only he had explained his intent. If only he hadn't called her a project. If only he had _asked_ if she was interested in being made over.

Slowly he followed her up the staircase, far enough behind so she wouldn't notice, thinking all the while that two of the saddest words in the English language were _if only._

# Chapter Seven

Belinda made it to her bedroom before the tears started. She closed the door softly, resisting the urge to slam it. When she was upset, she loved to slam things and throw things. But this wasn't her house; it wasn't her door.

She stalked across the room, tears streaming down her cheeks, and kicked the love seat. That made her toe hurt just enough to give her a reason to cry. She wanted a reason to cry besides the real one. She didn't even want to think about all her real reasons for crying.

She was so upset she didn't even want to email her friends.

She stripped off her clothes and stalked toward the bathroom with Reeve's words echoing in her mind: _You have so much potential._ She clamped her hands over her ears to shut them out, but she still kept hearing them.

"What's the use?" She uncovered her ears and let herself replay their conversation in the car while she drew a tub of water. Of course, she'd had one bath already this evening, but she'd always believed the best therapy in the world was a good hot bath.

When the water was almost up to the rim, she stepped into the tub and sank so low the water lapped her chin. Her hair was getting wet, but she didn't care. What did a wet head matter when the man she loved thought she needed remaking?

She scrubbed hard at her face, removing all trace of tears. She didn't want to cry over Reeve Lawrence. She hadn't cried over Charlie Crocket and she hadn't cried over Matt Hankins. But she hadn't been in love with them, either.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the cold porcelain rim of the tub.

"Be sensible, Belinda," she told herself.

Oh, Lordy, she had been anything except sensible tonight. She had let her feelings take charge of her brain, and then she had let her tongue run wild. That was the thing about her—she'd always had a habit of saying what she thought. She decided it was a good thing she'd spent most of her life moving around the country, for she probably wouldn't have been able to stay put, the way she let her tongue run away with her.

Tomorrow she might as well start looking for another job, no matter what Reeve had said. Working for him after all the things she'd said would be impossible.

She looked around the bathroom and sighed. All this had been hers. And she'd thrown it away in a temper tantrum. Well, not exactly a temper tantrum. But she had been mad.

She closed her eyes, and gradually the hot water worked its magic. She began to see Reeve in a new light. He _was_ a wonderful man, a man who wanted only the best for his family. And tonight, she had been included in his family—sort of—and he had offered her the best.

Love had blinded her. Love and pride as big as Kansas.

"Belinda Stubaker, you've been an idiot."

She rose from the water and toweled herself dry. Then she rummaged in the closet till she found her snazzy pink rayon nightgown, slashed low in the back and front, and her matching pink robe. They still had the tags hanging on them. She had found them at an after-Christmas sale two years ago and had bought them for her trousseau, though at the time she didn't even have a man, let alone an engagement ring. She believed in planning ahead. Now, of course, since she had given up on the idea of marrying—especially since she couldn't have the man she wanted—she thought she might as well put on her trousseau gown and enjoy it. A broken heart is easier to deal with when you look your best.

Belinda sat down in front of the vanity and began to brush her hair. Tomorrow morning she would apologize to Reeve, then she would ask him to drive her to Main Street and let her off.

She ran the brush through her hair, thinking of all the things she would miss: Quincy and the children, this house, this bedroom, but most of all, Reeve.

There was a soft knock at her door. She thought she must be hearing things. Nobody ever came to her bedroom door this time of night. The knock sounded again.

"Belinda?"

_Oh, Lordy._ She laid the brush carefully aside and hurried to the door.

"Reeve?" she asked, her hand on the doorknob.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late. May I come in?"

"Into my bedroom?"

"If you aren't dressed..."

She jerked open the door. "I'm dressed."

His gaze raked over her. "So I see."

If she wasn't mistaken, his eyes lit up with that hot expression he sometimes got when he looked at her. Her legs became buttery, and she hung on to the doorknob, gazing up at him.

"I couldn't let us part with that terrible misunderstanding between us, Belinda," he said as he came into the room.

She closed the door and stood leaning against it. "I know. I feel rotten myself."

Reeve was acutely conscious of being in Belinda's bedroom. He moved as far away from her as possible and stood with his back to the window while she hugged the door. Coming to her bedroom had been a mistake. But he wasn't about to back out now.

"Belinda, the fault was entirely mine."

"Oh, no," she said, still hanging on to the door. Why couldn't she have discovered she loved Reeve two weeks ago? Why did it have to be tonight? If she'd had a little time to live with her love, she might have been able to handle seeing him in her bedroom. As it was, she was about to go all to pieces right in front of his eyes. She could just see herself, Belinda Stubaker, breaking into twenty-two pieces and flying all over the bedroom. She guessed her heart would land at his feet.

They were both silent for a long while, looking at each other, then they spoke at the same time.

"Belinda..."

"Reeve..."

"Ladies first," he said.

"I was mad tonight. I shouldn't have said all those things I did."

"You had a right to be mad."

"You're being too kind."

"You're being too forgiving."

Both of them gave a half smile in the way of people who are feeling a bit relieved. Belinda relinquished her hold on the doorknob, and Reeve left his haven by the window. They moved instinctively toward each other, then Belinda pulled back.

Land, what was she doing, heading Reeve's way in her pink trousseau gown like some floozy? The next thing she'd be telling him was that she loved him!

Half-angry at herself now, she retreated a step back and sat down in front of the vanity, being careful her robe covered Virginia.

"I probably shouldn't have come tonight," he said. "This can wait until tomorrow." He started toward the door.

"No. Wait. I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I didn't want you to think that I was the kind of woman who entertained a man in her bedroom—in addition to being the kind of woman who needs a whole bunch of making over."

She guessed the devil made her add that last part. Reeve's face got tight and a muscle started jumping in the side of his jaw again. Well, what did it matter when you got right down to it? She was leaving anyhow. She figured it would be easier to get over a broken heart if she didn't have to see the man who broke it every day of her life.

"Belinda, I want you to understand my motives and to understand why I took the approach I did."

"All right. I'll listen." She would try to act as graceful as possible under the circumstances, and when he had finished she might as well go ahead and tell him she was leaving. No use putting it off until tomorrow. Tomorrow wouldn't change a thing. She'd still be loving Reeve, and he'd still not be loving her back.

"I'm a businessman and I'm known for making quick decisions, then following through."

She could tell he was more comfortable now that he was discussing business matters, and that made her mad all over again. She was merely a business matter to him. She wadded a piece of her robe in her fist and squeezed it so hard she guessed she was ruining the fabric.

"That's how I approached this situation, Belinda—as a business decision." He carefully avoided calling her a project. "I sincerely thought I was doing the best thing for you, as well as for Mark and Betsy."

She hoped she didn't cry, though it was a real possibility.

"You see," he continued, "if Sunny had lived she would have taught the children about the arts, about music and literature and theater and dance and great paintings. It occurred to me that you would enjoy exposure to the arts, too, and at the same time I would be helping Betsy and Mark."

Belinda thought for a long time before she answered him. What would happen if she stayed? She had said she wanted to be a new woman and had even given herself a new name, but a person was more than a name. Reeve was offering to make her a new woman in ways that other people would notice.

"Does the offer still stand?" she asked quietly.

His smile was beautiful to see. And it broke her heart. Why couldn't he smile like that about _her_ instead of about his _project?_

"Does that mean you've changed your mind?" he asked.

"Yes, I've changed my mind." She stood up so she could be tall and look him in the eye. Her daddy had taught her to look a person straight in the eye when you wanted him to know you meant business.

"Great," he said. "We'll start Monday, if that's all right with you."

"Monday's fine."

"I'll notify all the tutors."

"No."

"No?"

Land, what had she done now? She was arguing with him again, and he was her boss. She reckoned the devil had grabbed hold of her brain, or maybe it was love making her act so foolish. But what did it matter? It was too late to take her words back now. She might as well say what had just popped into her head.

"You're the one who wants me to learn all those artsy things—I guess you'll be the best one to teach me."

"You want _me_ to be your tutor?"

"Why not? You want me to be the pupil."

She figured he'd fire her now. She folded her hands across her stomach, waiting for the ax to fall. The room was so quiet she could hear the minutes marching by.

Suddenly Reeve laughed. Belinda felt as if a big rock had been lifted off her chest.

"Why not?'' he said, as much to himself as to her. "Why not, indeed?"

"Does that mean yes?"

"Yes. Be ready for your first lesson on Monday evening."

"I will."

After he left, she turned around and faced the mirror to see if she looked any different. She didn't; it was the same old Belinda staring back at her. It seemed to her that women who had completely lost their minds ought to show it in some way, develop warts on their nose or pointed eyebrows or something to let the rest of the world know so they could run like rabbits.

She walked toward her bed, got under the covers and sighed. How was she ever going to take lessons from Reeve without showing her love?

She switched off the lamp, then just lay beneath the cool sheets staring at a patch of moonlight on the ceiling. On the other hand, at least she would be able to _see_ him. If she couldn't have him, seeing him would be the next best thing.

o0o

Reeve left Belinda's bedroom, secretly delighted with the turn of events. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of being her tutor in the first place. It was logical. He was here, and he knew exactly what he wanted the finished product to be like. Why trust Belinda to the hands of strangers?

Tomorrow he would outline his plan for her transformation. When he had finished with her, Belinda Diamond would be the toast of Tupelo.

o0o

From: Belinda

To: Janet, Catherine, Bea, Joanna, Molly, Clemmie

Re: Good news, bad news

Everybody has gone to church, so I'm here on this fabulous front porch with my laptop. The bad news is that I've fallen head over heels in love with my boss, who only sees me as a nanny. The good news is that he also sees I have a brain, and he's going to be my teacher. It will be a sort of private finishing school. I'm excited to get the opportunity to better myself. Still, my heart is breaking, and I don't know what to do about that.

XO

Belinda

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Bea, Joanna, Clemmie

Re: A Bright Idea

If this man thinks he can break your heart and get by with it, he's in for a big surprise! From what daddy said, Reeve Lawrence is used to getting everything he wants. What he needs is to think he can't have you, Belinda! Go out with other men! I know a ton in Tupelo. All I have to do is snap my fingers, and you'll have so many cute guys taking you out, it'll make Reeve's head spin!

Hugs,

Molly

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Molly, Janet, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie

Re: The Plan

OH, I LOVE IT!!! You have a great figure, Belinda. Show it off. Let Reeve see what he's missing!!! Hey, Molly, what about that guy you used to date, the body builder? He was HOT!!!

BIG HUGS!

Joanna

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Catherine, Bea

Re: Another thought

I'm the last one to give advice about men, but I do know about independence. You need to drive, Belinda. I'm going to come over to Tupelo and teach you how. Just name the weekend you'll be free.

Much love,

Clemmie

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie, Catherine, Bea

Re: Finishing School

What qualifies Reeve Lawrence to think he can personally oversee _your education!!!_

XO

Janet

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie, Janet, Bea

Re: Broken heart

Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry your heart is broken. You know, Molly's plan just might work. Take it from one who lived with the expert on manipulation. That may be the only useful tool Mother gave me.

The education idea sounds intriguing, too. Janet, I've seen wealthy, successful men in New Orleans who are better qualified to teach the fine art of living than some of the finishing school mistresses I've known. Go for it, Belinda!

XOXO

Catherine

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: My Two Cents

I like _the plan,_ and I like the bizarre _education!_ Kick butt, Belinda!

Hugs,

Bea

o0o

On Monday evening while Belinda supervised the children's bedtime preparations, Reeve waited in the den. He could hardly wait to get started.

When she came through the door, he nearly fell off his chair. What was that _thing_ she was wearing? It looked like one of those skimpy outfits he'd seen on the Miss America Pageant Quincy was so fond of watching.

She sat down and crossed her legs, her _long and lovely_ legs.

"Well, Teach, the children are in bed. Let's get started."

He cleared his throat and tried to concentrate on the business at hand.

"I'm going to take a scattergun approach to your lessons, Belinda."

She clutched her heart. "Do anything you want, master, just don't throw me in the briar patch." Her imitation of Brer Rabbit was perfect. And it gave Reeve his first glimpse of the way to successful teaching. Apparently Belinda was a great mimic and had an ear for language. He would not lecture her; he would _involve_ her.

"This area is rich with the arts, Belinda. Tupelo has ballet, symphony, community theater and an excellent art gallery. We will take advantage of every performance and every exhibit. Memphis is only a hundred miles away. The Orpheum often has great productions."

"That sounds like fun, not lessons."

"Learning can be fun." Reeve stood up and began to pace. "But don't be fooled. We will discuss each artist, each composer, each play, each ballet."

Belinda looked rapt. Or perhaps she just couldn't breath in that tight little top.

"At home we will concentrate on reading. I've made up a list for you, two books a week. You'll find all the material here in my library. If you discover you need more time, let me know. We'll work it out. Also, the books that you have already read we'll cross off the list."

Belinda crossed her legs and watched, astonished, as Reeve passed a hand over his face. Good Lord, was Molly's plan that easy?

"Poetry is meant to be read aloud." He stared at her legs a minute and then cleared his throat. "We'll start tonight with the poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning."

He opened a slim volume of poems and started reading. But he decided towering over her was wrong and so he sat down beside her. His first mistake. How could he read with her _ripe plums_ on such enticing display?

He cleared his throat and continued reading. She was leaning close to him, now, so close he could see the perfect little vee of her cleavage.

" 'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,'" he read. At that moment he looked into Belinda's eyes. His heart kicked hard against his ribs. Like a man in a dream, he slowly closed the book.

"It's getting late," he said. "We'll finish this poem tomorrow night."

After she had left the room, he sat for a long time gazing at the closed door. Reeve didn't often indulge in self-analysis, but it didn't take much to know what had happened in his den tonight. The love poems had become much too personal.

He got up and carefully placed the book back on the shelf. Then he put on a CD—Tchaikovsky's "Pathetique." It had been one of Sunny's favorite symphonies. The magnificent music soothed Reeve and helped him put the evening into perspective.

He was a man without a woman, a lonely man. And Belinda was a beautiful, desirable young woman. It was only natural that he should imagine he had directed the love poems to her.

He hadn't done that, though. He and Sunny had often sat side by side on the sofa on warm summer evenings, taking turns reading the words of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Reading her work aloud this evening had brought all those memories back. He hadn't really been reading them to Belinda; he had been reliving the past.

Having rationalized his behavior, Reeve felt much better. Everything in his life was exactly the way he wanted it now: Belinda was a good nanny; the children were happy; there was a stability and sense of permanence in his home. He would do nothing to upset that balance—nothing.

Just to make certain that he kept that promise to himself, he ripped apart tomorrow's lesson plans—the love sonnets of Shakespeare—and substituted T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland."

# Chapter Eight

The next morning when Reeve summoned Belinda to the den on the intercom she was so excited she forgot to put her assets on display. When she walked in and saw him standing beside the mantle with a perfectly lovely, perfectly elegant woman, her hopes fell.

"Belinda, I want you to meet Maureen. She's kindly agreed to a private showing. Just pick whatever you want."

She hadn't noticed the array of clothes. There were enough suits and evening gowns and dresses to outfit an army of nannies.

Now what? Though she knew perfectly well that whispering in front of somebody was rude, she marched to Reeve and leaned close so Maureen couldn't hear.

"I don't need those expensive clothes."

"I'm paying." He said it right out loud, as if money grew alongside the rosebushes in his backyard.

"I won't take them," she said, loud enough for Maureen to hear.

Reeve's expression didn't change. "Will you excuse us for a moment, Maureen? I'll have Quincy bring some coffee to you in my study."

After she had left the room, he turned to Belinda. "Whether you will take them is not a question here." He held up two dresses. "Which do you like best, the black or the green?"

"Neither. They're both plain as dirt. Anyhow, what does it matter what I like? I will not take your charity."

"This is not charity, Belinda; it's business."

"I am not a kept woman!"

"That's a ridiculous notion. No one thinks of you that way."

"Maureen will. After today she'll tell everyone all over town that you bought a ton of clothes for that little upstart from Augusta, Georgia."

Reeve chuckled. "Belinda, you can be very amusing when you get angry."

"Stop patronizing me."

"That's great!"

"I don't see what's great about it."

"I'm astonished at how quickly your vocabulary is growing."

"Why do you always think of me as your project! I'm not a project, I'm a person."

Reeve came to her and cupped her shoulders. "I know you're a person."

His voice and his touch were kind and gentle, the sort a teacher might use with a student. His actions served only to fan the flames of her indignation.

"No, you don't. You didn't even ask if I wanted a new wardrobe."

"It's a part of your education."

"Then show me some pictures. Let me look at all those designer labels in the pages of some slick magazine from Paris, but please allow me the dignity of buying my own clothes."

"What has gotten into you, Belinda?"

"Maybe I'm in—" She bit her lower lip just in time to keep from saying _love._ She needed a break; she needed a change; she needed a miracle.

"Look, Reeve, I'm sorry. Forget everything I said. Just send the clothes back with Maureen and maybe you can drop me off at the store next Saturday and I'll buy one of the outfits."

She saw the muscle working in the side of his jaw. One of the things she knew about Reeve was his bullheaded determination to do whatever he set his mind to.

"All right, Belinda," he finally said. "You can purchase the clothes." He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket big enough to buy Louisiana, with Texas thrown in for good measure. "Take this. It's a bonus for showing Mark how to catch a fly ball."

"That's part of my job."

"No. It's part of _my_ job. I'm his father. I wasn't there for him—you were. And now, if you'll excuse me, I going to send Maureen in here to take all this back to the store."

o0o

From: Belinda

To: Molly, Joanna, Catherine, Janet, Bea, Clemmie

Re: Update

I think the plan is working! I've paraded my assets like somebody in a red light district, and he's acting all hot and bothered.

Bea, you'll be glad to know I'm remaining an independent woman, too. When Reeve sent some prissy woman who looked like she had a stick up her butt to give me a private fashion show, I told him I'd buy my own clothes. You ought to see what I got! I'm going to be showing more skin than Jennifer Lopez!"

Xo

Belinda

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Molly, Janet, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie

Re: Phase Two

Cool, Belinda!!! Hey, Molly. It's time to bring out the big guns! Where's that HOTTIE you know?

Big Hugs!!!

Joanna

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Molly, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: The Other Half of the Story

You sound happier, Belinda. I'm glad. What about the other part of this plan. Is that man _teaching_ you _anything_?

XO

Janet

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Molly, Catherine, Janet, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: Fly on the Wall

OMG, Belinda! I'd like to be a fly on the wall! Keep kicking butt!

Molly, tell your friend to _call Reeve Lawrence's house!_ That will have more impact than calling Belinda's mobile. And send one of those hotties to Texas. I think my Virginia is in need of _resuscitation_!

Hugs,

Bea

From: Clemmie

To: Molly, Belinda, Bea, Catherine, Janet, Joanna

Re: A Hottie

If you have an extra hottie, send him to Peppertown, Molly. I can't wait to hear how phase two works!

Hug,

Clemmie

From: Catherine

To: Molly, Belinda, Bea, Clemmie, Janet, Joanna

Re: Bea's Virginia

OMG, Bea! May I remind you that you were the one who wrote the rules? No sex without a wedding ring!

Belinda, is this man the marrying kind? Also, you'd better check to see if that house is a shrine to his dead wife. Next weekend you have off, why don't you come down to New Orleans, sweetie? There are some really hot guys on campus, and the French Quarter is just crawling with men! You might see something that will change your mind about Reeve Lawrence.

Gotta run! A HUGE test tomorrow.

XOXO

Catherine

o0o

Molly didn't take long to launch her plan of sending in the hotties.

Belinda got the first phone call the next evening after she and Reeve returned from dinner at one of Tupelo's fancier restaurants. He had just removed her jacket and was hanging it in the hall closet.

"Call's for you, Belinda. It's some _man._ " Quincy was grinning when she held out the phone. It would be just like her to guess what Belinda was up to.

Reeve paused in the act of shutting the closet door. When Belinda took the phone, she heard a really sexy male voice asking her for a date.

"That sounds lovely." She made herself giggle in the way that makes a man wonder what a woman is up to. "Yes! I'd be thrilled!"

"Was that a friend of yours?" Reeve asked after she'd hung up. He was trying to act casual, but she noticed he'd walked off and left the closet door wide open.

"No. Just someone who saw me at the restaurant tonight."

"A perfect stranger called you?"

"Yes. After we left, he inquired who we were. Then he called me." Belinda was enjoying her power. Reeve had held the reins far too long. "He sounded very nice," she added.

Reeve made a visible effort at regaining his self-control.

"You have to be careful of strangers, Belinda."

"Some of the best times of my life have been with strangers."

His face got red, but still he held on to that iron control of his. Belinda decided to prod him a little.

"Just think of all the fun I'd have missed if I had turned Charlie Crocket down because he was a stranger."

"The man who wanted to pick your plums?" Reeve enunciated each word as if he were spitting bullets.

Belinda laughed. "That's the one."

"And what was this man offering?"

"You're asking me what he was offering? You're asking me that? _You,_ the absolute master of bribery and gestapo tactics?"

"Would you like to explain your accusations?"

"I think they are self-evident."

"What do you consider bribery, Belinda? The dinner, the wine, the clothes?"

"Take your choice. I'm bought and paid for."

"In that case I may as well get my money's worth."

His mouth came down on hers, and he kissed her with such savage fury both of them were left breathless. When he finally let her go, he stared at her as if he had never seen her before.

She didn't dare speak, didn't dare move. She barely dared breathe. The man she loved had just kissed her and she was in heaven—and in hell.

She drew herself out of his embrace and stood facing him.

"Did you get your money's worth?" she said.

Her nerves frayed as she watched him, waiting.

Finally he said, "I'm sorry, Belinda. I lost my temper. It won't happen again." And then he turned and walked up the stairs.

She watched until he'd disappeared, and then crossed to the closet and shut the door before she went to her own bedroom.

She opened her computer and shot off an email to her friends.

From: Belinda

To: Molly, Joanna, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: Our Big Plan

That guy called and I said yes, but I think it might have backfired. Molly, make sure he knows this is not a real date, that he's just doing you a favor. I don't want to lose Reeve.

XO

Belinda

She didn't even wait for a reply. Instead she got into her gown and lay sleepless in her bed, wondering if Reeve meant what he said about never kissing her again.

o0o

Reeve lay in bed, rigid with anger. That was all he needed. Some man interested in a casual fling coming along to take Belinda away from him. Just when everything was going so well.

He had shaped her and polished her, and now, when she was sparkling like a fine diamond, some fool was going to turn her head and talk to her about a trip down to the Bahamas or a fun weekend in Las Vegas. Then Reeve would be looking for another nanny for his children. They would be heartbroken.

Besides that, Quincy would never stop berating him for losing Belinda. In addition, he would once more be left alone, trying to juggle work and children and all the myriad details of his life that Belinda took care of.

He sat up and gave his pillow a vicious punch. Maybe things would look better tomorrow. Perhaps he was overreacting.

o0o

Belinda's boyfriend was worse than Reeve had imagined, a big brainless-looking jock with a bone-crushing handshake. And what was that little outfit Belinda was wearing? It wasn't big enough to cover a sneeze.

He said, "Have a good time, Belinda," which was patently ridiculous when he meant exactly the opposite.

Then he hurried off to his office and shut the door. Work, that was the ticket. Forget about Belinda and the jock.

The evening dragged by, and when the car came back up his driveway he popped out of his chair like a man shot from a cannon. To make matters worse, he went to the window like some lovesick teenager. To spy, for God's sake.

When the muscle-bound fool leaned down to kiss her, Reeve gripped the windowsill so hard his knuckles turned white. Thank God, Belinda had sense enough to break away so the kiss landed on her cheerk.

He marched back to his desk, feeling a certain amount of self-righteous satisfaction. But it was to be short-lived.

The next day, much to Reeve's horror, Belinda was suddenly a hot item in town. Men were suddenly crawling out of the woodworks, keeping the telephone lines hot trying to get a date.

Reeve stood by with tightly clenched jaws, observing the emergence of his creation into the social whirl. He didn't even bother to meet the second guy who picked her up, somebody by the name of Jerry Orion, she'd said. It was none of his business.

He shut himself into his office and set to work. He'd be leaving for Paris within the week, and he had a lot to do.

Finally he stood up to stretch and glanced at the clock with some alarm. Belinda had been gone three hours. Good Lord, how long did it take to see a movie?

Granted, they would probably stop for hamburgers on the way home. The young man was probably the hamburger type. On the other hand, what if he had driven Belinda to some dark country road and parked? Did people still do that these days?

Reeve began to pace. He needed to warn her about men like Jerry Orion. What kind of name was that, anyway? It sounded suspicious to him, like a fictitious name. What if he had let Belinda go out with a criminal?

He looked at the clock again. Three and a half hours. He started to call the police, then realized the folly of that move.

Reeve made himself stop pacing and sit down at his desk. The French project seemed to glare up at him.

Suddenly he lifted the file and a new, horrifying thought came into his head. There was no telling what would happen while he was abroad. He might even come back to find Belinda engaged... or married. After all, she was the most beautiful, most desirable, most charming woman in town. Thanks to him.

He clenched his jaw. Belinda was _his._ She was his creation. For a moment, Reeve let his emotions take charge as he thought of all the awful possibilities.

Then the businessman in him took over. He had never seen a problem that couldn't be solved. He went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, then he came back to his desk and began to work out a solution to his problem.

# Chapter Nine

Belinda figured she would go down in history as the most boring date of Jerry Orion's life. Thank goodness, he knew this was only a game. And fortunately, he was the kind of guy who didn't need help in being entertained. She could have been a pumpkin head sitting on a mop handle, and he still would have stayed out till past midnight, having a big time.

Finally she couldn't stand the suspense any longer. She had to find out if this latest ploy was working with Reeve.

"I hate to be a party pooper," she said, "but it's getting rather late."

"I take it that means you want to go home?"

"Yes, please. And thanks for being such a good sport."

"Anything for Molly Rakestraw. And just for the record, I'd have asked you without her proding if I'd known what a hot chick you are."

He took her home, then kissed her goodnight and left whistling.

She saw light under Reeve's office door the minute she got to the hall. She thought about waltzing straight over and knocking on his door, but then decided to play it cool and go upstairs.

She had her foot on the first step when Reeve opened his door. Light poured out into the darkened hall.

"Belinda."

"Yes?" She hoped she'd used just the right inflection of aloofness.

"Would you come in here, please?"

He had gone back to his desk and was sitting in his chair by the time she entered his office. She sat in the chair facing his desk.

"Did you have a good time this evening?" he asked.

"Yes," she lied, studying him closely, trying to gauge his feelings. He seemed extraordinarily relaxed.

"What did you think of the movie?"

"You know me. I love all movies."

"Yes." He smiled. "I know you."

There was something strange about this interview, something unlike any of their other meetings, but Belinda couldn't put her finger on it. She became wary.

"Is there anything specific you want to talk about, Reeve?"

"Indulge me a moment—please." He actually smiled at her. She guessed that meant he was happy she'd gone out with Jerry. Maybe Reeve was even hoping Jerry would take her off his hands.

"Do you have plans to see this young man again?"

"Does my job hinge on my answer?"

"No. And please feel no compunction to answer if you don't want to."

"Since you put it that way—no, I don't plan to see him again."

Reeve smiled once more. Belinda held on to her composure, but it was hard. Keeping her love a secret from a cool and aloof Reeve was one thing; keeping it a secret from a warm and smiling Reeve was another. She folded her hands in her lap and watched him with all the quiet dignity she could muster.

Reeve fiddled with his letter opener. Such a nervous gesture was unusual for him. When he dropped it back to his desk with a clank, Belinda jumped.

"I suppose you want to get married someday," Reeve said.

_Married._ What was Reeve thinking? She decided to play it light. "I used to think about that a good bit, but my best prospects got away."

"Ah, yes. Charlie and Matt?" He studied her a while, then said suddenly, "Did you love them?"

"No."

"But you considered marrying them?"

"At the time I thought it was a good idea."

"I see." Reeve picked up the letter opener once more and ran his finger down the length of the blade. His eyes were dark and unfathomable as he looked at her across his desk, then very carefully he put the letter opener back down on the desk.

"Belinda, I have a business proposition for you."

"Another one?"

"Yes." He smiled again. "This time I plan to tell you my reasons before I propose the business arrangement. All I ask is that you please hear me out before you say anything."

"Agreed."

"You know that after my wife died I had a hard time keeping a nanny for the children. I lost eight of them in two years. Some of them left of their own accord. I fired the others." He paused to let that bit of information sink in.

"My household and, indeed, my very life, seemed to be out of control. I am a man who likes order and routine and a sense of permanence. I need stability and I want my children to have it, too."

He rose from his chair and stood gazing out the window at the darkness. Belinda didn't say anything. She hardly dared breathe. Prickles danced along her skin, and she developed a nervous itch on her elbow, but she wasn't about to scratch it. Ladies didn't scratch.

Reeve turned from the window and walked to her chair. Then he squatted beside her and took her hand. "Your hand is cold."

"Am I allowed to respond?"

"Yes."

"Yes, my hands are cold—and yours are warm."

"That makes us a team. I'll transfer some of my warmth to you." He took both her hands and chafed them between his. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

He studied her a long time before he said anything. Having him so close made her pulse race. She hoped she wouldn't do anything foolish, like blurting out the truth.

"Belinda, what I am about to propose is going to sound shocking to you at first, but I want you to give it very careful consideration. You don't have to tell me your answer right away. You can give me your answer in the morning."

"The answer to what?"

He surprised her by moving to his desk, and then standing there all remote and formal.

"In less than a week I'll be leaving for France. I've decided that the best way to ensure permanence in my household is to marry you."

_"Marry_ me!"

"This is strictly a business proposition. In return for your loyalty to me and my children, I will provide a generous income for the rest of your life and a house to be purchased for you at my death. Naturally, my children will inherit this house." He gave her time to digest his proposal before he continued, "I won't expect to exert any conjugal rights. I am not buying your body, just your loyalty."

Had he lost his mind! She sat there in shocked silence.

"Belinda? Did you understand everything I said?"

"Perfectly. And I don't know how you could doubt my loyalty."

"I don't doubt it, Belinda. I appreciate it, but there is no guarantee you'll stay. You are a lovely young woman. You won't always be content to stay in my house and take care of my children. Before long some young man will turn your head, and you'll leave."

Her head was spinning. Here she was, sitting in Reeve's office listening to her dream come true. She should feel excited and happy. Married to the man she loved.

"If you agree to this proposition, we'll be married before the week is out. I'll arrange for all the necessary tests and legal documents tomorrow."

"Just like that?"

"Yes, it's that simple. I know this is unexpected, and you don't have to give your answer tonight, Belinda. But I would like an answer in the morning."

"What about love?" she whispered.

"I thought I made that clear. This is a business proposition, one I want to get settled before I leave to develop foreign markets for Lawrence Enterprises."

"I know... you want to marry me for business reasons. Did you marry Sunny for love?"

"Of course."

"Then how do I know you won't fall in love again and divorce _me—if_ I decide to marry you."

"Belinda, love is well and good for the young and the innocent. I had it once, and I'm grateful for that, but I don't plan to indulge in it again. A man with a family can't build his life on emotion, but he can build it on careful planning.''

"Like selecting the right stocks and investing in the right properties?"

"Precisely."

"No," she said.

"I beg your pardon."

"I said _No._ " She stood up, barely clinging to control. "I won't marry you under these conditions, Reeve. I am more than a good stock investment."

"Of course, you are, Belinda. I didn't mean to imply that."

"You didn't have to imply, Reeve. You said it outright. First I'm a project and now I'm a business proposition."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm sorry."

He looked genuinely contrite and more than a little puzzled. Still, she stood there quietly, not willing to let him off the hook so easily.

"Look, Belinda. Maybe we can work out a compromise. I'll take you to Rome, Paris, London. I'll buy you a new car, jewels, whatever you want. Just name it."

She wanted to slap him.

"If you think I'd sell myself to you or any man, you don't know me at all Reeve Lawrence."

Suddenly, he looked so defeated she almost felt sorry for him.

"What do you want, Belinda?"

"Now that I've turned you down, I want to know if I still get to keep my job."

"Of course, you get to keep your job!"

"You don't have to roar."

"I'm not roaring."

"Yes, you are. Furthermore, there's something else I have to tell you."

Reeve sat down like a man suddenly too tired to stand.

"I can hardly wait to hear," he said. It gave her no satisfaction that he meant exactly the opposite.

"My name is not Belinda Diamond. It's Stubaker."

"Good lord." He ran his hands through his hair. "Did somebody pay you to come into my home and ingratiate yourself to me and my family?"

"No. I made up the name so I could start my new life in Tupelo as a brand new woman. I succeeded, too." She jutted out her chin and defied him to contradict her. "I wanted a name that was glamorous and sparkly and shiny, like the new life I imagined I'd have."

For a moment his face softened, and she felt a wild hope that they could start over and somehow salvage a relationship that until tonight had been friendly and playful. And then that hard expression came back into his face.

"What's your next revelation, Belinda _Stubaker._ That you have a criminal record?"

She felt as if she'd been socked in the stomach. Her fists clenched as she glared at him.

"No," she said, "but I'm fixing to."

"When?"

"If you ever propose to me again without being down on your knees, I going to shoot you."

# Chapter Ten

From: Belinda

To: Molly, Joanna, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie, Bea

Re: Plan Gone Awry

You are not going to believe this. Reeve asked me to be his wife – in a marriage of convenience!!! I nearly slapped him silly. And that was after I told him no! Still, I'm crazy in love with him, and can't even imagine what I'll do if I end up losing him.

XO

Belinda

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Bea, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie, Janet

Re: The nerve!

OMG, _shoot him_ and move on!

XOXO

Catherine

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Bea, Molly, Joanna, Catherine, Clemmie

Re: What?

A marriage of _convenience!!!!_ Is he _out of his mind!!!!_ That went out with the _Dark Ages!_ Belinda, are you sure he's the man for you?

Xo

Janet

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie

Re: Full Throttle

Everybody just hold your horses! True, that was a _really dumb_ idea. If I didn't know that Lawrence Enterprises is a Fortune 500 company, I'd think Reeve Lawrence didn't have a brain.

Belinda, you're kicking butt! A man talking marriage is already halfway to the altar. It's time to _step up the heat!!!! Get independent!_ Make him think you're _leaving him!_

Hugs,

Bea

From: Clemmie

To: Bea, Belinda, Joanna, Molly, Catherine, Janet

Re: Sunday!

Oh, Bea, that's brilliant! Belinda, if you're off on Sunday, I'm coming over to teach you how to drive. Then you can rent a car and go off without having to depend on one of Molly's guys to escort you.

Hugs,

Clemmie

From: Molly

To: Clemmie, Belinda, Joanna, Catherine, Janet, Bea

Re: Driving

How deliciously sneaky!!! Clemmie, I didn't know you had it in you! There's nothing to driving, Belinda. Just give it the gas and hold it in the road!

Much love,

Molly

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Clemmie, Molly, Catherine, Janet, Bea

Re: Gambling

OH, I LOVE THIS! Belinda, tell him you're going over to Tunica gambling!!!! LOL! That'll get his motor running!!! Trust me. Men are VERY protective. Kirk thinks I can't tie my Adidas without him.

BIG HUGS!

Joanna

From: Belinda

To: Clemmie, Molly, Joanna, Bea, Janet, Catherine

Re: Driving Lessons

I feel so much better now! Come over Sunday, Clemmie, but where will I practice? I don't want to wreck your car.

Xo

Belinda

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Bea, Janet, Catherine

Re: Sunday

Find a big open space. There are some huge farms between here and Tupelo. Hussey Sod Farm, for one. There ought to be plenty of cow pastures we can use.

Hugs,

Clemmie

Belinda closed her laptop and put on a tank top and jeans so tight they looked like they'd been painted on. Let Mr. Marriage of Convenience get a look at that! Then she hurried down the stairs so he could see what he was missing. If she hadn't still been smarting from last night's encounter, she'd have giggled. Lord, she was turning into a devious woman!

Reeve had dark circles under his eyes, and when he saw her, he went pale. Her first instinct was to reassure him. Thank the Lord, her friends had given her the backbone to act like she didn't even care.

"Good morning, Reeve. Have you had breakfast?"

"No. I'll grab a bite in town."

She took a certain wicked pleasure in the fact that he wasn't hungry. It served him right.

"Great! Have a good day!" She sashayed by, putting an extra swing in her hips. He went out the door, and if she wasn't mistaken, slammed it behind him. Things were looking up!

She found Quincy in the kitchen with the children. Mark and Betsy jumped up from the table and hugged her around the knees.

"Do you want to climb trees?" Betsy said.

"Go to the playroom and color first, then I'll come get you and we'll climb trees."

As they scampered off, Quincy put her hands on her hips and turned to face Belinda.

"What's that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"Devilment."

"Oh, that! I'm just trying to figure out some nice big open space where I can learn how to drive."

"If you're expectin' me to teach you, you're barkin' up the wrong tree."

"My friend Clementine Brady is going is to do that. All I need is for you to tell me where we can go and keep it a secret."

"If you mean not lie to Mr. Reeve, I can't do that."

"Oh, no, Quincy. I don't want you to lie, but I don't want him to worry while he's gone, either. Just don't tell him till he gets back from France. By then, I'll be so good I can drive in a NASCAR race."

o0o

Quincy's brother, Australia, had a farm in nearby Mooreville. On Sunday, Belinda careened wildly over the rutted pasture while Clemmie cringed in the passenger seat of her Toyota.

"Oh my God, Belinda! You nearly hit that old man's cow."

"It was a bull."

"Who cares! If you'd pay more attention to your driving than the creature's anatomy, you might get the hang of this."

"I'm hopeless. I told you I would be."

"Turn right! Quick!"

Belinda made a sharp turn left and the Toyota careened toward one of Australia's prize Herefords.

"Stop!" Clemmie grabbed the wheel and corrected direction. "What are you doing?"

"You said turn."

"I said right. Let's just stop and regroup."

Belinda got flustered and rammed the gas pedal instead of the brake. The cow went bellowing off across the pasture, and the car swerved toward Australia's lake at top speed.

Clemmie reached over and rammed her foot on the brake, and the car shimmied to a stop at the lake's edge.

"Lord, Belinda. I thought you were going to baptize us."

"I don't think that would help scheming women like us."

They looked at each other and cracked up, then sat there laughing till tears rolled down their cheeks.

By the time Australia arrived at the car, intent on rescuing two crying women, they were nearly in hysterics from laughing so much.

"Women," he said. "I ain't never gonna understand 'em."

o0o

From: Belinda

To: Clemmie, Joanna, Molly, Janet, Bea, Catherine

Re: Progress Report

I might learn to drive by the time I'm forty! The good news is that with Reeve in Paris, I can practice in Quincy's car without having to sneak around. Things have been so tense since his fake marriage proposal, it was a relief to see him leave. The thing is, I don't know if seeing me drive will change a thing for him. He's likely to simply offer to buy me a car.

Xo

Belinda

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Janet, Bea, Molly, Joanna, Catherine

Re: Driving

Don't let Belinda fool you. She's doing great!

Xo

Clemmie

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Clemmie, Catherine, Bea, Molly, Joanna

Re: Driving

_Every_ woman needs to know how to drive! I still question whether he's the right man for you. Now that he's out of the house, think about whether you really love him or you just got used to having him around.

Hugs,

Janet

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Joanna, Clemmie, Catherine, Janet, Bea

Re: Paris

OMG, email Reeve and tell him to look me up while he's in Paris! I'll sing your praises so loud he'll think you're a cross between the Virgin Mary and Madonna (the singer, not the saint)!!! OH, here's another brainstorm!!! While he's gone, put your mark in his bedroom. You know, perfume on his sheets. I wear Jungle Gardenia when I model, and it drives the artist I pose for mad!!! The last time I went to a session, he chased me around his gallery. As you can guess, he wanted to do more to my body than reproduce it on canvas!

Much love,

Molly

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Molly, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine, Janet

Re: His Sheets

Don't just squirt perfume on his sheet, Belinda! Roll in them! Sleep in them!!! You want your body's own musk to mingle with the perfume! OH MY!!! You'll drive him WILD!

Big Hugs,

Joanna

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Joanna, Molly, Clemmie, Janet, Bea

Re: Love it!

Do you want me to send you some French perfume? There's a fabulous little place on Bourbon that mixes these really exotic fragrances.

XO

Catherine

From: Bea

To: Catherine, Belinda, Molly, Clemmie, Janet, Joanna

Re: Perfume

Hot damn! I like it! It's probably going to take more than one night in his bed to get your scent on his sheets, Belinda. Just _don't_ let him _catch_ you!

Did you mean _erotic,_ Catherine?

Hugs,

Bea

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Bea, Molly, Clemmie, Janet, Joanna

Re: French fragrance

That too, Bea!!

Belinda, good luck, sweetie!

Xo

Cat

o0o

Reeve arrived home from Paris at midnight. He let himself in the front door, then carried his bag up the stairs. He paused outside Belinda's bedroom door. She would be sleeping, her hair spread across the pillow like a bolt of silk and her long eyelashes curved over her soft cheeks.

The urge to see her was so great he put one hand on the doorknob.

_Don't be a fool,_ he told himself. Besides, what did he think he would do once he got into her bedroom? Take her into his arms and kiss her hello?

Reeve set his jaw in determined lines and headed for his own bedroom. He set his bag just inside the door and stripped off his coat and tie. He was exhausted. It would be good to climb into bed.

His belt buckle rattled as he tossed his pants toward the valet and missed. He must be more exhausted then he'd thought. He'd never missed before.

He squinted his eyes, trying to find his pants and hang them up, but it was too dark. That was another thing—what were the draperies doing shut in his room? He liked moonlight streaming through the windows. It must be Quincy's doing. She was always changing little things, merely to assert her power.

Reeve thought about opening the curtains, but gave up on the idea. He was too tired even to walk across the room. Stripping off his shorts, he climbed into bed. The cool sheet settled over him.

Something stirred in his bed. Reeve stiffened.

Soft murmurings came from the other side of the bed, and the scent of roses wafted toward him.

"Reeve?" a soft voice whispered.

He sat up and snapped on his bedside light. Belinda lay stretched upon his bed, her hair tumbled and her eyes bright.

"What are you doing in my bed?"

She sat up, hugging the covers to her chest.

"If you're going to shout, the least you could do is put on some clothes. I don't fancy arguing with a naked man."

"I always sleep naked—and alone," he said, not even bothering to cover himself with the sheet. He was furious, more at himself than Belinda. He had lost control. The bad part was he couldn't seem to get it back. Especially with Belinda only inches away, her gown straps slipping down her shoulders and her lips still pouty from sleep.

"Did you have a good trip?" She smiled at him.

"Did I have a good trip!" He ran his hands through his hair. "Hell. What kind of question is that?"

"It's the kind a person asks when somebody returns from a trip."

"It's midnight—or haven't you noticed?"

"It's hard to notice anything with you undressed like that."

She sounded composed enough, but he noted with a certain amount of satisfaction that she was staring at him – and blushing. He got up and stalked across the room to pick up his shorts.

Keeping his back to her and his teeth clenched, he rammed his legs into his shorts.

"Would you mind explaining what you are doing in my bed?"

"Sleeping."

"Sleeping!"

"I suppose that jet airplane has damaged your hearing."

"No. I heard you perfectly well the first time. I simply can't believe what I'm hearing."

"My bed was lumpy, so I used yours. I hope you don't mind."

She climbed out of bed and stretched in a luxurious way that had every one of her assets on mouth-watering display. Where did she get a gown like that? He thought about turning off the light, but she might fall and break a leg in the dark. More to the point, he'd probably fall and break his privates, which were making an embarrassing show of themselves.

"Not at all." He tried to for casual, but failed. "In fact, there's no need for you to go to your room at all. Just hop back into bed and we'll continue our discussion."

Her skin turned a lovely shade of pink, and every emotion from satisfaction to worry passed across her face. As he waited for her to leave, he managed to bring himself back under control.

"It's midnight, Reeve." Belinda gave him a Madonna-like smile. "Do you want to discuss this tonight, or do you want to come to bed and get a good night's sleep so we can be fresh when we talk about it in the morning?"

Then the woman climbed back into _his_ bed, and smiled at him again.

"I'll take this side; you take that side. Is that all right with you?" she asked.

"It's just perfect."

"Peachy!"

She rolled to her side and he found himself crawling into his own bed trying not to touch any part of her.

_A good night's sleep?_ Was the woman out of her mind? The mattress shifted under his weight, and Belinda rolled a little toward him. When her soft thigh brushed against his, he almost jumped out of the bed.

"Oops, sorry," she said, moving her leg a fraction.

"That's perfectly all right." He snapped off the light and lay rigidly on his side of the bed. "Good night, Belinda."

"Good night, Reeve."

Her silk gown whispered against his legs and her fragrance invaded his senses. He felt his passion rise. One simple movement would put her in his arms, and he didn't care how foolish he'd look.

"Sweet dreams, Reeve."

_Sweet dreams, indeed._ She didn't know the half of it.

o0o

A sweet fragrance and the vague awareness of being watched woke Reeve up. He opened his eyes and squinted into the semidarkness. Belinda was sitting on a chair beside his bed, faintly outlined in the gloom and smelling of roses.

"Good morning," she said.

He turned his head toward the windows, expecting to see the morning sun streaming through. Instead he saw only darkness.

"What time is it?" He sat up and immediately regretted it. He had a blinding headache, brought on no doubt by jet lag and a sleepless night with Belinda in his bed.

"Eleven o'clock."

"Eleven o'clock!"

"You needn't shout. I haven't lost my hearing."

"I never sleep until eleven o'clock."

"It's because you're tired from your trip."

"It's those damned curtains over my windows." He vaulted out of bed, intent on getting to the windows to draw his curtains, when the pain in his head stopped him. He clenched his teeth.

' 'Reeve!'' Belinda came out of her chair and caught his arm. Her touch sizzled through him, and he gritted his teeth anew. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he nearly shouted. Then, forcing himself to moderate his tone, he stepped out of her reach and snapped on the bedside lamp. "I'm fine, Belinda, just a little out of sorts from having overslept."

"I would have awakened you if I had known—"

"It's not your place."

"If you'll care to remember, you hired me to help Quincy take care of things around here. I just came up to see if you wanted me to bring you breakfast in bed."

"Are you suggesting I'm so old I can't get out of bed after a long flight and make my way into the kitchen for my own breakfast?"

"I'm suggesting no such thing. And you need not raise your voice. I'm perfectly capable of hearing." She gave him that satisfied cat's smile. "Especially after such a wonderful night's sleep."

"You slept well?"

"Yes. Your bed is very comfortable."

The last thing he wanted was for Belinda to view him as _comfortable._ The next thing he knew she'd be bringing his slippers and hanging a shawl over his shoulders. Is that why she'd turned him down? Because he was too old for her?

He decided not to pursue the subject, especially not at the moment. Waking up to the sight of Belinda in his bedroom was doing diabolical things to his libido. If he weren't careful, he'd have his favorite nanny running for the nearest employment office.

"That's really very kind of you, Belinda, but I'm going to shower and head straight to the office." She sat there, still smiling. "I usually shower alone, but I'll share the bath with you if you like. It wouldn't be much different from sharing my bed."

"Oh." She turned six shades of red, and jumped up like her coattail was on fire. "No, of course. I'll just go back downstairs and tell Quincy not to save breakfast for you."

"Nor dinner either. I'll be working late tonight." Belinda was still blushing, and he seized the upper hand. "Of course, if you want to share my bed again tonight, you're more than welcome. I promise to stay on my side."

"No, that's okay."

As she hurried from the room, he congratulated himself on talking back control – until he fell back against the pillows and smelled roses. Not just roses, but a sweet musky scent that could only have come from Belinda's gorgeous, silky skin.

He ripped back the covers and stalked into his bathroom. His nanny was going to drive him crazy.

# Chapter Eleven

From: Belinda

To: Janet, Bea, Catherine, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna

Re: The Perfume Ploy

I think the perfume is working! Reeve has acted like a sore-tailed tomcat ever since he came back from Paris, and I noticed he won't let Quincy change his sheets! Oh, and by the way, Quincy took me to get my driver's license!

Xo

Belinda

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Janet, Bea, Catherine, Clemmie, Molly

Re: Strike Now!

You're got him on the ropes, Belinda! Go for the knockout punch!!! Get in the car and go to Tunica! Make sure he knows where you're going!

Big Hugs!

Joanna

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Bea, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: Go for it!

Wear your most seductive outfit! Make sure he sees you! Be sure to say you'll be _gambling!_

Much love,

Molly

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Bea, Janet, Catherine, Molly, Joanna

Re: Car

Do you want to borrow my car? I can even go with you in case you have any trouble driving.

Xo

Clemmie

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna

Re: Darned tests

OMG, this is wonderful – and it's working! If I didn't have so much studying to do, I'd drive up and watch the grand finale!

XO

Catherine

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Bea, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna, Catherine

Re: All right

Color me _wrong!_ I'll be the first to admit it. Love trumps common sense. The mere thought of it scares me to death. Thank God, I have my internship to get through. But if Mr. Right ever does show up, I'm glad to have you guys in my corner.

Still, may I remind all of you that we are _independent women,_ and will remain that way even after the wedding ring!

XO

Janet

From:Bea

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie, Joanna, Molly

Re: Celebrating

Looks like you've just about let that man chase you till you catch him! Wait till I tell Mother. Glory Ethel _loves_ being right. God bless her. If she weren't such a sweetheart, I'd resent that.

Yee Haw, Belinda! I'm going to celebrate your _almost victory_ by riding a mechanical bull. If somebody doesn't discover my Virginia soon, it's liable to be the only thing I ride.

XO

Bea

o0o

Reeve could hear Belinda already awake in the bedroom next door. Her fragrance wafted up from his sheets, and he rolled onto his stomach, smothering his groans in his pillow. He didn't have the least idea what he was going to do about her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought of Belinda as his children's nanny. He couldn't bear the idea of not having her in his home, in his life. Furthermore, if he didn't let Quincy wash these damned sheets, she was going to give him what for. She was one of the wisest women he knew. The last thing he needed was for his housekeeper to get on his case.

He dressed quickly and headed down the stairs, hoping to sneak off and hole up in his office without seeing her. He knew it was an act of desperation and cowardice, but at this point, he didn't know what else to do. Sleeping on sheets that smelled like Belinda had him so muddle-headed it was a miracle he could conduct business. Nobody should expect him to make life-changing decisions, least of all, himself.

"Good morning, Reeve." He jumped when he heard her voice. She was smiling when he turned and saw her in the doorway to the den. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't startle me. I forgot my car keys, that's all." He patted his pockets in a big show of finding his eyes. What was that she was wearing? Good God, it had so many sequins you could see her a mile. Everybody in Lee County would be gawking. And, boy, was there plenty to gawk at!

"I see you're dressed for a day off."

"Yes. I'm going on a little outing."

"That's nice." He didn't sound the least bit sincere. She was going to be suspicious as hell.

"I hope so. They say Tunica is a great place to visit."

"I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Did you say Tunica?"

"Yes. I'm going gambling."

It took him a full two minutes to get himself under control.

"Well, you have a nice time, then. I'll see you when you get home."

How he managed to walk past her and climb into his car was one of life's small, everyday miracles. Still, he couldn't back the car out for a full minute and half. He just sat there like a crazy man.

Reeve wasn't even going to think about Belinda sitting at a slot machine, surrounded by men gaping at that outfit and getting ideas.

o0o

"Quincy, do you mind if I borrow your car?"

"Of course not. But if you want to see the sights, tell Mr. Reeve. He'll take you."

"Didn't Sunny ever go on outings?"

"Shopping, mostly." Quincy got her keys out of her purse and handed them to Belinda. "But she didn't call it an outin'."

"Well, I don't like to shop. I like outings." Holding the key made her think about the long drive ahead, more than fifty miles, and that made her sweat on her sequined top. "Will you see that the children have snacks while I'm gone?"

"Don't I always take care of them like they was my own? I smell somethin' rotten here, and it's not Denmark."

"If I'm not back by five, you may call Reeve and inform him of my whereabouts."

"And whereabouts would that be?"

"I've already told him I'm going over to Tunica. In case he forgets, you can remind him."

"You're goin' _gambling?"_

"Yep. Maybe carousing, too! You never can tell about me, Quincy."

"Lordy have mercy. It's a wonder he didn't have a conniption fit."

"If he did, I couldn't tell."

"That man's as buttoned up as two-piece suit." Quincy grabbed a dish cloth and started wiping down the kitchen counters. "You be careful now, you hear. I don't know what we'd do around here without you."

Belinda left before Quincy could say anything else. She wasn't all that sure about her plan in the first place. It wouldn't have taken too much talking to convince her not to go. But she _had_ to go. She had to make Reeve see her as an independent woman who might just spread her wings and fly out of right out of his house and his life.

She climbed into the car and squared her shoulders. She could drive and she was going to have a great time. Then Reeve would sit up and notice.

o0o

"Carousing?" Reeve glared at the telephone as if it had struck him.

"That's what I said," Quincy shouted on the other end of the line. She abhorred phones and always considered it necessary to shout in order to be heard. "She said she was going gamblin' and maybe carousin' too and she told me to call you if she wasn't back by five, but I didn't want to cause no disturbance."

"I'll be right home," Reeve said.

Panic hounded Reeve all the way home. It was six-thirty. What could have happened to Belinda?

For the sake of the children, he acted as if their nanny had indeed merely gone on a small outing. But by the time he had tucked them into bed, he was almost ready to call the police. Visions of Belinda lying crumpled in a ditch haunted him. Or worse. Somewhere in a cheap motel with her throat slit.

Quincy kept the vigil with him, wringing her hands and moaning. "Oh, Lord, I never shoulda loaned her my car, and her barely knowin' how to drive."

"Belinda can't drive?"

"I'm not deaf, Mr. Reeve."

"I'm sorry, Quincy. It's not your fault." Reeve ran his hands through his hair. "I didn't know she couldn't drive."

"I guess there's lots of things you don't know about her." Quincy rose on her still old legs. "I'm goin' to bed and I'm fixing to pray to the good Lord that no harm comes to Belinda. Lordy, she's just a sweet little thing."

Reeve wanted to yell and ram his fist through the wall. Belinda was an incredible woman—and now he had lost her. He forced himself to act calm.

"Good night, Quincy. Don't worry about a thing. I'm sure she's all right."

After Quincy had gone, Reeve poured himself a good stiff drink of scotch.

At ten-thirty Belinda came strolling in, smiling.

"Hello, Reeve." She tossed the car keys onto the coffee table, then sank onto the sofa.

Relief made Reeve so weak he had to sit. He couldn't even speak for a while, just sat in his chair, staring at her sparkling top and brooding.

"Did you enjoy your day off?" He lifted his glass and stared at her over the rim.

"I had a blast!"

He didn't even want to think what that entailed.

"I'm glad."

"You don't look glad."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"They certainly can."

She waited for him to reply, but he just sat there nursing his drink and staring at her. Belinda felt like screaming. Here she had spent the day off on her own, nearly run over by two trucks and lost as a goose, to boot, and all he could do was sit there and act like she barely existed.

She stood up, head held high and marched from the room. When she was at the door, he called after her.

"Where are you going?''

"Does it matter?"

Belinda hesitated in the doorway, torn between wanting to turn around and run to him and not wanting to make a fool of herself. A few long seconds ticked by, and then she left the den and closed the door.

Reeve stared at the closed door for a long time. Suddenly, everything in his household was falling apart.

o0o

From: Belinda

To: Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna, Molly, Catherine

Re: Gambling and Carousing

I went gambling in the sluttiest outfit I could find and it got his attention. But not the kind I wanted. He's down there in the den madder than a hornet, and I'm up here in my bedroom mad enough to spit nails.

Now what?

Belinda

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Molly, Catherine

Re: Go to the mat!

You've got him just where you want him. Get back down there!

Joanna

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna, Catherine

Re: Knock Out

Wear plenty of perfume! He won't know what hit him.

Molly

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna, Catherine

Re: THE WIN

Your own private Santa Claus is not going to hand Reeve to you on a silver platter. You've got to _grab what you want._ Now get back down there and _kick butt_!

Bea

From: Clemmie

To: Belinda, Janet, Molly, Joanna, Catherine, Bea

Re: Wedding

We can have the wedding in my backyard by the gazebo!

Clemmie

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Janet, Molly, Joanna, Bea, Clemmie

Re: Paris

Make him take you to Paris on the honeymoon. You've earned it!

Cat

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Bea, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: The Honeymoon

You've got him where you want him, Belinda. Just remember, this is a man who has been alone for a while. There's no telling how many women he's been with. Save it all for the honeymoon, and make sure he's been tested before you give him the map to Virginia! Then it wouldn't hurt to make him wear protection for while. Trust me on this. You don't want to hear what I've seen in medical school.

Now, get back downstairs, _stay in control,_ and kick ass!

Janet

Belinda powered down her laptop, then grabbed her robe and flew down the stairs. Her color was high and her belt was dragging on the floor when she flung open the den door.

Reeve was still sitting in his chair, his hair disheveled and his tie askew.

Belinda barreled into the room, forgetting every lesson he'd ever taught her on elocution and charm. But she didn't forget she was an independent woman, not for one second. Thank goodness, she had friends who made sure she didn't. And if she made a fool of herself tonight, they'd pick up the pieces.

With her hands wadded into fists, she planted herself in front of his chair.

"Here I've been, gone all day, and you didn't even ask what took me so long!''

Reeve was having the devil of a time maintaining his control. She had no idea how enticing she looked with her robe hanging open or she never would have braved his den. If the urge to hold her had been great when she first came home, the passion to kiss her was overwhelming.

"What took you so long, Belinda?"

She thrust out her chin, too furious to think straight.

"What do you care?" she said.

"You are my nanny. Therefore, I care."

She stomped away from him and prowled around the room, running her hands over his expensive furniture. When she was behind the sofa, she gripped the back and glared at him.

"You care as much about your Oriental rug as you care about me."

"Forgive me for seeming dense, Belinda, but I fail to see how caring enters into our relationship. We have a business deal, remember?"

"How could I forget? You remind me at least three times a day."

"Perhaps that's because you need reminding, my dear."

"Stop calling my 'my dear' in that schoolteacher voice. I'm not your dear."

A muscle jumped in Reeve's clenched jaw and he carefully set his scotch on the table. "Belinda, I see no need to continue this discussion."

"Discussion. _Discussion."_ She loosened her grip on the sofa and strode to his chair, her hands on her hips. "This is not a _discussion—_ this is a fight."

"I never fight."

"Why do you have to always be so damned civilized?"

"Ladies don't curse."

"Maybe I'm not a lady."

"You are. I made you a lady."

_"You."_ Belinda was in a rage now. It was obvious that Reeve didn't love her, that he would never love her. She had thought that all she wanted was a house to call her own, but now she knew better. What was a house without someone to love waiting inside to make the lonesome blues go away?

Maybe he would turn her out into the street; maybe he would tear up her contract and send her away, but she couldn't stand to be ignored any longer.

She leaned close to his face. "Nobody made me, Reeve Lawrence, and don't you ever forget that."

She was so close he could see the sparks in the center of her eyes and the fine bead of perspiration along her upper lip.

"You're yelling, Belinda."

"You'd yell, too, if you only half knew how to drive and had gone off to Tunica so somebody would notice you, and then you got lost and nearly run over by two big trucks, to boot."

_"Nearly run over?"_ He grabbed her shoulders so fast she lost her balance and tumbled into his lap. Her head snapped back, and she caught at his chest for balance. There was a great tearing sound as his buttons popped loose and his shirt came open.

Both of them went very still, then ever so slowly she wound her hands into the crisp hairs that curled across his chest. He pulled her so close he nearly squeezed the breath from her.

She wound her arms around his neck thinking, _Lord, let me hang on to my sanity so I can remember all this._

"Oh, God, Belinda. I thought I had lost you." His lips claimed hers, and she felt hot and cold and happy and scared all at the same time.

But most of all, she felt as if she'd taken a long detour before she arrived at the place she'd been headed all along. Home. And if this was a taste of what was to come, having a home and a family to call her own was going to be even more remarkable than she'd imagined.

"Belinda?" Reeve smiled down at her. "I'm almost afraid to ask you this."

"Ask me what?"

"If you'll consent to stay here. Permanently."

Her hopes took a tumble. Still she managed to hop off his lap, put her hands on her hips and act like the queen of some small country.

"For your information, I don't make out with my boss. You can find yourself another nanny to maul, Reeve Lawrence. I quit."

The distance from the sofa to the door suddenly seemed a very long way off, and she wasn't feeling too steady. Still, she not only headed in that direction, but managed to march with her head held high.

Reeve made a sound that was halfway between a curse and growl. He pounded after her, caught her by the shoulders and whirled her around.

"You misunderstood me, Belinda."

"You're going to have to spell it out, Reeve. I don't do guessing games."

First he grinned, and then he laughed, and then, miraculously, he got down on his knees and took her hand.

"Belinda Stubaker, I love you. I think I've loved you since I saw you coming down the street wagging that heavy suitcase, and I want to go on loving you until the end of my days. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

She wished she had a recording of his proposal. She wished he'd say it again so she could be sure she heard every word exactly right. But the Dixie Virgins would tell her it was time to shut up and claim her victory.

"Belinda? Did you hear me? I want to marry you."

"I heard you, Reeve. My answer is YES!"

She reached for him, or maybe he reached for her. She was too excited to know how it all went, but the bottom line was, she ended up in his arms and he ended up racing up the stairs. Heady stuff, this love and marriage business.

It wasn't until he'd placed her on his bed and stood there removing his pants that she came off cloud nine.

"Reeve Lawrence, just what do you think you're doing?"

"Thank God, there's no longer any need for pretense." His shirt hit the floor, and then his jockey shorts.

"Put your clothes back on!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You can beg anything you like, but if you think I'm letting you pick my plums before the wedding, you've lost your mind." She sat up in the middle of his bed and rearranged her robe, which had gone more than a little askew in their hasty dash up the stairs. "I am not the kind of woman to walk down the aisle in a white wedding gown if the groom has already been to Virginia and back."

"Virginia?"

"Reeve Lawrence, are you laughing?"

"No, ma'am."

He put his hand over his mouth, but he couldn't hold back his laughter. It was a sound of pure delight, and so infectious Belinda found herself doubled over on the bed, laughing with him.

Suddenly, Reeve sat on the edge of the bed, buck naked and looking so good she almost forgot who she was.

"I can't believe my good fortune. All this, and a virgin, too." He picked her up then and headed toward the door. "Allow me to escort you back to your bed."

"I like this kind of escorting."

"Don't expect me to wear this suit to dinner."

# Chapter Twelve

Reeve had been waiting for a good thirty minutes when he heard her at the top of the staircase. There she was, his Belinda, poised like a queen. If he lived to be a hundred he would never get enough of seeing her.

She spotted him then gave him a smile and began to come down the stairs. She was a polished and elegant woman and yet she was still the same refreshing woman who had walked sideways down the street lugging her cardboard suitcase. Natural charm and beauty had always been hers.

He kept his eyes on hers until she was even with him, standing on the second step.

"I thought you would be gone to the office," she said.

"I've taken the day off, and Quincy has taken the children to visit Sunny's parents."

"After last night's excitement, I slept late." She blushed, "I thought since I had today off, you wouldn't mind."

"Belinda, all your days are now _days off._ " He took her hand. "I have a surprise for you."

"Will I like it?"

"You sound like Betsy." As he led her toward the front door he imagined his children's excitement when they learned their favorite nanny would soon be their mother.

"Have you told her and Mark?"

"We'll tell them together. But first, I have to apologize to you for making assumptions last night.

He handed her a small box, elaborately wrapped in pink stripped paper and tied with a pink and gold ribbon.

"I like the wrapping."

"I thought you might." She was still hanging on, admiring the bow. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Belinda removed the bow first, then set it on the hall table. Next she took off the paper, removing it with such care that there was only a little jagged tear where the tape had held it together.

Then she lifted the lid of box, held up the key chain and inspected it from all angles.

"Two keys?" Belinda gave him a perky smile "Well—that's lovely, Reeve. Thank you."

"Aren't you even going to ask what the keys fit?"

"Some people decorate with keys—hang them on the wall and all that."

"Come with me." Reeve pushed open the door, and there in front of the house was a bright red car, as square and sturdy as a box, but bright red, nonetheless. "For you, Belinda."

"You bought a car already this morning?"

"I have friends in high places. It's all yours."

"Boy, when you apologize, you really do it with style." She walked around the car, running her hands over the shiny paint, leaning down to admire the leather seats through the window.

"Do you like it?"

"It's the finest gift anybody ever gave me." She looked at the car one last time—with regret. Then she handed the keys to Reeve. "I can't take it."

"You can't take it?"

"Has your hearing done bad? That's what I said."

"If you don't like the color or the style, we can take it back right now and get something different."

"It's not that." Belinda bit her lips. "I was so scared driving to Tunica, I nearly passed out. I didn't drive over forty miles an hour the whole time."

She pressed the keys into his hand once more. "Thank you just the same, Reeve, but I've given up driving. I'm terrible at it."

Reeve smiled. "That's because you had the wrong teacher."

"Clemmie was very patient."

"From now on, I'll be your teacher."

"You're going to help me with driving?"

"Among other things." He opened the car door. "Climb aboard."

Teaching always brought out the best in Reeve. Belinda gave him a smart little salute and smiled.

"Are you ready for your first lesson, Belinda?"

"Carry on, Teach."

Reeve drove her into the country, stopping long enough to pick up some food for a picnic. They spent a glorious day together. Reeve was patient and kind and gentle. Under his guidance, Belinda lost her fear of the car.

By the time they headed home, she actually driving on the speed limit.

"Pull over at Burger King," he said.

"Shoot, I thought I was doing great."

"You are. I just want to drive so you'll have your hands free when we get home."

"For what, may I ask?"

"Because I have another surprise for you."

"With all these gifts, I'm beginning to feel like a visiting dignitary."

"What I want you to feel like is my fiancée."

When they got to Reeve's neighborhood, he reached for her hand.

"Close your eyes, now." The car slowed, then turned into the driveway and came to a stop. "Keep them shut."

He helped her from the car then led her onto the front porch.

"Now. Open wide."

Red geraniums were everywhere. Two huge urns flanked the doorway; hanging baskets swung from the porch railings, and pots of all sizes were banked around two enormous rocking chairs.

"Reeve!" Belinda ran around the porch, stopping to sniff a red bloom, pausing to admire a hanging basket, laughing and crying at the same time. When she was even with the rocking chairs, she faced him.

This is the most wonderful gift. How did you know?"

"I remembered out first conversation, but just to be certain, I called your friend Clemmie."

"This is the most wonderful surprise in the whole world. These pots of geraniums and these rockers tell me more about how you feel than..." She squeezed her hands together.

"Than the car, Belinda?"

"Yes. Than the car... and all the clothes and all the finery in the world. I've always wanted a little house to call my own with red geraniums on the front porch."

"Will a big house do as well?"

"It will do perfectly well."

Reeve sat down in one of the rockers and pulled her onto his lap.

"I've feel like I've been loving you since the beginning of time, Reeve. All these years I've been going from place to place, searching for a little house, sometimes even searching for a man to live in it with me. And all along, here you were."

"Just waiting for you, Belinda."

With the scent of geraniums sweet around them, Reeve set the rocking chair into motion and held her close.

"Reeve?" She lifted her head to look at him "I'm thinking of another lesson."

"A driving lesson?"

"No. Not that." She blushed. Reeve stilled the rocking chair. "About the other night. Do you think we might try that again on the honeymoon?"

"I can guarantee it, Belinda."

"I have to warn you. It may take a while to get the hang of it."

"Then we'll just have to practice till we get it right." He kissed her for such a long time, her face turned as rosy as the geraniums.

When she could finally get her breath, she said, "That's a nice start. Can we do it again?"

"I'm so glad I'm marrying a woman who knows the value of continuing education."

o0o

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Bea, Joanna, Molly

Re: Update

OMG, what's going on, sweetie? Did you confront him? What did he do? I can't even study for wondering!!!

Cat

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Bea, Molly, Catherine

Re: Pins and needles

WHAT'S HAPPENING!!! I'm DYING here!

Joanna

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Bea, Joanna, Cathrine

Re: Tell ME

Belinda, I'm so worried I called Daddy to see if you'd been reported dead in a car wreck.

Molly

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Clemmie, Bea, Joanna, Molly, Catheine

Re: Report for the Troops

Belinda, _dang,_ woman! What's going on? I told Janet and Clemmie I'd call the minute I hear. J's up to her eyeballs in exams and one of C's boarders fell and had to be taken off to the hospital. She's scared she's going to get _sued!_ I told her _not to worry._ Molly's dad knows some of the best lawyers in Tupelo. _Nobody_ is going to bleed her dry in a court of law if I have anything to say about it! And, as you know, I always have _plenty_ to say!

Bea

From: Belinda

To: Molly, Joanna, Bea, Clemmie, Catherine, Janet

Re: THE WEDDING

Reeve asked me to MARRY HIM!!!! You ought to see my ring. An eight carat solitaire! He gave me a car, too. But none of that meant as much to as the rocking chairs and the red geraniums he put on the front porch. All for me! I can't believe how lucky I am – a fabulous husband and two darling children! Betsy and Mark were so excited when we told them, they didn't go to bed till midnight!

I want both children in the wedding. I'd love to have all of you as bridesmaids but I know that's selfish of me, considering where you are and what you're doing.

I'm thinking of an early fall wedding, you know when the weather is cool and we can have it right here in the backyard. Clemmie, it was you who gave me the idea for an outdoor wedding. Reeve's yard is as big as a park, and it looks like the botanical gardens over in Huntsville.

The wedding's going to be discreet and small since it's the second one for Reeve. Just a close friends and family. I'm thinking September, but October might be better. What do you think?

Xoxo

Belinda

From: Joanna

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie, Molly

Re: Either one

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!! I'm jumping at the chance to leave these nuns, even if I will have to come back and finish out my education!! Name the date, Belinda! I'll be THERE!!!

BIG HUGS!

Joanna

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: Ditto

Ditto everything Joanna said, except about the nuns! Oh, I can even bring the bridesmaids' dresses from Paris! Just tell me the sizes and color! OMG, this is so much FUN!!! Daddy's going to be tickled pink I'm coming home for a visit.

Hugs,

Molly

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Janet, Molly, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: OVER THE TOP

What do you mean, keep the wedding discreet? It's YOUR wedding, too! You can have peacocks strutting around the yard if you want. OMG, I just had a wonderful idea! Love birds! I'll bring some from New Orleans. You can find just about anything you want down here. Oh, and I love the idea of bridesmaids' dresses from Paris. Let me pick out the shoes. I saw the CUTEST ones last week in the French Quarter!

XOXO

Cat

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Catherine, Molly, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: The Exams

I got through the exams, _thank God!_ And this is _wonderful news_! A fall wedding will be perfect. Are you ready for my news? I'm coming to Tupelo _this fall_ to start my internship!!!

Xo

Janet

From: Molly

To: Janet, Belinda, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna

Re: Tupelo

YAY, JANET! Call Daddy and ask him for the best place to stay! Oh, I'll be SO GLAD to have you in Tupelo. He's still doing Match.com, and if he actually finds a woman, you'll be there to check her out!

Molly

From: Clemmie

To: Janet, Belinda, Catherine, Bea, Molly, Joanna

Re: Good news

I'm having a double celebration. Belinda's getting married and I'm not getting sued. I want to make the wedding cake! And Bea, don't you go telling me it's too much trouble. I'm putting two brothers through college and running this place single-handedly. If I wanted to, I could march Hannibal's elephants across the Alps!

Belinda, Cat's right about having the kind of wedding you want. Why don't you have one of those cute little horse-drawn carriages to ride off in? I'll bet Quincy's brother could find one.

Hugs,

Clemmie

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna

Re: Hallelujah!

That _big scream_ was me, out here in Texas shouting hallelujah! Bring on the Parisian gowns and the New Orleans shoes. For the wedding I'll _ditch my boots!_ And _listen here, my lady!_ You have the kind of wedding _you_ want. It you want a Texas roundup, I'll get a whip and herd the cattle!

Who are the groomsmen? Will there be any _hot guys?_ Does Reeve have a brother? The guys at the advertising firm are either married or jerks. At the rate I'm going, the only action my Virginia is likely to see is at the gynecologist's.

Still, Belinda, your success story gives the rest of us hope.

That's one down for the Dixie Virgins and six to go! Yee Haw!

Hugs,

Bea

_-_ The End-

News Flash, May, 2015

**For a limited time only** , 5 of the 7 romantic comedies in The Dixie Virgin Chronicles are **on sale**! A "Reader Favorite" series!

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Belinda (Book One)

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Janet (Book Two)

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Molly (Book Three)

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Bea (Book Four)

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Clementine (Book Five)

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Joanna (Book Six)

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Catherine (Book Seven)

_Don't miss Peggy's latest women's fiction novel,_ Stars to Lead Me Home: Love and Marriage _!_ _Reviewers call it the_ **"Must Read book of 2015!** " _More details are at_ www.peggywebb.com _._

_If you enjoyed the Dixie Virgin romantic comedies, you'll enjoy Peggy's hilarious_ _Southern Cousins Mystery series._ _Grab her latest,_ Elvis and the Buried Brides w/bonus short story _(2015._ _All the Elvis books contain recipes from Lovie's Kitchen._

**Coming this summer ( 2015) –** Magnolia Wild (Magnolia Wild Mystery & Romance, Book 1) **. "The perfect blend of romance, mystery and comedy for the perfect day at the beach."**

# The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Janet (Book Two) Excerpt

## Prologue

From: Janet (Janet@aol.com)

To: Belinda, Clemmie, Joanna, Molly, Catherine, Bea

Re: Belinda's Wedding

I'm still pinching myself that I got to see _every one of you_ at the wedding! Belinda, I've never seen a happier bride! I'll admit I was skeptical when Cat said she was bringing love birds from New Orleans. I could picture bird shit everywhere. But it was _amazing_ when you kissed your new husband and all those white doves went fluttering into the air! By the way, I _totally approve_ your Reeve Lawrence. He's intelligent, cultured, successful and _mad about you!_

Oh, I _miss_ all of you! But I'm really looking forward to my internship. All my books are unpacked and I'm settled into my new apartment, thanks to your dad, Molly. I could never have found this gem of place without Mr. Rakestraw. I love being downtown so I can walk to the library and the post office. There's a school nearby where I can run on the track. And there's even a darling little mutt who comes by to visit on weekends. I call him Harvey. Life just couldn't be more _perfect!_

Xo

Janet

From: Molly (molly@hotmail.com)

To: Janet, Belinda, Catherine, Clemmie, Joanna, Bea

Re: From Paris with love

OMG, Janet, I'm so glad you're in Tupelo now and in the same apartment as Daddy! How cool is that! He'll be a surrogate father to you, but I want you to keep an eye on him, too. I think he's found somebody on Match.com, but he's not saying. I'm ABOUT TO DIE!!! By the way, Mr. Rakestraw is far too formal for Daddy. Call him Mr. Jed. He'll love that.

It was totally awesome to see all of you! I thought we looked incredible in the Parisian bridesmaids' dresses, and that gorgeous shade of sky blue I found looked fabulous on all of us! Of course, Belinda, you were the shining star in that bridal gown that looked like something out of a fairy tale. Do have the best honeymoon ever!!! And if you have time to join me for lunch before you leave Paris, that would be so much fun!

Much love,

Molly

From: Joanna (joanna@hotmail.com)

To: Janet, Molly, Bea, Clemmie, Catherine, Belinda

Re: Those SHOES!

Cat, those SHOES were to die for!!! Where did you ever find them? Now that I'm back, I wear then everywhere. The nuns here at the Santa Maria Magdalena Colegio y Conservatorio de Arte y Musica are about to have heart failure. They tell me silver shoes with four inch heels and rhinestone buckles are INAPPROPRIATE. Hello? I'd DIE before turning myself into somebody APPROPRIATE!!!!

Oh, Belinda, I LOVED your wedding. Reeve is DELICIOUS LOOKING. Enjoy every minute of your honeymoon. Your Virginia is going to be SO happy! I'm dying to ask about the salacious details, but even I won't go that far.

The only fly in the ointment was that I didn't get to see Kirk. Wouldn't you know my guardian would have business in Europe while I was in America! I hope he's not turning into some OLD guy while I'm slaving over my books here in Madrid. LOL

Big Hugs!!!

Joanna

From: Clemmie (Clementine@yahoo.com)

To: Molly, Joanna, Janet, Belinda, Bea, Catherine

Re: Still Smiling

Every time I look at my pretty bridesmaid dress hanging in the closet, I smile. If I could bottle our laughter and stories and sell them for a buck a pop, I'd have enough money to pay off the mortgage on my little boarding house. Gracious, I still laugh out loud about Joanna's escapade with the bullfighter. I can just picture the look of shock on his face when he scaled up the espalier, landed in the wrong room, and Sister Mary Margaret dumped dish water all over his suit of lights! I don't hear stories like that at Peppertown. Mostly I hear from my dear boarder, Miss Josephine, about her latest fantasy of her dead lover. Still, she does spice things up a bit.

Janet, it's fun that you're close enough to visit now. I hope you'll take a break from the hospital so we can have a gab session! And when Belinda gets back from her honeymoon in Paris, I'll cook lunch for the three of us!

Hugs,

Clemmie

From: Catherine (Catherine@yahoo.com)

To: Janet, Molly, Joanna, Belinda, Bea, Clemmie

Re: Heaven

OMG, when I came up for the wedding, I felt as if I'd left Hell and landed in Heaven! Not that I'm complaining. I totally LOVE vet school, but it was great to ditch my sneakers and put on high heels. It was even more fun to forget about the gestation period of elephants and watch Bea flirting with that cute groomsman. What was his name? Joe something or other. He's not my type, but he did have some obvious charms. Those muscles! LOL.

Belinda, sweetie, now that you're the ONLY one of us married, I guess I'll have to stop calling you a Dixie Virgin. How FABULOUS is that!

XOXO

Catherine

From: Belinda (belinda@yahoo.com)

To: Catherine, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna

Re: Paris!

You sure can, Cat! And I'm not saying another word!!!!

Xoxox

Belinda (Mrs. Reeve Lawrence! Can you believe it!)

From: Bea (bea@bellsouth.net)

To: Belinda, Catherine, Janet, Clemmie, Molly, Joanna

Re: Dixie Virgins

Listen, Belinda will _always_ be a Dixie Virgin! It's more about being an _independent woman_ than what happens to your Virginia. Though I do hope Belinda's Virginia is now _shouting hallelujah._ Matter of fact, I think I heard it all the way from Paris to Dallas! Yee Haw!!!!

Hugs,

Bea

## Chapter One

Harvey was missing. He hadn't come home for the past two weekends, and Janet was getting worried. As she parked her car in front of her apartment, she decided she'd have to do something about him. Soon. But first she had to soak her feet. It had been a long day at the hospital.

A light rain was falling, and when she got out of the car she pulled her coat close against the chill.

"Is that you, Janet?"

Molly's dad, who was her next-door neighbor, always greeted her that way. Because of the little chill in the air, only his head stuck out his front door.

She smiled at him. "It's me, Mr. Jed. How have you been today?"

"Excellent, my dear!" Mr. Jed inched farther out his door as Janet started up her sidewalk. In his corduroy pants and a sweater with leather elbow patches he looked like a comfortable version of George Clooney. "I've made hot chocolate. Want some?"

"That sounds good. Your place or mine?"

"I'll bring it over there so you relax. You're working too hard. Molly will never forgive me if I let you collapse from exhaustion."

Mr. Jed vanished back into his apartment. Two things Janet loved most about her first floor apartment were Molly's dad and her little postage stamp patio/yard. Mr. Jed had a joyful spirit that gave her a lift after dealing with sick children all day, and her yard was so small that it never accused her of neglect by looking naked without all the petunias, zinnias, forsythia and whatever else ordinary, sane adults in Tupelo planted in their flower beds.

Janet fitted the key into her lock and pushed open her front door. The fragrance of peach potpourri greeted her. She stood a moment, inhaling the sweet scent and enjoying the peace; then she hung her coat on the hall tree and led Mr. Jed into her living room. It was small but comfortable, with plenty of bookshelves for Janet's medical books and enough room left over for her second-hand sofa and a fat, cushy chair she'd found at the flea market. The only touch of class was a Ming vase, which her parents had insisted on giving her as a housewarming gift, though she'd argued a temporary apartment was not a new house.

"Awful quiet in your house," Mr. Jed remarked as he sat down in a chair and placed the tray of hot chocolate over a scruff mark on the yard sale coffee table.

"It is. Especially since Harvey's not here. Have you seen him lately?"

"That big stray mutt that comes over here every weekend?"

"Yes. I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks."

"Probably courting. That's what everybody else is doing these days—everybody except you."

Janet waved her hand in airy dismissal. "I'm a career woman, Mr. Jed. You and Harvey are enough for me."

It was true: she was satisfied with her career. Not that she didn't like children. On the contrary, she loved them. That's why she had chosen pediatrics. But her internship demanded so much physical and emotional energy she didn't have enough left over for a serious relationship.

She sipped chocolate and enjoyed a neighborly chat. By the time she stood at the front door waving goodbye to Mr. Jed, it was dark and the wind had picked up speed. She felt a rain storm in the air and thought of Harvey, out there on the streets somewhere, cold and friendless and hungry.

"Harvey," she called into the darkness. No friendly dog face appeared. No wagging tail thumped her front door, and no big pink tongue licked her hand. She couldn't imagine spending another Friday evening without Harvey.

She ducked inside her apartment, bundled into her raincoat and went back out to the car.

Her apartment was on the corner of Jefferson and Madison, directly across from the library. She took the Madison Street exit, turned the corner at Jefferson and cruised slowly down the street, looking right and left for the mutt who was part golden retriever, part mournful hound dog, and all heart. At the First Baptist Church she turned north on Church Street toward the elementary school. Harvey liked children. He could be on the playground, waiting for a group of Girl Scouts or watching a late soccer practice. Though why anybody would be practicing in this weather, she couldn't imagine.

The rain came down in earnest as she drove slowly along. She passed a large man wrapped in a heavy raincoat and carrying a big black umbrella. He looked sinister on the dark, lonely street. Not many people walked the streets in weather like this. She started to pass him, then changed her mind. Obviously she was overworked to be thinking of one of her fellow citizens as sinister. Tupelo was the friendliest town she knew, and besides the man might have seen Harvey. Feeling a little bit foolish, she backed up and lowered her window.

"Excuse me," she called.

The man jerked up his head, as if she had startled him. There was nothing sinister about his blue eyes. Or his face. Under the streetlights it looked as open and friendly as a dance club on ladies' night.

"Yes?"

The voice was nice, too. Rich and crisp, like dark red apples.

"I'm looking for my dog—Harvey. Have you seen a large tan dog?"

The big man ambled slowly toward her car. He didn't walk or stroll; he ambled, as if the sky were pouring sunbeams on his head instead of raindrops—as if he had nothing but time on his hands.

"That's a funny coincidence. I'm looking for a dog myself. George. A big, shaggy mutt with reddish hair and a tail that wags all the time." The man was beside her car now, and he leaned into her window. "I don't suppose you've seen him?"

His smile was sincere and a little crooked. She smiled back.

"No. I'm afraid not. Sorry I can't help you."

"Me, too." He patted the car door almost absently and looked as if he were going to say something else; then he backed away. "Good luck."

"You, too."

As she drove off, she glanced in her rearview mirror. He was still standing there, not quite on the sidewalk but not quite in the street, either, the big umbrella dangling by his side, raindrops pouring over his head. His wet hair made a dark cap of curls around his face.

She was at the end of the block before she realized she hadn't even glanced in the direction of the school. Harvey could have been standing on his hind legs saluting the flag in the front yard for all the attention she'd been paying.

She rounded the corner, scanning the thick hedges that bordered the football field. A block down the street she parked her car. The only way she could possibly find her dog in the dark was to make a thorough search of the campus on foot with her flashlight. She decided to start with the football field.

o0o

After the woman drove off, it took Dan Albany two minutes to snap out of whatever spell he was in. He'd thought himself acquainted with every good-looking woman in Tupelo, but somehow he'd missed that auburn-haired beauty in the aging red Corvette. And she liked dogs. That was a plus. If she also liked cream-filled cupcakes, greasy hamburgers, soggy fries, kids and soccer games in the rain, she'd be just about perfect. But he hadn't even asked her name.

Shaking his head to clear it, he sent raindrops flying. With a sigh, he lifted his umbrella and continued down the street in search of his dog. He even laughed aloud at his foolish fancies.

"Well, Coach," he said in that jocular way he had of addressing himself when he felt he needed a good talking to, "it's just as well. Classy looking ladies driving Corvettes aren't usually the old-fashioned type who enjoy life on a shoestring budget."

Not that he was looking, anyhow. Life had a wonderful way of just happening, and he figured one day his sweet, old- fashioned dream woman would waltz into his life. Though why it hadn't happened in thirty years, he couldn't say. Maybe he should be looking.

But first, he had to find George.

He made a quick tour around the school building; then he walked down the hill toward the football field. The hedges would be a good hiding place for a dog, especially if he'd been hurt and was seeking shelter from the rain.

He had almost reached the stadium gates when he heard the whimper.

"George," he shouted. "Is that you?"

The dog whimpered again. It was unmistakably the sound of the shaggy red stray who had shown up on his doorstep six weeks ago and become his part-time dog.

Bending low and training his flashlight into the dark, he spotted George on the other side of the fence, huddled in a thick patch of shrubbery.

"Stay there, George. I'm coming."

He sprinted toward the padlocked gates and was halfway over the fence before he saw her—the woman from the Corvette. She was racing across the football field, her green coat unbuttoned and flapping behind her.

"Hey," he yelled.

Without breaking stride, she glanced in his direction. "I think I've found Harvey," she called. "I heard him over there." She continued running toward the bushes where Dan had spotted George.

He heard his raincoat rip as he jumped down onto the football field. Small matter. He'd patch it. What really bothered him was the disappointment that gorgeous woman would feel when she discovered she'd found the wrong dog.

He caught up with her just as she'd reached the dog.

"Oh, Harvey. You poor thing." Oblivious of the mud, she knelt beside the big dog and cradled his head.

"George." Squatting beside them, Dan addressed his dog. George acknowledged his master with a faint wag of the tail.

The woman looked up at him. "Did you say George?"

"Yes. That's my dog."

"This is not George. This is Harvey—my dog—and he looks like he's hurt." She pushed the bushes aside and bent closer to the dog. "Would you mind moving back a bit, so I can see him better?"

"If you'll step back, I'll get him out." He broke some of the larger branches that were trapping his dog.

The woman jerked her head up and looked him straight in the eye. "I'm a doctor. I know how to move him."

A doctor, he thought. And a bad-tempered one at that. Her big brown eyes were fairly sparkling with feeling. And he'd bet she'd never sat on a bleacher in the rain in her entire life. She was probably the symphony type.

"Allow me to help you, Doctor." He spoke with elaborate politeness that bordered on sarcasm. Fifteen minutes from now he knew he'd regret it, but he forgave himself. The death of a dream was always hard. Although it had been only a fleeting dream, he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed and somewhat cheated. She was so lovely to look at.

She smelled good, too. Even in the mud and rain, he caught the faint scent of jasmine in her hair.

They worked together for several minutes to free the big dog. When they had him out of the bushes, the doctor bent over him.

"He's weak... probably from hunger, as well as loss of blood." She continued her cursory examination of the dog. "Everything seems to be okay except the back leg."

Dan could see the dog's right hind leg was a crushed mass of bloody flesh and exposed bone.

"You're a veterinarian?"

"No. A pediatrician. An intern, actually, but I can patch him up until tomorrow morning. Then I'll take him to a vet."

_" We'll_ take him to a vet," Dan countered. "It appears that George has two masters."

"Harvey." Her eyes were alight again, but this time with humor.

"Stubborn, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"My house is just up the block—the big white one with all the gingerbread trim," he said. "I'll take What's-his-name up there, and you can follow in your car."

"It's raining. We'll all go in my car. My medical bag's in it."

"You'd put a wet, muddy dog in your Corvette?"

"He's not a wet, muddy dog. He's Harvey, and I love him."

Dan took in her tumbled auburn hair, her brown eyes bright with compassion. "You're not half bad, Doc," he said as he bent and carefully lifted the big dog.

"Watch his leg," she said.

Dan laughed. "Just a little bossy."

"You're not so bad yourself. Just a little—" pausing, she surveyed him from head to toe "—big."

They started across the football field toward her car.

"Dan Albany."

"Janet Hall."

"I don't know how you got over this fence, Janet."

"I climbed, just like you."

He thought that must have been a sight to see, but he didn't say so. Dr. Janet Hall was wearing high-heeled pumps and a dress under her raincoat.

By the time they reached the fence, the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

"It's going to be tricky getting across holding this dog," he said.

"Can you lift him over if I go first?"

Dan judged the height of the fence. "I think so, but can you hold him? He's a big dog."

"Yes." She stuck her flashlight into her pocket and smiled at him. "Have you any idea how strong a sixty-five pound child who doesn't want a shot can be? Subduing them long enough for an injection builds strength, if nothing else."

"Regular little tigers, are they?"

"Absolutely."

With her coat providing cover, she hiked her dress up matter-of-factly and found a toehold in the chain links. A hefty breeze caught her coat and billowed it back from her body. Her legs were long and slim and lovely. As she climbed, Dan caught an intoxicating glimpse of lingerie. The doctor wore black lace under her tailored dress.

Half-embarrassed for enjoying the view so much, he turned his head away and tried to take an interest in the trees. But they were just trees. Janet, on the other hand...

He swung his gaze back to her. She was perched astride the fence, her dress hem caught in the chain links.

"I seem to be stuck." Her laugh was breezy and completely unselfconscious. "If I let go to free myself, I'll lose my balance."

"Maybe I can help." He lowered George onto the grass and reached up. His hand brushed leg. "Sorry."

"No problem." She'd lied, Janet thought, as Dan caught hold of her hem and tried to work it free of the fence. The problem was that she was sitting on a fence in the rain with her dress hiked up to her hips and a strange, disturbingly appealing man touching her leg. And she liked it. Ordinarily she would never be caught in such an unladylike fix. But here she was, the most proper of the Dixie Virgins, soaking wet, displaying her legs like a Las Vegas showgirl and loving every minute of it.

o0o

About Peggy Webb

Peggy Webb is a USA Today best-selling author from Mississippi with more than 75 books to her credit. She writes romance, women's fiction and the hilarious Southern Cousins cozy mystery series starring Elvis, the basset hound who thinks he's the King of Rock 'n' Roll reincarnated. Her peers call her a "comic genius." She also writes literary fiction and is a member of PEN under the name **Elaine Hussey**. Pat Conroy calls her literary work "astonishing." This critically acclaimed author has won many awards, including a Romantic Times Pioneer Award for creating the sub-genre of romantic comedy. Several of her romances have been optioned for film.

Peggy is a member of Novelists, Inc., International Thriller Writers, and Romance Writers of America. Her award-winning books, Touched by Angels, A Prince for Jenny, the Donovans of the Delta series and her boxed sets have all been Kindle Top 10 bestsellers. Follow the author on her websites: www.peggywebb.com and www.elainehussey.com and on Facebook and Twitter.

Books by Peggy Webb

Classic Romance

Dark Fire

Touched by Angels (RT Reviewer's Choice)

A Prince for Jenny, sequel to Touched by Angels

The Edge of Paradise

Duplicity (Rave review, RT Reviewer's Choice)

Where Dolphins Go (RT Reviewer's Choice, women's fiction, optioned for film)

Night of the Dragon (time travel romance)

Christmas in Time (time travel, prequel to Only Yesterday)

Only Yesterday, (time travel, sequel to Christmas in Time)

Summer Jazz

Taming Maggie (#1 on romance bestseller list)

That Jones Girl (sequel to the Mississippi McGills series)

Indiscreet

The Donovans of the Delta Series:

Donovan's Angel (Paul Donovan's story)

Sleepless Nights (Tanner Donovan's story)

Hallie's Destiny (award winning book, Hallie Donovan's story)

Any Thursday (Hannah Donovan's story)

Higher Than Eagles (Jacob Donovan's story)

The Mississippi McGills Series (spin-off from Donovans of the Delta)

Valley of Fire (Rick McGill's story)

Until Morning Comes (Jo Beth McGill and Colter Gray Wolf's story)

Saturday Mornings (Andrew McGill's story)

Forever Friends series

Can't Stop Loving You (Book 1, Helen's story)

Only His Touch (Kat's story, Book 2)

Bringing Up Baxter (B. J.'s story, Book 3)

Angels on Zebras (Maxie's story, Book 4)

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Belinda

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Janet

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Molly

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Bea

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Clementine

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Joanna

The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Catherine

Sunday Cove Series

Naughty and Nice

Birds of a Feather

Disturbing the Peace

....5 more to come

Romantic Suspense

Witch Dance

From A Distance

Boxed Sets

Donovans of the Delta

Forever Friends, Finally Brides

Finding Mr. Perfect

Finding Paradise

Time's Embrace

Warrior's Embrace

When I Found You

Southern Cousins Mysteries

_Elvis and the Dearly Departed_ , 2008

_Elvis and the Grateful Dead_ , 2009

_Elvis and the Memphis Mambo Murders_ , 2010

_Elvis and the Tropical Double Trouble_ , 2011

_Elvis and the Blue Christmas Corpse_ , 2012

Jack Loves Callie Tender (series prequel and companion guide), 2013

Elvis and the Bridegroom Stiffs, 2014

Elvis and the Deadly Love Letters, a short story, 2014

Elvis and the Buried Brides, 2014, 2015

Women's Fiction/Literary Fiction

Stars to Lead Me Home: Love and Marriage, June, 2015

Her Secret Hero, March, 2014

_The Language of Silence_ (Gallery, Simon & Schuster), July 30, 2014

_The Tender Mercy of Roses_ (Gallery, Simon & Schuster), written as Anna Michaels

_The Sweetest Hallelujah_ (MIRA), written as Elaine Hussey, July 30, 2013

_The Oleander Sisters_ (MIRA), written as Elaine Hussey, July 30, 2014

