 
Breath of Love

Alea Rose
Copyright 2015 Alea Rose, Smashwords Edition. All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or paper print, without written permission from Alea Rose.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 1

He knew what the guys at the gym would have to say about it. You signed up for yoga to bone the limber instructor. They argued, speculated, imagined and probably fabricated what the so-called Ice Queen would be like in bed. He'd heard all of the crude comments made about her specifically, and women in general from these Neanderthals.

The truth was, if Dillon Holbrook put his mind to seducing a woman, that was exactly what happened. She would melt in his arms after a brief temptation, have lurid sex with him and evaporate into the mystical cloud of feminine hormones that shrouded his world.

This time, they'd be wrong — if they found out he was going to one of her classes. Dillon had no burning desire for the tall, willowy yoga instructor Andrea Witt, no matter the lurid speculation he'd heard about her at the gym. The class was a gift from his sister Kelly, who called and nagged every day after Christmas to see if he'd started the beginner's course yet. Mid June, he finally succumbed to her domineering methods — if only to achieve respite from the constant badgering.

"I'm telling you, Dilly, this is exactly what you need."

He wasn't in poor physical condition by any stretch of the imagination. On the contrary, women flocked to Dillon every time he stepped in the door anywhere. At six-four, he stood taller than the average guy in Denver (maybe the altitude had stunted men's growth, particularly the natives of the Mile High City). Silicone gym babes buzzed around him like gnats to ripe fruit. At first it was great fun. What guy wouldn't love all that attention from a bevy of beauties?

Kelly knew better. His twin sister sensed the loneliness deep inside him, the longing for something that wasn't based on physical appearance and temporary sexual chemistry. "You want to talk first, Dilly. I know you. I'm not one of your work-out buddies you let assume you're like they are. Remember?"

When he showed up to the gym and slid the gift voucher across the desk, Heather's eyes practically bugged out of her head. "Seriously?" She snapped her sugar-free gum and grinned. "Dillon, we can get a substitution — something you'd enjoy. I don't think this is the right class for you."

"Can you get a substitute sister for me too while you're at it?" It wasn't his custom to growl at pretty girls, but six months of nagging from Kelly had left him determined to see this thing through if it killed him. "Look, I already called and found out that today is the first for this specific class — whatever it is — and made sure that there was space for me to take it."

"Your sister gave this to you?" Heather burst out laughing.

"I fail to see the humor."

"Yet," she choked back another burst of giggles. "It's in the yoga center — third door down the hallway to the left. The instructor is Andrea, but I doubt you know her."

"Seen her around," he grumbled. "I just want to get this over with so Kelly will stop nagging me to use the gift certificate."

Heather's eyes twinkled, and her body vibrated with an unspoken message that promised a workout of a different kind. "If you change your mind after the first class, let me know. We can make arrangements for something more suited to your tastes, Dillon."

He pondered that thought, feeling a little insulted while he made his way to the appointed room. Was he another big, dumb, clumsy jock? Was that what the women around here thought of him? True, he was a body-builder by definition, especially at the gym. To Dillon's way of seeing it, there wasn't much other reason to work out in a gym beyond use of expensive equipment he neither had the space to own nor the money to afford. So what if his biceps bulged and his abs were rock hard. It didn't mean his brain had atrophied or that steroids had given him his bulk. And it certainly didn't mean he had no grace or balance. A guy could kill himself lifting if he had no balance.

Dillon pushed the third door open to a room with a dozen couples making polite introductions. He spotted Andrea immediately. She didn't socialize with any of the other employees at the gym, from what he'd heard, and had quite the reputation as an uppity bitch. His eyes roved over her almost anorexic thin body — hardly any breasts, a slight curve to the butt, and long willowy arms and legs. Her hair was anybody's guess, always pulled tightly into a severe bun at the nape of her neck.

"I thought yoga was supposed to help people find their inner happiness," he quoted his sister half under his breath when Andrea glanced at him with an bland expression. She probably figured that he was in the wrong class too, based on the physiques of her other students.

She forced a smile and walked toward him. Andrea extended one hand. "Dillon?"

"Yeah."

"I'm Andrea. Your sister has been telling me all month that you'd be in class this time. Do you have a partner with you?"

"A what?" Dillon felt the muscles in his face pull inward.

"A partner. This is a beginner's course for tantra, Dillon."

"Yeah, and Kelly said it's some kind of yoga thing."

The smile was genuine this time, if not a little shy. Andrea looked at the floor and blushed. "It's an introduction to sacred sex, Dillon, or sexual spirituality."

"So these people are here for an...orgy?" His dark blond eyebrows knit together. "Why the hell would Kelly send me to something like this?"

"No, it's not like that at all. I assumed you and your partner wanted to take your relationship to a deeper level when she told me she gave you the gift certificate for the course."

Dillon snorted. "I haven't been in a relationship that lasted more than two weeks since junior high school." He took two steps backward toward the door. "If I need a partner to do this, Kelly damn well should've told me."

"You're welcome to stay. Sexual divinity starts with the individual, Dillon."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before, and been through all the self-love a guy could ever want, thank you very much. I'll pass."

"I didn't mean it that way. People aren't really going to have intercourse in class, Dillon. It's about learning to be in touch with yourself and your partner without actually performing the physical act of sex. We learn to breathe and —"

"If I didn't know how to breathe, I think I'd be dead. Sorry, and no offense, but this doesn't sound like something that I'd enjoy."

"Why not? Don't you get tired of never connecting to anyone on a deeper level?"

Dillon cupped his dark blond goatee in one hand. "And this breathing stuff helps a person do that?"

"It can if you have a partner with an open mind."

He shook his head again and retreated three more steps for the door. "I don't have one of those, so as you pointed out, most of this class won't apply to me."

Andrea matched his step. "Then think of this as a practice run for the day when you do meet someone you'd like to have a deep and spiritual connection with, Dillon. There are hundreds of benefits to tantra that have nothing to do with romantic intimacy. I wish you'd stay — at least for the first class. You can take it one session at a time, and after you've gone through some of it, if you genuinely see no benefit, I'll tell Kelly that you gave it your best shot."

He knew he looked at least as wary as he felt, but let her coax him back into the classroom. "I feel like an idiot — the only guy who came stag to the sex class."

Andrea slipped her hand into his and tugged him toward the front of the room. "Then I'll be your partner," she said. "It's easier for me to teach the class anyway, if my students can see the activities rather than have me merely posing them and coaching."

He stiffened and dragged his feet.

"I promise — nothing sexual in the way you imagine will happen. Have you ever had a massage?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, this is sort of like that, only you won't be naked, and the touching isn't...well, it's intimate but not in that way. Trust me?"

"Apparently Kelly trusts you."

"Don't be upset with her. I've known her for a long time."

"So I'm learning," Dillon interrupted her again with a stern stare. "Just know that I'm outta here if one word you've said is a lie."

"I wouldn't do that," she said.

"And there had better be no discussion at the water cooler with the other employees around here," he warned. "I'm already getting hell from a gossip for being in a yoga class as it is. I don't need everybody finding out that this is really sex therapy."

He allowed her to lead him — stiff and unyielding — to the front of the class. Andrea motioned for him to sit on a mat at the end of the first row. "Tonight is mostly discussion of what people expect from the class, Dillon. We'll cover the basics of what tantra means, and what we'll learn over the next two weeks. Okay?"

He nodded.

"When I need you to come up to the front of the class — which won't be tonight — I'll talk to you in advance so you know what to expect."

He relaxed a little bit, started paying attention to the comfort level of the other participants in the class. Every man looked as nervous and ready to bolt as he did. Gotta hand it to this Andrea chick. This is gonna be a tough crowd.

Dillon sat on the mat and tucked his knees to his chest and let his eyes rove over the group. Quite a few left hands sported rings of gold on fingers. They were farther along than he was in the relationship game. He wondered why married people would feel the need to be in a class like this. Hadn't Andrea talked about connecting on a deeper level with a partner? How much deeper could the connection go than marriage? They had to be leaps and bounds ahead of him if they got that far.

Andrea's voice drifted through the room. She introduced herself and identified the class as Introduction to Tantric Sex. A few of the men squirmed. Okay, so maybe they weren't more emotionally evolved than he was. He doubted that any of them were tricked into coming to a class under the guise of yoga.

"Tantra is a word derived from Sanskrit," Andrea said. "It simply means expansion through awareness, and in this class, that awareness is our sexual consciousness. It does not mean that we are going to be engaging in sexual acts in class. What you will hopefully learn through the next two weeks is how breathing, sound, symbols and movement can calm the mind, filter out distractions and help you tap into sexual energy that all human beings possess. Our goal is intimacy outside and beyond the physical act of sexual activity."

Dillon harrumphed in his head. That didn't sound so bad, but he still had a strong urge to march over to Kelly's house after class and wring her scrawny little neck.

Andrea explained yin and yang, the masculine and feminine forces present in all living things. "Gentlemen, be honest. Do you believe that real men have any feminine qualities?"

Snickers abounded. Dillon schooled his expression. She turned to him. "Dillon?"

"What?"

"What's your opinion on masculine and feminine traits in yourself and other men?"

One shoulder rolled upward. "I guess I don't spend a whole lot of time thinking about it."

"Exactly. Men are conditioned not to think about whether or not they have a sensitive — or more feminine — aspect to their personalities. As a result, many men end up denying part of who they are. Dillon, does your body make estrogen?"

He chuckled. "Uh... gonna have to go with no on that one."

"Wrong," she said with a sly smile. "Men produce a small amount of estrogen, just like women produce a small amount of testosterone. The predominant hormones in the male and female bodies are responsible for sexual maturation and physical characteristics — like Dillon's muscle mass versus mine. Which one of us do you think is physically stronger?"

The question elicited outright guffaws from many participants in the class.

"I take it you think Dillon has greater physical strength than I do."

"Hell yeah," one of the mushier men piped up. "The guy is stronger than ten of us combined."

His chest puffed out in a bit of male pride. Damn straight he was strong. Dillon spent hours every week building his muscle mass.

Andrea smiled slyly and crooked her finger at Dillon. "Let's do a little yoga."

"That's hardly fair. It would be like me asking you to bench press three-hundred pounds cold."

"Can you do a push-up?"

Dillon chuckled. "With one arm tied behind my back."

"This is just a variation on that pose." Andrea dropped to the mat and demonstrated the four-limbed staff pose. "Got it?"

"Uh... sure," he said.

"Here's the trick. You need to keep your elbows tucked in close to your body, maintain a straight spine, up on your toes, with your elbows bent at forty-five degrees. You're not going to do push-ups, just hold in a half push-up position."

"I can manage."

"And we'll see who can hold that position for the longest period of time."

Dillon grinned acceptance of the challenge.

"Who's got a watch with a second hand?" Andrea asked.

A man who identified himself as Rob volunteered.

"Ready?"

Dillon nodded. "Don't be upset if I can hold this pose longer than you. I'm very strong."

"You need to take your shoes off," Andrea said.

"What? Why?"

"Because that's how the pose works. Up on your toes...just like I showed you."

"All right."

They got down on the floor, head to head in the four-limbed staff position. Andrea continued to talk about the differences between males and females as though she wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. After about thirty seconds, Dillon's muscles started to burn. At fifty seconds, beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. By sixty seconds, he was gritting his teeth. Andrea kept talking about hormones, not a speck of exertion in her tone.

At one-fifteen, Dillon groaned and collapsed on the floor.

"Damn," Rob muttered.

"Strength is more than muscle mass," Andrea said. She gracefully moved out of the position and offered her hand to Dillon. "But to be fair, if Dillon took me out to the bench press, he'd make me look weak as a kitten." Her voice softened. "You okay?"

He grinned. "Yeah, I'm good."

"We use different muscles for different types of strength. Estrogen doesn't make me more proficient in yoga, practice does. Tantra makes us more proficient in the spiritual aspects of sexuality. In order to successfully achieve that expanded awareness of our sexuality, all of us need to start embracing the fact that we possess both aspects of femininity and masculinity within ourselves as individuals. Can anyone think of an example of how your masculine side for the ladies or your feminine side for gentlemen manifests?"

Joe raised his hand. "I freely admit it — I'm a cuddler."

His wife laughed. "And I'm not."

"What else?" Andrea's eyes skittered in Dillon's direction.

"I let my sister walk all over me, apparently," he said. "Does that count as a feminine trait?"

"Definitely not," she grinned at him. "That's preserving your sanity. I know your sister, and she's relentless."

"Then I guess I'll have to think about it. Nothing comes immediately to mind."

"In your past relationships, or in your current ones does your wife or girlfriend ever take the initiative in lovemaking?"

Dillon stared at his untied shoelaces. Not once. Ever. He wasn't sure he'd ever experienced anything tender in bed. Sex? Sure. Lovemaking? Not with the predators he seemed to attract.

"If not, did you ever wish they had?"

He felt like Andrea was asking him directly instead of the whole class. Dillon's face felt warm. Hell yes, he wished. He wished for a lot of things that never happened. Before he could open his mouth and let the truth tumble out, she continued.

"You don't have to answer that, but I can tell from looking around the room that the answer is yes, sometimes men would like to be let off the hook so to speak. That is a gender role that hopefully this class will help break down for you."

She paused and passed out a stack of clipboards with pens attached. "I want you to fill this out — I'm not going to read the quizzes. They're for your benefit not mine. Be honest with yourself and honor your desires as you answer the questions. When you finish we'll tally the scores and talk about what they mean."

Dillon looked at the ten questions about sexuality and felt a slow blush creep up his neck. He unhooked the pen from the clip and started honestly answering each one. He tallied his score — nine out of ten were yes answers.

After she explained the scoring method, Dillon's score was seven.

"If you scored higher than five, you're ready for this class — whether you realized it or not when your wife or girlfriend dragged you here tonight. Three to five, you're in the right place. You can benefit greatly from expanding your consciousness from traditional sexuality. Less than three, you're a skeptic, and you're the person who needs to be in this class more than anyone else."

Rob raised his hand. "I scored two, and I'm not ashamed to say that I'm skeptical of this stuff. I mean, I get why Lori wanted us to come here, but I don't think that breathing and some kind of Hindu mumbo-jumbo is going to make me be a better lover."

"It's not about the mechanics," Andrea reminded him. "This is about connecting with your partner in a spiritual way. In order to do some of the exercises in upcoming sessions, we're going to start practicing the lotus position. Later, we'll be using a variation of that position — called yab yum. Through that position, we achieve deep intimacy with our partners."

"And we've got to do this in front of the class?" Rob's eyebrows spiked the edge of his receding hairline.

Andrea turned to Dillon. "Are you familiar with the lotus?"

He was — if only from giving Kelly hell about sitting in that position whenever they got together on frequent Saturday nights for movie night. "Yeah, I've seen it," he said.

"Come up here."

He looked dubious.

"I won't bite," she extended one hand. "And if you can't get into the position perfectly, you can sit cross-legged instead. The perfect yoga pose isn't as important as the basic demonstration of yab yum."

Dillon rose and moved in front of her. "Right here?"

"Yes."

He dropped to the mat and assumed the best lotus he could without stretching first. "Good enough?"

"Great," she said. "Don't freak out, okay?"

Dillon nodded. His breath hitched in his throat when she dropped down into his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist. "Now put your arms around me like mine are around you."

He complied while Andrea focused on the class.

"You can see that the pose is very close, physically intimate, even though during the class we'll be completely clothed of course. When you practice at home, however, I would encourage you to assume this position without clothing but refrain from making love until you have both achieved a similar state of arousal."

"Hell," Rob muttered, "it's taken all of thirty seconds just watching the two of you sitting like that."

Andrea laughed.

Dillon stifled a groan.

"It takes men on average three minutes to achieve a full state of arousal. For women, it takes an average of fifteen minutes. This is why your wives or girlfriends get so irritated when you shortchange the foreplay. Our breathing exercises will help, guys. We'll get into those more during the next class, but for now, believe me when I tell you that it will sustain your arousal while it helps your partner achieve hers. Movement and sound are also key during this phase, as is eye contact. The way we speak to our partners should always be loving and respectful. Some instructors insist that students use the phrase my beloved when addressing one another in this position. I'm not a stickler on the exact words used. As long as there is genuine love in the expression, the words aren't as important as the emotion behind them."

He was pretty sure that whatever she said was spoken in some dead language unknown to the common man when it floated into his ears. Dillon couldn't tear his gaze away from the steady thrum of pulse in Andrea's throat, or how slim and graceful her neck was. The angle of her jaw beckoned to him. He struggled to control the urge to lean two inches closer and nibble it. God help him if she started staring at him. The second her heat engulfed him he craved more than the class had to offer.

A moment later she flitted away from him and dismissed the class. Dillon sat on the floor dazed, wondering what the hell just happened, and what on earth Kelly had been thinking when she signed him up for the class.

Andrea offered her hand. He stared dumbly.

"I'm sorry — I should've warned you about yab yum," she said. "Are you upset with me?"

Dillon vaulted off the floor and left without speaking a word.

Chapter 2

He stormed into Kelly's house yelling her name.

"Shh!" She hissed at him. "I just got the baby down, hopefully for the night. What's wrong with you?"

"Me?" He fumed, pacing back and forth in her living room. "You lied to me, Kelly. What in God's name were you thinking?"

She grinned, an unrepentant twinkle in her eyes. "So you finally went to the class."

"I won't go back!"

"Why not?"

"You could've at least warned me that I was supposed to take a date, dammit. So what happens? I end up being the instructor's partner. Do you know what people say about her at the gym?"

"I can only surmise that the cretins you call friends don't have any better taste in women than you do," she said. Kelly crossed her arms and stood toe to toe with her hulking brother. In the historic battle of wills, he had yet to score a single point. Now would be no different.

"My friends — the people at the gym are not my friends, Kell. My friends are back east where I should still be. I don't know why the hell I let you talk me into moving here. I hate it."

Her fingers crept up his arm. "Dillon, you're the only family I have left. Was it so wrong that I thought we'd both be happier if we lived in the same city?"

"I'm not your only family. You've got Scott and the baby. You don't need me here."

"So I'm supposed to be content knowing that you're miserable and alone half way across the country?"

"I understand that you like watching my misery in person, but you crossed a line with this class. I mean it, Kelly. I've tolerated your machinations in the past because basically, no harm no foul. But this time..." He shook his head and cursed softly under his breath. "What was the point of all of this? Did you want to embarrass me?"

"Of course not!"

"Well that's what you did. Thanks a lot and Merry fucking Christmas to you too." He stomped out the front door of her house without another word, refusing to acknowledge her plea for him to be rational and talk.

Kelly clutched one hand to her breast, two steps from following him out the door when the phone rang. She dashed into the kitchen and answered. "Scott?"

"Sorry — it's me. Andrea Witt."

"Oh, hi Andrea. Listen if you're calling because Dillon was —"

"I'm worried that I upset him," Andrea cut her off. "He seemed like everything was fine until the end of the class when I asked him to help me demonstrate the yab yum position."

Kelly groaned. "Did he make a scene?"

"No," Andrea said. "He was very cooperative, but after class he seemed upset. I apologized for not warning him in advance how close that particular position puts two people, and it wasn't fair for me to do that to him. He walked out. I'm afraid that he'll confront you. Kelly, I know you love your brother, but you should've told him exactly what this class was. He should've been able to bring someone he already has an intimate relationship with."

"That's part of the problem. Dillon doesn't let anyone get close to him — except me," Kelly said. "And don't worry about him. He was already here and let me have it. We'll be fine. I doubt he'll drop your class."

Andrea was silent for several uncomfortable moments. "I don't want an angry participant in my class, Kelly. Negative energy isn't going to help the other students learn to communicate spiritually or in a loving way. Maybe I should call him and let him know I understand that he doesn't want to come back, or suggest that if he does that he bring someone he knows with him. He shouldn't have to be the role model for the class with a complete stranger."

"He's not a complete stranger anymore. Please don't give up on him, Andrea. He needs this class whether he realizes it or not."

Andrea stared at his score on the test he abandoned before rushing out of class. If he answered honestly, he was ready for what she could teach him. "He should bring someone with him, Kelly. The class doesn't do nearly as much good without a partner to share the experience with."

"Then you should share it with him," she said. "My call waiting is beeping, and I'm expecting a call from my husband. Let me know if he drops the class. I'll make it up to you either way, Andrea. I promise."

Kelly hung up the phone and wandered to the bay window in the living room. Dillon was long gone. There really was no point trying to talk to him rationally when he was this angry. She'd seen it a million times before — and until he cooled off, there was no logical discussion. She hoped he'd go back to the next class.

*~*~*~*~*

His first thought after an unsatisfying argument with his up-to-no-good sister was to hit the bar and get rip roaring drunk. Dillon didn't want to leave his car at the bar and take a taxi home in the first place. In the second, it was Monday night. A hangover Tuesday morning wouldn't bode well on the job. He needed his mind sharp to function with the surly teenagers that populated the suburban high school where Dillon taught advanced placement math and science. The summer school class he taught hosted kids who were failing the basics. In other words, his patience was tested to the limit without a hangover.

He had two other options — home to stew and toss and turn, or return to the gym and work out his frustration on the weight machines. Yeah, a good endorphin rush would take the embarrassing sting out of Kelly's cruel gift.

His membership was at a 24-hour gymnasium. Dillon got his money's worth, sometimes showing up twice a day. At first, the attention he received was flattering. But as one empty hook-up blended into the next, he found himself showing up at odd hours when the gym was less populated with clients whose interest in fitness was questionable.

Dillon pushed through the front doors. Heather had gone home, replaced by Chuck at the front desk. He nodded a snarled greeting at the man and headed toward the weight room. At least that was where Dillon's mind told him to go. His legs had other ideas. He paused outside the door to the yoga room and watched Andrea through the window stretching and working through a series of yoga positions that downright defied physics.

One hand braced on the floor while the other gripped the back of her calf. In one graceful move, Andrea's torso aligned with her perfectly straight leg. The other rose slowly, toes pointing to the ceiling. He wanted to go in the room and run his hands over every straight plane, every silky inch of her skin. He sucked in a deep breath, grasped the doorknob and yanked the door open. He stepped inside the room.

"No more classes tonight," she said without altering her pose a fraction of an inch.

"Good. You can put me through the paces so I'm not caught off guard the next time you decide to use me for your demo model," Dillon said.

The extended leg folded slowly to the floor. Andrea stood. "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have let Rob goad me into proving that there's more to this course than talk."

"You might've warned me when you were coaxing me to stay in the first place." Dillon's arms folded like steel bands over his chest. "Or is that your sexual kink, Ms. Witt?"

"Excuse me?"

"You like getting men hot and bothered when they don't see it coming, and then you just prance away and dismiss them."

"I didn't mean to —"

Four steps on the beat of her words brought Dillon in front of her. His hands bisected her upper arms. "You didn't mean to what? Turn me on in front of a two dozen strangers?"

"I didn't mean to make you feel dismissed, or to arouse you."

"If I'm coming back here to be your partner so your other students don't have to simply imagine how it's done, you're doing more than telling me before class," Dillon said. "Otherwise, the deal is off, lady."

"Private lessons aren't appropriate, Dillon."

"Fine," his teeth clenched over the word. "Consider this my formal withdrawal from the class." He was half way to the door when her words stopped him.

"Wait. I don't want you to drop out of the class. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable bringing someone with you."

Dillon glanced over his shoulder. "I guess Kelly didn't tell you everything, did she? There is no one else, unless you count half the female population of this gym that comes for the meat market instead of fitness."

"It wasn't fair for me to put you in that position without teaching you to breathe first," Andrea said. "I'm sorry. I felt Rob slipping away from what his wife needs. It was wrong to put that before what was best for you. I'd be happy to coach you through the breathing exercises so you can put your focus there during class."

Dillon's eyebrows stitched into a tight V. "And this breathing stuff, it'll stop me from walking out of here looking like someone pitched a tent in my shorts?"

Andrea bit back her smile. "It helps. Part of tantric sex, one of the results is prolonging sexual pleasure for hours instead of rushing to the finish line, Dillon. It's accomplished through deep breathing. It's the shallow rapid stuff that gets people in trouble."

"So teach it to me."

"Can you come early tomorrow night?"

"I meant now." What he felt earlier with her legs wrapped around his waist and her heat radiating through him crept back. His cock started to thicken the second she made the offer.

"All right," Andrea beckoned to him. "Come sit. We'll do this facing each other but without assuming the yab yum position this time."

He approached the mat at the front of the classroom. "I still think that it's not gonna do a hell of a lot of good if I can't get used to that yum-yum thing before we've got an audience."

"Yab yum," Andrea assumed the lotus position and encouraged him to do the same. "I want you to concentrate on breathing as deeply as you possibly can. Use your muscles from here," she placed her hand low on her abdomen. "Not just your lungs or your diaphragm, but all of your abdominal muscles to draw a slow breath through your nose."

He grumbled but assumed the position for the second time in as many hours. "Fine. So I suck this slow breath in and then what?"

"Hold it for about three to five seconds and then slowly push as much air out through your nose as you can. Like this." Andrea inhaled a quiet breath through her nose, held it, and slowly exhaled again. "When we're in yab yum, eventually the goal is that our breathing will occur in tandem. As I exhale, you'll inhale my breath and vice versa."

"And that's supposed to keep me from ripping a hole in my shorts?"

"It really works. Remember, tantra is about controlling your responses to sexual stimulation. This is how men can achieve multiple orgasms and prolong pleasure during lovemaking — it's all about how you breathe, and having the ability to stop and rest when you're getting too close to orgasm."

"Why?"

Andrea stared at him, eyes blank. "Why what?"

"Why would anybody want to stop an orgasm?"

"You'll have to learn that on your own — when you find a partner that wants to share this experience with you, Dillon. I can only provide the tools. Understanding them is part of the journey you have to experience alone."

"Well I guess we should try this breathing thing. Go ahead and do a few so I can get the timing of your rhythm," he said.

"It's best if we start together, Dillon. You'll get some practice with the technique before we start reciprocal breathing. Let's synchronize first. Tap it out with your fingers like this if it helps you hold your breath for a three count." Andrea positioned her thumb against her second finger and started tapping — one — two — three — before exhaling slowly.

Tension and anger bled out of him while they breathed together. "Am I getting it?" He murmured on the fifth exhale.

Andrea nodded. "Let's keep going for awhile like this."

"I got it," he said. "Let's do that reciprocal thing now."

"You understand that during the class, I'll be talking and instructing the other students, so we won't be doing as much reciprocal breathing as everyone else."

"If I'm gonna learn how to do this right with a real partner someday, does that mean I'm getting short-changed?"

"Let's try it. You inhale first, and I'll start breathing on your exhale. Let me know when you're ready."

He nodded, and started tapping his fingers. Dillon kept watching her abs, missing his cue to inhale on her exhale. "This isn't working."

"It's easier in the yab yum position."

He patted his thighs.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It's what Kelly paid for, isn't it?"

Andrea slipped out of the lotus position and moved into Dillon's lap. Her lithe legs wrapped around his waist. "Close your eyes and feel my breath. When you feel it, inhale, hold it for three seconds and exhale. In through the nose, out through the mouth this time."

She smelled like cinnamon and sugar. The first puff of air made him moan low in the back of his throat.

"Concentrate on breathing."

Dillon's large hands splayed over her back like a fleshy blanket. He itched to let them explore without inhibition. More sweet cinnamon caressed his face and neck. He sucked it deeply into his lungs, wanting to hold it there forever.

"Exhale," she coaxed. "That's it."

Another breath, and another. Dillon felt his body melting away, out from him and into her. "You smell fantastic," he murmured.

"Shh. No talking yet. Keep your eyes closed." Andrea watched him closely. She could see his stress bleeding out of a body wound like a tight spring having its tension released. Dillon's mouth relaxed into a smile. "You're a natural," she said.

His eyes slit open. "You're watching me?"

"Yes."

"Can I watch you too?"

"If you'd like. It's important that we maintain eye contact if our eyes are open."

"Why?"

"To feel the energy of your partner. We're getting way ahead of what we've talked about in class, Dillon."

"Can we talk now?"

Andrea nodded.

"Your eyes are violet," he said. "They're exquisite."

"Thank you."

"I never noticed them before."

Pink color flushed her face. "You mean in class tonight?"

Dillon's breath rushed out of his lungs.

"Keep breathing slowly," she said. "No matter what, stay focused on that."

He found her rhythm and fell into it again. Several long minutes passed before he spoke again. "I've seen you around here a lot before tonight. That's what I meant."

"Oh..." Andrea's hands kneaded his back. "You should've introduced yourself."

"I'm Dillon Holbrook."

Her eyes fluttered shut. A tremor rippled from her into Dillon.

"May I ask a question?" Dillon's voice was barely a whisper. He waited for her nearly imperceptible nod before continuing. "Look at me Andrea."

Her ankles tightened and drew her closer to him. Andrea's eyes were large and damp, her pupils dilated.

"Did you mean that stuff about women being comfortable initiating intimacy?"

"Yes."

"What if she won't do it?"

"Then he should ask permission to start."

Dillon's hand slid up her back, the thumb brushing where her hair met the soft skin of her neck. "May I?"

"Oh yes," she breathed. Her heart pounded hard, pulsing at the base of her throat.

Dillon wanted to taste it. Her heat increased and enveloped him like waves licking out from an open fire. His fingers plucked the hair sticks from the tight roll on the back of her head. Long strands of ebony cascaded down her back, silk over his hands before the tips tickled over the floor.

This time Andrea's breathing faltered.

"Easy," he soothed. "Remember that breathing thing, right?"

Her eyes drifted to half mast. Andrea arched closer to Dillon's body. She'd had students in the past who volunteered to demonstrate the yab yum with her before but never in private, never this long, and never with eyes so midnight blue that they reminded her of the endless possibilities in the universe. She felt his arousal in every cell of her body, and when he looked at her too long, the twinkle in his eyes transformed into starlight on a perfectly clear night. Most men wouldn't be content to keep breathing with her. Men like Sam played along to a point, and got angry when she wasn't ready for more. She should've known Dillon would have great stamina, especially after he held the four-limbed staff pose for over a minute.

Andrea's chin dipped, and she peeked through her eyelashes. A thick column of flesh lay in stark relief through his gym shorts. It didn't make him angry this time, perhaps because they were alone. She suspected it was because he felt her arousal matching his, possibly surpassing it now.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked.

She dragged his breath into her. Andrea dug through memory wildly, trying to find another time where breathing had been this erotic, when just sharing space and connecting with another human being made her feel so much. "Not even Sam," she whispered.

"Who is Sam?"

Andrea shook her head and smiled. "I'm sorry — I got lost in an old memory for a second. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, great," he muttered. Their breathing fell out of sync.

"Tantra is known for helping heal old emotional pain too, Dillon. I — I hadn't felt that before."

His hands roved possessively. "And Sam hurt you?"

"A little bit."

Dillon inhaled her cinnamon breath deeply, held it, savored it. "Can I ask something else?"

"Do you remember what I said about asking in class tonight?"

"I — not really."

Andrea shifted closer to him. Her first speech on the subject of addressing one's partner was during the yab yum, when her proximity disconcerted him. "When partners are in this position, it's customary to address each other with love and respect. Traditionally, the phrase my beloved is used."

"And you want me to say that?"

"I told the class to use any term of endearment that feels natural," she said. "Since we don't really know each other — "

"Cinnamon girl," he whispered.

Andrea's smile stretched slowly to reveal white teeth. Her violet eyes glistened. "I like that."

"Will you tell me what you like?"

"I don't understand."

"I'll never smell cinnamon again without feeling you with me just like this," his words tumbled out in a rush. "Tell me what to do to make you remember me too."

Sensory imprinting was powerful. Some theorized that scent was the most powerful of all the senses. "Oranges," she whispered. "They remind me of happy Christmases. My mother used to stuff my stocking with oranges."

His hands gripped her firmly and pulled her closer. Andrea realized that if they weren't wearing clothes, that simple movement would've slid his cock into the slick folds of her sex. She moaned softly at the glancing contact, friction of cloth against cloth sparking another layer of desire.

"You lied to me." Dillon's breathing was slow, deep and even.

Andrea imagined him stroking deep inside her with the same rhythm. "No..."

"Yeah, you did. Breathing hasn't made me want you less. I'm just damned calm about it."

Chapter 3

Dillon wasn't sure who ended the embrace first or how he got to his car. The drive home from the gym was lost in a pleasant fog of arousal that thrummed through his body. He felt like he'd had the best sex of his life, and not a stitch of clothing had been removed. Instead of the emptiness of his last several encounters, Dillon couldn't wait to see Andrea again. He didn't even care if he stayed rock hard until it happened. It wasn't painful arousal that begged for release.

"Incredible," he murmured with a slightly bewildered shake of his head.

The neon green light on the microwave oven reminded him that it was after eleven and he had an early day. Dillon wasn't sure sleep would come. He kept reliving every incredible moment after their argument — her pulse pounding at the base of her slender throat, the soft, throaty rasp of her voice when Andrea coached his breathing, the incredible heat that radiated from her body. A fantasy of that silky black hair wrapped around their naked bodies haunted his mind.

A few hours ago, he looked at Andrea Witt with the same disdain as the other guys in the gym — she was one of those uppity, cold women, a feminist who if she did fuck around, probably did it with the lights off while in the missionary position. Tendrils of shame unfolded in his heart. The dichotomy of the woman wasn't lost on him. She was strong but vulnerable, tough but sweet, beautiful but reserved. Andrea Witt was a mystery he wanted to unravel.

"Who was Sam and what did he do that hurt you?" Dillon padded into his bedroom and stripped his clothes away. Underneath the cool, crisp sheets, he recalled his irritation. Holding her, inhaling her essence into more than his lungs — it had been surprisingly erotic. Hearing another man's names on her lips stirred something less pleasant. Instantly, Dillon realized he didn't like being the man holding her while she dreamed of someone else's hands on her body.

The prickle of jealousy was soothed by her soft admission that she never experienced the sense of healing old wounds — until Dillon. He understood it more with each passing minute of calm lethargy blanketing him. It was a night of firsts for both of them. Instead of alleviating his arousal alone in the dark, Dillon savored it. He slept with thoughts of Andrea's body wrapped around him and woke the next morning remembering her scent.

After a shower, and dressing hastily, Dillon sped through the neighborhood to the high school where he taught. His midterm relocation to Denver necessitated picking up the summer term with students Dillon didn't prefer teaching. It wasn't a matter of disliking the students. Dillon didn't understand why anyone feared math and science. His pupils over the summer term were repeat learners in basic algebra. It was boring and lacked challenge.

At least that was how he felt about it prior to last night. Andrea faced a class full of adults who were wary if not outright opposed to learning what she wanted to teach them, and she managed to spark interest in everyone before the class ended. It inspired him to find a way to reach his students and push past the mental block that prevented success.

Dillon's frustration started building when the students exchanged papers to score the homework assignment he'd given. They were all failing. He sucked in a deep breath and held it. Andrea's air invaded him again. The tension bled away.

"What's the problem here?" He walked in front of his desk and perched on the edge.

Sixteen pairs of eyes stared at him, half fearful, half wary.

"I'm serious. Do you just hate math?"

Desktops suddenly held deep fascination. Dillon chuckled. "Let me tell you a story." A few peeked up at him. "My sister — do any of you have sisters?"

Several students raised their hands.

"Well, my sister is probably more annoying than any sister in the history of sisters. She gave me a Christmas present last year that I didn't want, wasn't gonna use, stuffed it in a drawer and ignored for almost six months."

"Was it a sweater?"

Dillon's grin accented the dimples in his cheeks. "No, it was for a class."

"Your sister sent you to school for a Christmas present?"

Dillon nodded. He held their rapt attention. "Yep. Do I look like a yoga kind of guy to you?"

They snickered.

"Well, she nagged and pestered me for six months until I finally showed up for this class that I was convinced was a waste of my time and something I would hate. I didn't go because I wanted to be there. I went because — and if you knew my sister, you'd understand this — I had no choice but to attend."

"So you know how to do yoga?" one student asked.

"No." Dillon laughed again. "I don't know how to do yoga. In fact, I almost dropped the class before it started. But the instructor asked me to give it a fair chance." His shoulders rolled up. "Guess what?"

"You liked it."

"Yeah, I did. And I learned that it doesn't matter how much weight I can bench press, or how far I can run, or anything else. That itty bitty yoga instructor is stronger than I am in quite a few ways. I would've missed out on something that can actually help me live better for the rest of my life if I hadn't opened my mind just a little bit."

"You think we hate math."

"I don't know how you feel about it," Dillon said. "What I believe is that we're never gonna make progress if somebody doesn't speak up and tell me what the problem is here. If you open your mind and want to learn this, I can teach you. If not, we're all wasting our time. I realize it's summer and we'd all rather be anywhere but here. You have to pass this class at some point between now and graduation. This is a really small group. It should be easier for you to get the help you need to understand algebra, not harder."

"It doesn't make any sense, Mr. Holbrook. I mean, it's math not English. What's up with all these letters and symbols? Whatever happened to plain old multiplication and division signs?"

Dillon strode to the blackboard and wrote out the problem everyone failed to solve. "This is confusing?"

"Yes," sixteen voices chimed in unison.

"Because of the letters in the equation?"

The chorus sang.

Dillon started solving the problem, explaining step by step the process. "It doesn't matter what numbers are missing. If you use the system of what you know about a problem, you will always be able to find the missing information. See?"

"But why does it have to be written that way?"

Dillon wrote an advanced equation on the board to emphasize his point.

"Holy —" one of the kids cursed softly.

He looked over his shoulder. "This is not part of your homework. Don't panic. I'm illustrating a point. In order to express this equation with the kind of math you're comfortable using..." he started scrawling solution after solution onto the blackboard. When half the board was full, he made his point. "It requires this much information to show the same problem. Algebra allows us to use an abbreviated expression for complex problems."

Dillon resumed his perch on the desk. "Hand your papers back. We're going to work these problems together until you all grasp how to solve them."

The lowest score on the day's homework assignment was 80 percent. Dillon gave another assignment from the same chapter for the next morning's class. "If we can't hit the same mark tomorrow, we'll keep working this chapter until you understand it."

"Mr. H., we've only got six weeks left to learn this stuff. If we can't get through one chapter —"

"Have a little faith," he grinned. "You'll get it, and I'm sure you'll all pass the class. You've got to speak up and tell me why you don't understand any part we're learning. Okay?"

Dillon's mood soared long after the last student left the classroom. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed one number that was familiar before he moved to Denver.

"Hello?"

"Hey sis — got plans for lunch?"

"Uh...why are you being so nice to me?"

Dillon's grin was audible. "What, I can't call my big sister and ask her to lunch?"

"When you left my house last night, you looked like you'd rather brain me than speak to me. Are you calmer now?"

"I'm better than calm. Can you meet me at that little Mexican grill down in Cherry Creek at noon?"

"Dillon, you're acting strange — even for you."

"C'mon... I just had a really great morning in school, and I want to take you to lunch so I can brag about what an amazing teacher I am."

"I don't have a sitter for Chelsea."

"Bring her along."

"Who are you, and where is my brother?"

Dillon laughed. "So babies scare me a little bit. I'll never get over it if I keep avoiding her until she has teeth and language skills. Besides, I feel bad for yelling at you last night. Consider it a peace offering."

"I don't know, Dilly. It's a lot of work packing up all her stuff to go to a restaurant."

"Then I'll bring lunch to you."

"Fine," she agreed with a shake of her head. "We'll be here, same as always."

Inspiration struck while Dillon was driving through Cherry Creek. Saks Fifth Avenue beckoned from the popular mall in the trendy shopping district. He parked and jogged inside the store. A wave of apprehension struck him before he reached the men's counter.

"May I help you find something today, sir?"

Dillon stared at the woman. He clenched his jaw.

"Sir?"

"Uh... I'm not sure. Do you have any cologne that smells sort of...uh...like oranges?"

She smiled. "As a matter of fact, we do. It's called Capri Orange. Would you like to sample it?" The clerk pulled a bottle with a sample sticker affixed and offered it to him.

Dillon sniffed cautiously. "Nice," he said. "Orange but something else too."

"Lemon, mandarin, caramel and musk," she said. "Would you like to purchase a bottle?"

What would Andrea think? Dillon scratched his goatee. "Yeah, I guess." He'd find out later if she thought he was being forward. The smell of cinnamon rolls from a bakery inside the mall wafted into his nostrils and reminded him of her. Would it be so terrible if she thought of him in the produce aisle of the grocery store?

Forty minutes later, he pulled into Kelly's driveway. Dillon scooped the bag of food he ordered under his arm and let himself in the front door. "Honey, I'm home!"

His sister appeared in the doorway hissing him to silence again. "You do it on purpose, don't you? I swear, every time I get her settled down, you show up yelling or call —"

"Is that your way of telling me how hard I'll have to grovel for forgiveness?" Dillon kissed her forehead and swatted her behind. "I haven't apologized by the way. You were still wrong to play that trick on me."

Kelly frowned. "I wasn't playing a prank, Dillon. Here I was hoping your improved mood meant that you came to your senses about Andrea's class."

"Don't start nagging. I haven't dropped out."

"Yet." Kelly took lunch from his arms and strode to the kitchen. "I hope you didn't get anything too spicy."

His nose wrinkled. "Please don't start with the breast milk and diet stuff again, Kell. I've had a really great day and I don't want you ruining it."

They sat and dug into chicken enchiladas smothered with green chili. "Why are you so chipper this afternoon?"

Dillon grinned. "I connected with my students this morning."

"The ones in remedial algebra?" The corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. "I thought you said they were hopeless rejects."

"Let's just say that I had a little epiphany and leave it at that. You should've seen 'em Kell. I haven't felt this good about teaching since three of my AP students got perfect math scores on the SATs."

"Wow...all of this over kids who will probably never achieve that kind of success. You've got to tell me what this epiphany was."

Dillon speared a chunk of chicken and popped it into his mouth. He pointed his fork at Kelly and mumbled, "You."

"Me?"

"If you hadn't made me go to that ridiculous class, I would've never felt stupid and inept like my students. They're afraid of something they didn't and don't completely understand. I just needed to figure out how to tap into what didn't make sense and show them that it wasn't so hard after all."

Kelly scowled at him. "Does that mean you're not going back to Andrea's class?"

"Already went," he said.

"You... but how? The next class isn't until tonight."

Dillon grinned. "When I left here last night, I went back."

"You quit?"

"Nope."

"Dammit, Dillon, stop being so cryptic."

He shrugged and chewed in silence until Kelly reached for his plate. "Fine. I went back and talked to her. I'm not dropping out of the class. I agree with Rob that the religious — or spiritual stuff — sounds like mumbo-jumbo, but I won't quit just because it's something I've never done before. Who knows? I might meet somebody at work, or the grocery store or somewhere else that's into it. Could be fun."

Kelly's shoulders sagged. "So..."

"So what?"

"Never mind."

"What's that Andrea chick's story anyway? I mean, I've heard some stuff from the guys at the gym, that she's too good to socialize with anybody outside her little yoga world. You know her. What's your take?"

"If you're expecting me to talk trash about a dear friend —"

"I'm not, Kell. I'm genuinely curious."

"She's been in Denver about six months longer than you."

"So a year."

"Thereabout."

"And?"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you, Dillon."

He focused on his lunch. "I dunno. Is she dating anybody?"

Kelly's fork hung in midair between her plate and her mouth. "Why would you ask me that, Dillon? Did those steroid popping —"

"Nobody asked me to dig up dirt on Andrea. She mentioned a name last night, that's all. Sam."

Kelly's eyes widened. "She talked about Sam in your class?"

"I never said that."

"He called her?"

Dillon's eyes snapped into focus on his sister's face at the alarm in her voice. "I never said that either. She mentioned him. To me."

It took a dumbstruck moment before Kelly snapped her mouth shut.

"She said he hurt her."

"You could say that."

"Dammit, what the hell did he do? She said the same thing."

"If she wants to talk about Sam, I'm glad. She shouldn't keep it a secret. At the same time, a good friend isn't going to do the talking for her, Dillon. Andrea is a sweet, kind and gentle woman. I won't betray her trust."

"Hmm," he chewed thoughtfully. "I figured you might say that. Will you at least tell me if she's still hung up on the guy?"

"What on earth for? Are you interested in her, Dillon?"

"Me?" He scoffed. "She's not my type and you know it. Her chest is too flat. She has black hair. She's taller than a lot of men I know."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "You like them petite, blonde and busty."

"Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Kelly pinned him with a hard gaze. "Only that none of them have made you particularly happy, Dilly."

"Do you talk a lot?"

"I talk all the time. Have you forgotten?"

"I meant to Andrea."

"We have coffee once or twice a month. I haven't seen her since Chelsea was born, but we've spoken on the phone a few times." Kelly didn't divulge the call from Andrea the night before.

"So you wouldn't know for sure if this Sam guy is back in her life."

Kelly shuddered. "I can only hope he isn't."

Chapter 4

Nobody dropped the class. Dillon spent more than an hour working out, stretching and lifting before he showered, slapped on a tiny splash of Capri Orange and slipped into the yoga room. Rob nodded a greeting, relief sweeping through his eyes that the most masculine of the bunch hadn't bailed.

Then again, Rob had boldly pointed out how erotic the yab yum position was while Andrea still straddled Dillon's lap. The experience taught him more than Andrea knew. Tonight, Dillon wisely wore compression shorts underneath the loose fitting workout clothing. He could get hard as a granite obelisk and nobody would see a thing.

She didn't greet him. Andrea simply asked everyone to take their seats and started talking about chakras and the third eye. She asked the class to close their eyes and imagine each area she described as a disk of pure energy inside them.

Dillon listened to the sultry voice, hypnotic and seductive. He could listen to her all night and not get tired. The words didn't make much sense as abstract notions, but the memory of how their hearts pounded and heat generated between them left little room for doubt that such energy could well exist as she described it.

Andrea started simple breathing exercises next. She explained different types of breathing before she asked Dillon to join her at the front of the class. "Hi," she said softly.

He answered with a goofy grin and, "Where do you want me?"

"Please sit facing the class. Gentlemen, if you can't assume the lotus position, that's all right for this exercise. Tomorrow night, we'll be doing some simple stretching exercises that will help you sit in the yab yum position comfortably. What's important tonight is that you're able to sit in a comfortable position behind your partner, her back to your chest. Like this." Andrea carefully sat in Dillon's lap. Her hand clasped one of his and drew it around her and placed it low on her belly. "Gentlemen, I want you holding your partners exactly like this."

Andrea froze. Her neck tilted, lifting her chin. She looked up at Dillon.

"Did I do something wrong?"

She shook her head. "Sorry. I..."

He murmured in her ear, "You what?"

"Nothing." She refocused on the class and instructed in great detail how to breathe deeply. "Imagine that you're drawing in air from the tip of your spine all the way into your head. In this position, you can feel your partner breathing — in slow and deep — hold for a five count — and exhale slow and deep. The key to doing this without getting a headache because the average person doesn't draw in this much air, is to keep the rhythm very slow and even."

Andrea bounced up and walked around the room monitoring progress, offering tips and praising couples who fell into an easy rhythm. "We're going to keep breathing, and while you do this, I want you to think about the energy between you and your partner. Imagine that you are not two individuals, but one, sharing life and air and energy. Close your eyes and feel the emotion."

Dillon watched her weave her way back toward him. She assumed the yab yum position with him and whispered, "You smell like oranges."

"I want you to remember me."

"Shh," Andrea murmured. "Breathe with me."

They quickly fell into a reciprocal cycle. The class melted into the background. The spell of calm and bone shattering desire descended on Dillon again. Andrea's eyes mirrored the emotion he felt. Ten minutes evaporated.

Andrea extricated herself from the embrace and walked the class through more practice exercises. Reciprocal breathing — which a few had observed between Dillon and Andrea — was promised for Wednesday night's agenda after Rob piped up.

"When do we get to learn that thing the two of you were doing up there?"

She blushed and defined reciprocal breathing. "Even more intense than that — at least in my opinion — is something called circulating breath. We need to talk about chakras in more detail before we advance to that level. Tomorrow night, I want you to make sure you wear comfortable clothing. We'll do stretching exercises, work on the lotus position and then you get to experience yab yum. Does anyone have any questions?"

"I have one," Marie, Rob's wife grinned slyly. "How long have the two of you been doing this?" Her head nodded in Dillon's direction.

"Awhile," Andrea said. "See you tomorrow night at seven sharp."

Dillon regretted that the class was over so soon. He saw the schedule posted outside the door on his way inside. Andrea had another class coming — this one yoga. She wouldn't have time for a private lesson tonight.

He loitered anyway.

"Dillon?"

"I know you have another class. I was just wondering..."

"We won't be doing anything tomorrow night beyond what I've shown you," she said. "I promise— no more surprises."

He doubted that. She seemed to surprise him every time she opened her mouth. Dillon shook his head. "It's not that. I was wondering if you'd like to go get a coffee or something after your next class."

"I really don't—"

"Please?"

"Chai tea," she said softly.

"Never heard of it. We'll find someplace that serves it."

"I have some at my house... if you want to... come over."

Dillon's heart thudded and a heavy weight descended in his groin. "I accept the invitation. Meet you here in an hour?"

"Yes."

For almost an hour, Dillon paced. The few late patrons of the gym that knew him said hello, but he was so focused on what was about to happen that conversation didn't take root. Finally, he gave up resisting temptation and returned to the yoga room and watched Andrea finish her class. It was an advanced class, filled with women who others might see as mere clones of their instructor — all slim and lithe wearing a rainbow of leotards, yoga pants and shorts, stretching into gravity defying poses. He vaguely noticed them. Dillon's attention focused on Andrea completely.

It garnered more than a few curious glances from students, but as usual, Andrea acted like nothing out of the ordinary happened. She concluded the class and shimmied into the skinniest pair of jeans Dillon had ever seen. Andrea slung a bag over one shoulder and palmed her car keys. Before she joined him, Dillon heard one of her students whisper, "Is that Sam?"

Her companion shook her head furiously. "I don't know who he is, but that's definitely not Sam."

"I thought he followed her around. Are you sure that's not him?"

"Gossip. Sam's history, trust me."

Andrea's hand glanced over Dillon's arm. "Ready to go?"

It snapped his attention away from the whispered conversation. He smiled. "Yeah, let's get out of here."

Dillon thought nothing of it when Chuck made a joke about Andrea not needing an escort out of the building that night. It wasn't a rough part of town, but it was understandable why a single woman wouldn't want to walk through a darkened parking lot alone. He walked Andrea to her car. It was a dilapidated thing that looked like it might fall apart over a speed bump. He stared at it dubiously. "Will you wait for me to follow you?"

"Of course."

"I'm over there." He hiked his thumb in the opposite direction.

"Just drive over. I'll be here."

By the time Dillon reached where she parked again, Andrea had the hood of the car open. He jumped out of his truck and joined her in front of the car. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. It won't start."

"Want to call a tow truck? I can take you home after it hauls the car away. A garage can take a look at it first thing in the morning and get you up and running in no time."

Her shoulders slumped. "I'm afraid not this time. They warned me a few months ago that the next problem would probably be the old girl's last."

"Nah," Dillon said. "Scott knows a guy that works in a garage out here. We'll call Kelly and get the name of the place and have it towed there. If you have it hauled to a dealership, of course they're gonna say it can't be fixed. They want you buying something new."

She nodded absently.

"Want me to start making calls?"

"Thanks," she whispered.

Thirty minutes later, Dillon had it all arranged. The tow truck would deliver Andrea's wreck to Scott's friend's garage. He omitted the reason for asking when he called Kelly. He opened the door to his truck for Andrea. "How far is your house?"

"A couple of miles."

She gave directions before turning her head and staring out the window. Dillon frowned. "Hey, don't worry about the car. Scott says this friend of his is a dying breed — an honest mechanic. They'll get you on the road again."

"It's not that."

"Then what?" Dillon asked.

"It's nothing really."

"Need transportation tomorrow?"

She shook her head. "I'm close enough to work to walk or run. That's not the problem. I'm worried about how much damage there is this time."

Dillon reached over and squeezed her hand. "Probably something simple like spark plugs. It must have sentimental value, huh?"

"Sentimental value?"

"Well, she looks like she's served you well over the years. You haven't parted with her when the problems started cropping up. I figured maybe you aren't willing to upgrade for sentimental reasons."

"Oh."

"Andrea, are you all right? You act like you're a million miles away."

Her eyes kept focused out the window. At first, Dillon thought she was staring at nothing, but the farther he drove, the more it became obvious that she was closely watching the rear view mirror on the side of his truck. Before he could press the issue, she turned to him and smiled.

"Thank you for being here tonight, Dillon."

"I'd be happy to taxi you around tomorrow if you need it. I've got class from nine to eleven, but after that, I'm free for the day."

"You're a student?"

He chuckled. "I'm teaching summer school this term. I guess Kelly doesn't talk about me at all, huh?"

"I know you're her brother. Other than that, no, she hasn't really said much other than that she believed you'd enjoy my class."

"Don't tell her I said this, but she's right. I am enjoying it. In fact, if she hadn't kept nagging me to go, I wouldn't have had a breakthrough with my kids at school today."

"Really?" Andrea's attention drifted away from the mirror completely. "How's that?"

He explained his frustration and how only one class had opened his eyes to the fact that his pupils weren't that much different than the skeptics in Andrea's class Monday night. "So I figured if it worked for you, it might work for me. I got the kids to tell me why they were blocked when the subject matter was algebra. Mind you, I'm pretty sure that the windows of their minds didn't open completely, but I'm still pretty excited and... well, hopeful that tomorrow's class will start off better than the past couple of weeks have."

Dillon parked in Andrea's driveway. "Do you still feel like sharing a cup of tea?"

She peeked up through sable lashes and nodded. "If it's getting too late for you, I understand. I didn't expect car trouble tonight, Dillon."

"Are you kidding? I've been dying of curiosity about chai tea for the last forty-five minutes."

"I can make coffee if you prefer."

Dillon shook his head and grinned. "No way. I'm on a roll with new experiences this week. I've decided not to pass on them."

He followed her into the modest home. Inside, Dillon noticed immediately that Andrea wasn't merely an instructor of Hindu disciplines like yoga and tantra. Her home reflected that it was a lifestyle she adopted and embraced. "Feng shui?"

"No, actually. It's based on the East Indian Mughal style."

"Never heard of it," Dillon said, "but it's beautiful. Lots of clean lines and order, right angles. It's almost a mathematical symmetry."

"That's what you teach, isn't it?" Andrea led the way to the kitchen and filled a pan with a mixture of water, milk, loose tea leaves, spices and a large dollop of honey and set it to simmer. "Kelly did mention something about math and science."

"During the regular session I teach advanced placement courses for both math and science — calculus, chemistry and anatomy and physiology specifically. This summer, I picked up the basic algebra class."

"No wonder you had trouble connecting with the students. You're probably accustomed to those who already have an affinity for the subject."

"We're never too old to learn," he bowed slightly. "Thanks to my instructor's example, these kids might not dread math so much in the future. Who knows? I might see one or two of them in my AP classes before they graduate."

The mixture of tea brewing on the range filled the air with the spice — strongly cinnamon in Dillon's mind — he associated with Andrea. He inhaled a deep breath of it, relaxed and felt a smile bubble from deep inside. "So what about you?"

"Me?" she echoed.

"You've been teaching yoga for a long time it seems from what little I've seen of your skill. You've got incredible poise and balance. How did you get into it?" Dillon eased onto a barstool and propped his chin on his fist.

"I was in college," Andrea said. "I studied kinesiology, met a guy who thought it would be a real hoot to see if I could master yoga. I suppose he based it on my physique at the time."

"What does that mean?" Dillon immediately thought of the mystery guy Sam.

"It's a stereotype I suppose," Andrea said. "The long lean girl has to have a natural affinity for yoga, right?" She turned back to the stove and stirred the tea. "I wasn't quite the image of poise and balance in the early days, but the philosophy of yoga appealed to me. I liked the peace achieved through meditation and the notion that our energy is something that can actually be shared. I'm sure it sounds silly to someone who has a background in hard science and mathematics."

"I don't find it silly at all," he said. "Although, I admit I was almost as skeptical as Rob before your class started last night. I've spent two hours of my entire life exposed to what you live on a daily basis and I already feel better."

Andrea strained the tea into two cups and slid one across the bar to Dillon. "You're very open. I have a confession to make. You left your test behind last night. I saw it."

"I see. I didn't score a perfect ten."

"Pretty close," the corners of her lips twitched. "I believe things happen for a reason, Dillon. Where you are in your life right now had more to do with bringing you to my class than Kelly's nudge. I'm sure she saw something that made her believe you would be open to the experience, but all the pressure in the world from her wouldn't keep you in a class that made you feel uncomfortable."

Dillon reached across the granite countertop and curled his fingers over hers. "You're gonna think I'm nuts, but I felt something last night after class that I've never experienced before in my life, Andrea. We connected. I didn't imagine it, did I?"

She stared at their joined hands and shook her head. "You didn't imagine it."

"Does that make you unhappy?"

"No," she whispered.

"I'm not talking about sexual attraction," he said. "Although that is certainly part of it for me. It's the strangest thing." Dillon stroked the side of her hand with his thumb. His voice dipped low. "I was jealous tonight."

"You were?"

He nodded. "My partner left me, and I didn't get to feel that deep connection for very long. At the same time, watching you work... I felt so proud of you, Andrea. My partner is the guide for a lot of people embarking on this incredible, intimate journey."

Andrea gripped his fingers. "Two or three times over the years, I've had students who modeled poses with me, Dillon."

"I'm not —"

"Let me finish," the low, urgent whisper silenced him. "I never felt a connection like I did with you. I don't want you thinking that this is simply a normal reaction to sharing the basics of tantra with a complete stranger. It's not."

With his free hand, Dillon sipped the steaming brew. It tasted like Andrea — sweet and spicy and warm.

"Do you like it?"

Their eyes locked. "I think I could love it."

Without breaking the grip, Andrea moved around the bar. "Come sit with me."

Chapter 5

If she hadn't taught him how to breathe, Dillon was certain he would've hyperventilated. She pressed one hand to his shoulder in the middle of her pristine living room and silently urged him to sit. He watched her strip away her jeans before she wrapped long legs around his waist and sat so close that they experienced full body contact.

"Imagine a circle between us," she murmured. "It starts in your head and travels down your spine before it enters my body here." Andrea's hand slipped between them, between her legs. "It travels up my spine, to my head, carried on one breath, our breath."

A shiver passed between them. Dillon didn't have to imagine it — he felt the link binding them together. Without words to explain it, he understood her need to lead whatever might happen. What he felt was so intense, so all consuming, Dillon wasn't sure how to do anything but relinquish all control to her. It was wonderful, liberating, heart-stopping.

Andrea's hands roved up his back. One tickled and teased the blond hair at the nape of his neck. "How is it that you managed to come to class smelling like oranges tonight?"

Her sweet question dragged a delighted smile to his lips. "A very pricey cologne from Italy," he said. "Did you like it?"

"You did this for me?"

"Yes."

Andrea read the doubt in his eyes and soothed it away with her fingers ruffling through his hair. "My precious..."

Dillon's breath almost faltered.

"May I kiss you?"

Dillon nodded, unable to speak. She hovered over him for a second before she pressed soft lips against his mouth. Dillon moaned. He felt her chest expand with air and hold — his cue to exhale. It was damned impossible to concentrate on anything but the flesh gliding wetly over his mouth. His hands tightened at her back.

"Breathe, precious," she mumbled against his lips. Her tongue danced across his lower lip. "Follow my lead." Andrea's mouth opened and she sank into him in a slow dance between tongues and lips.

He didn't know how she did it, but the rhythm of her kiss matched her breathing perfectly. Five caresses, exhale, five more, inhale — he fell into the beat of the kiss. Heat scorched every cell in his body, a slow pleasant burn that settled in his thick cock nestled tightly between his confining clothing and her belly.

It could've been hours or seconds. Time suspended in her erotic kiss. "Closer," she whispered into his mouth, "I want to be closer, precious."

Unless she flayed him open and climbed inside his body, Dillon didn't know how it was possible. "Show me," he answered with low urgency. Following her lead suddenly became an aphrodisiac to his soul.

Andrea extricated herself from their embrace and rose. Her hand trembled when she reached toward him. "Come with me." She tugged him along behind her to the bedroom and let go only to light two candles on a bedside dresser. The flickering light illuminated the vulnerability in her violet eyes. Andrea sucked in a deep breath and pulled the form fitting tank she wore over her head. Had he really been critical of her breasts a short day ago? They were small, yes, but the perfectly round with dusky pink nipples made his mouth water. The natural gentle curve revealed perfect symmetry, not the artificially enhanced swell he thought he preferred until that moment.

She peeled the Lycra from her hips. He stopped breathing.

Dillon stood mesmerized, unable to do more than watch until she reached for the sticks that held her hair in place. "May I?"

"Yes."

He plucked them from the tight bun and watched the ebony cascade down her back. "Do you know how beautiful you are, Andrea?"

She didn't respond, reached for the hem of his tank top instead. Dillon raised his arms and let her smooth the soft fabric up his sculpted chest. Her fingers slipped inside the waist of his shorts, scorching him. He gritted his teeth against the urge to rip the rest of his clothes away and pounce on her.

Thankfully, she didn't tease. The restrictive clothing pooled at his ankles.

"Sit — in the middle," she murmured with a gesture over the bed.

He assumed the lotus position with liquid limbs. Andrea slowly descended into their mystical embrace. Dillon sighed at the sensation — her skin pressed tightly to his. Her hands roved over his slim waist and up his sides while her kiss eroded everything but the emotion licking like hot tendrils of passion from her into him. One hand anchored at the small of Andrea's back and moved in a slow circling grind. The other savored her silky hair through eager fingertips.

Her throaty moan aroused him more. Andrea pressed closer. The base of Dillon's hard shaft slid between the wet folds of her pussy. She tilted her pelvis and rubbed against him to the same beat as the kiss and the breath they shared.

Dillon lost all concept of reality. Intimacy burned between them. He suppressed a groan.

"Don't do that," she whispered. "Let me hear how you feel."

His low growl started deep, tightened his muscles before a constant purr replaced it. Andrea moaned, "Yes," into his mouth and continued rocking against him.

Ordinarily that level of arousal was painful without release. Dillon teetered on the precipice between pleasure and pain for longer than he'd ever done in his life. Andrea's slick heat glided against him as she rubbed her clit half way to the head of his cock and back down to the base. Her belly sparked friction against the rest.

He tore his lips away from hers and gasped, "You're gonna make me come."

Andrea stroked his cheek. "Look at me and let it go, precious."

After that, there was no turning back. Dillon's muscles contracted. His body shuddered while jets of cum spurted between their bodies. He wasn't finished when Andrea unwrapped her legs from his hips and pushed him back on the bed. Her hair blanketed his waist.

Dillon moaned again. Andrea's tongue lapped the fluid from his belly. She nibbled and teased his rippling abdomen until his cock strained again. He felt her smile against his flesh.

"Tell me what you want."

He groaned and stroked her head with great tenderness. "You," he rasped. "I want you."

Andrea climbed his chest and pressed his shoulders to the bed. "Tell me how you want me."

"I want to be inside you."

She arched her back and slid down. Dillon felt her body engulf him and gasped.

"Breathe, Dillon." She eased up and let him impale her deeply. Andrea moaned. "So big. I haven't done this for a very long time, precious."

He propped on one elbow and rose. "Let me taste you." He cupped her breast with one hand. Dillon's thumb flicked over the nipple and elicited another deep groan from her graceful throat. She leaned forward and offered her breast to his mouth. He opened to it and suckled her deep inside. His tongue rubbed the stiff peak in a slow circle.

Andrea's tight heat contracted. She cried out his name.

"That's one," he whispered, nibbling a path across her chest. His teeth gripped the tight bud gently while his tongue stabbed against it. She slid along the length of him with an urgent whimper. Dillon pulled her down to him and stilled her frantic movement. He rasped softly into her ear, "I want to taste your sweet pussy, baby. Will you let me?"

Andrea rolled off of him and spread her legs wide. Dillon grinned and followed. His eyes caressed her body. It glowed with sexual energy. His gaze settled on her swollen sex. A thin drizzle of sweet cream beckoned to his taste buds. Dillon lifted her hips to his mouth and lapped at the moisture before his tongue slithered over the dark pink flesh and nestled below her clit. His thumb and forefinger spread her wide. Dillon traced a slow circle around the aroused nubbin and drew another anguished moan from her throat. He opened his mouth and engaged in a deep French kiss on her most intimate place.

Her thighs wrapped around his head, quivered. Andrea shrieked his name and writhed as her orgasm ripped through her body. Dillon eased her hips to the bed and sank into her again. Her eyes popped open.

"Is this when we're supposed to breathe together again?"

Andrea's teeth clamped down on her lower lip. She nodded. Dillon set the pace with his cock and his kiss. Her throaty moans while her hands clutched his hips to pull him in deeper spiked his need. It took all his strength to hold back, to resist the urge to pound into her sweet pliant body until they crashed to an explosive finish.

"Look at me baby," he whispered.

Andrea's passion glazed eyes slit open. Fevered hands smoothed over Dillon's chest. She arched her back. "Now, Dillon. I need to feel you."

The crescendo built between them, full and tight. Dillon's hips snapped, pushed his thick cock deeper. Andrea dug her nails into his fleshy shoulders. She came hard, clamping down on him and milking another orgasm from Dillon.

"Christ," he hissed. Dillon collapsed on top of her, buried his lips in her fragrant hair. "Andrea...oh, baby..."

Her limbs wound around him. The ambient chill in the room swept over Dillon's sweat-slicked skin. He tried to rise.

"Stay," she whispered.

Dillon rose from the bed and carried her with him. He pulled the covers back and laid Andrea down. Her eyes were wide, filled with misapprehension until he slipped beneath the sheets with her. Facing each other on their sides, both fell into the deep breathing that started everything. Dillon traced the outline of her face with one finger.

"It's almost dawn," she whispered. "You should sleep."

"I can't miss class this morning." Time surprised him. A tiny grin ghosted across his lips. "All night, huh?"

Andrea kissed him. "You really are a natural."

His heart knew the difference. It wasn't technique or something just waiting for some patient woman to tap into — it was her. Dillon slid his thigh between her legs and hugged her. "Will we wake up by eight?"

"My alarm is set for seven-thirty."

Dillon drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep and didn't move until the chirping alarm woke him. His hands groped for Andrea. One eye cracked open. She was gone. He groaned, wishing with all his heart that he could find her and drag her back to the bed with him where they could spend the rest of the day engaged in more intimate exploration.

She was the first woman in years that made him want more, certainly the first since his move to Denver. The emptiness that made him ache for home, for old friends and familiar places retreated to a shadow in his heart. He smiled and stretched. The scent of her chai tea wafted into his nostrils.

He snatched his clothes from the floor and hastily dressed. Dillon found Andrea in the kitchen, her back toward the doorway, sipping tea and lost in thought. He moved behind her. Dillon's large hands splayed over her belly. "Good morning."

Andrea melted into the embrace. "Are you all right?"

"Wonderful," he nibbled at her neck.

"Dillon, I'm serious. What we did —"

"Was the most incredible experience of my life. No regrets, baby." His hands rubbed the silk of Andrea's robe against her flesh. "Can I see you later today?"

She stiffened. "Are you coming back to class?"

"I meant outside the gym. Of course I'll be in class tonight." When she held her posture tightly, he murmured, "Hey, if you need some space to process what happened last night, I'll be here when you're ready. I'm not gonna run away, Andrea."

Her hand curled up around his neck. "You're so wonderful, Dillon."

"Is that a bad thing?" He heard the wistful regret blanketing her compliment.

"I guess I'm afraid you're too good to be true."

"Then you'll figure it out in time, because I'm not going anywhere."

Andrea turned in his arms and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I have another class after ours tonight. Will you wait for me?"

"Absolutely."

Chapter 6

Andrea turned off the phones and sat in the middle of her living room in the lotus position. The drapes were pulled, the incense lighted. Soft candlelight flickered around her. She tuned out the world and focused on her heartbeat. Andrea hummed a brief mantra. Memories of Dillon flashed across her eyelids. Her doubts about his intentions bled away.

Dillon wasn't Sam. When Andrea slipped into the moment, spiraling out of control on a wave of sexual energy, it was Dillon who anchored her back to that sense of calm she needed to survive in life. Her heart swelled. Could he be the one who opened her emotions to the possibility of love again?

He was never the type of man that would've captured Andrea's attention under normal circumstances. Maybe that was part of the problem. Her track record — a single serious relationship — had ended with a tragic result. For three years (four if she counted India), Andrea packed up and moved on after Sam found her. And he kept following her. No matter where she went, Sam eventually showed up.

Andrea shivered. The car was old. Dillon was correct when he said it must've served her well over the years. Just because it wouldn't start didn't mean anything. Please don't let it mean anything. I'm so tired of starting over, making friends, losing them, not settling down anywhere out of fear.

She focused on her meditation and hoped that life in Denver would be different than the other places. She'd known a year of peace. It wasn't long enough.

*~*~*~*~*

It was just past one. Dillon pulled the vibrating phone off his belt clip and stared at the number. Familiarity tickled his consciousness. Where had he seen that number before? It wasn't Andrea — that one he memorized the second she murmured it into his ear and gave permission for him to call anytime.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Holbrook?"

"Yes."

"This is Tim Stevens — Scott's friend from the automotive garage."

"Oh, yeah! Hi Tim."

"I've been trying to get a hold of your friend, uh Andrea Witt, but I haven't had any luck reaching her."

"Did you get a chance to look at the car?" Dillon didn't wonder what she was doing. He needed more than a catnap after the night they shared. It was high on his agenda — just as soon as he could get back to his apartment.

"I did. I'm afraid I haven't got very good news."

"Oh?"

"It's odd, because other than a bit of excessive wear and tear on the vehicle's body, it seems like Ms. Witt has taken very good care of it."

"What's wrong?"

"It's the engine. I'm afraid it's damaged beyond repair. I'm not sure how it happened, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say vandalism."

"What on earth?"

"There's major damage, all sorts of corrosion. If I didn't know better, I'd say someone poured sea water into her gas tank. Since we're landlocked, I don't know how that would be possible."

"Yeah," Dillon rubbed his temple with one hand. "Is there any way that you could figure out what caused the damage? I mean for sure?"

"We could drain the gas tank, look for anything obvious like glass or sand, but honestly, Mr. Holbrook, those things are annoyances, but they don't destroy engines. It would cost a hell of a lot of money to figure out what caused the damage. I can't see how it would be worth the expense."

"How long ago would something like that take to ruin her engine?"

"Not long. If this was sabotage, it would've happened since she refilled the tank last time. I can look around and see if I can get my hands on a solid engine for her, but I'm not sure she wants to make that kind of an investment in such an old model. She'd probably be better off sinking the cash into a down payment on something else. Problem is, I'm not sure what to do since I can't seem to get a hold of her."

"Can you wait a day or so to talk to her? I mean... she's got a class tonight, and I'll see her then, but your shop will be closed before her class starts."

"No problem, Mr. Holbrook. Just have her give me a call as soon as she can."

Dillon slipped his cell back into the clip on his belt. Andrea was probably sleeping. She was teaching several classes — from three until nine. He glanced at his watch. If she planned to walk to work, she might leave early enough to be awake by now — or very soon. Seeing her again so soon made his pulse race. Would she mind if he stopped over without calling?

"Screw it," he muttered. He started the engine on the truck and drove to her house. When Andrea flung open the front door, he sucked in a deep breath.

"Dillon... what are you doing here?"

He grinned. "Sorry to just pop over like this, but the guy from the garage called me. He said he's been trying to reach you all day."

Andrea touched two fingers to her forehead. "I was meditating this morning and shut all the phones off, forgot to turn them back on. Is my car fixed already?"

Dillon winced. "Well..."

"Is it bad? Come in — can I get you some tea?"

Her long legs were bare. Andrea wore revealing running shorts and a tight tank-top. Dillon licked his lips and remembered how her last invitation for tea ended. "Love some."

"I planned to leave for the gym in about half an hour. You know, time to run, shower and change before my first class. What did the mechanic tell you?"

"You should probably call him, Andrea. I'm sure he can explain it better than I can."

She poured a cup of tea and handed it to him. "Are you exhausted?"

"The thought of taking a nap occurred to me once or twice this morning. Did you get any rest after I left?"

"I meditated for a couple of hours. You look tired." Her hand stroked down the front of his dress shirt. "Were you at the high school late today?"

"Uh-huh. I had a meeting with the principle about how my delinquent students are progressing. Fortunately, I had good news. They all passed the homework assignment I gave yesterday. Everybody's happy." He paused and peered at her intently. "At least I hope everybody is happy."

She smiled. "I can't speak for everyone, but I know I'm happy."

Dillon sipped his tea. "It's blistering hot out there today. Are you sure you want to run to work? I don't mind playing chauffer while you figure out what to do with the car."

"Speaking of which, I should call your friend."

"Scott's friend, but yeah, you should talk to him."

He watched Andrea's reaction closely while Tim gave her the bad news. Her face remained closely guarded.

"I see. And you're sure that this was nothing that I did wrong? Some sort of maintenance failure?" Andrea turned her back to Dillon. "No, I guess there's no point in trying to salvage it. I don't have that kind of money to spend to fix it this time."

Dillon absorbed her words. This time?

"Well yes. Three years ago someone did quite a bit of damage to the body with a baseball bat. That was in the Tampa area. About eight months later in Raleigh I had to replace two of the rims that were bent after someone used a crowbar on them. In the spring of last year, someone in Dallas doused the hood with gasoline and lit it like a barbecue. But the police in all those cases felt they were random — well yes, I told them about the other incidents."

Concern rippled through Dillon hearing it. He moved behind Andrea, slipped his arm around her waist and hugged her close to him.

"I see." She nodded. "Yes, I keep my car in the garage, but I can't do that while I'm at work, Mr. Stevens."

Andrea laced the fingers of one hand through Dillon's. "No," she said, "I'm not frightened. Don't worry about that. I'm in good hands. If you think it's important, I'll talk to security at the gym and see if anyone saw anything this week. I can tell you that the police aren't going to do anything unless someone witnessed a crime."

Fear gripped Dillon's heart. He nuzzled her neck, kissed her collar bone.

"I would appreciate that so much, Mr. Stevens. Thank you again for your help." Andrea hung up the phone. "I think that car must have some bad karma."

"Sweetheart, what I heard you telling Tim sounds like more than bad luck. Did the police have any idea who vandalized your car all those times?"

She shook her head and retreated. "It's just a car. I'll get another one. There's that used car place over on Havana near 6th Avenue. They're bound to have something that won't cost an arm and a leg."

"It might not be as reliable as something new."

"Speaking of luck," she muttered, "I'm not pushing mine."

"What was that?"

Andrea shook her head. "Nothing important. Is that offer for Dillon's taxi service still available?" She forced a bright smile.

"Of course."

"Maybe you could drive me over to that dealership tomorrow after school."

"Absolutely."

Her smile faltered. "I'll have to cancel some appointments I had for tomorrow morning. Most of them can be rescheduled."

"Nonsense," Dillon erased the space between them and tugged her back into his arms. "I'll be at school all morning. You can drop me off and use my truck."

"I couldn't do that."

"I insist."

"But what if something happens to your truck while I've got it?"

"Nothing is gonna happen, Andrea. I'm done at eleven. You can pick me up and we'll have a nice lunch before we go to the dealership to get something to replace your car. In the meantime, I'll drive you to and from work today." His index finger planted over her lips. "No arguments. It's too hot to run today, and I'm not letting you out alone in the city at night."

Dillon smoothed the wrinkle between her eyebrows with his thumb.

"You're reading way more into this business with my car than you should, Dillon."

"And you forget that mathematics is my specialty."

"I don't follow."

"Do you know what the statistical probability of your vehicle being vandalized in four different cities is?"

"It always happened while I was at work," she said. "And I shouldn't have to tell you that gymnasiums aren't always in the safest parts of town, Dillon. I always try to have an escort out of the building here, and I promise you, this is the nicest place I've ever worked."

Dillon tilted her chin up and kissed her. "From now on, you'll have an escort from work all the way home. I couldn't forgive myself if —"

"I'm perfectly safe. You can't rearrange your entire life around my schedule. I wouldn't want that. As far as this afternoon goes, you look so tired. Why don't you go home and rest before class tonight? I've certainly run longer distances on hotter days."

"Andrea —"

"Trust me. You'll be glad you got some sleep later tonight."

"You promise to let me bring you home tonight?"

"I promise."

Chapter 7

It was Friday before Andrea found a car she was willing to buy. Dillon admired her tenacity, not settling for less than exactly what she wanted within her price range. Part of him wished she hadn't found something suitable so quickly. He would miss escorting her home every night after class.

Five days completely changed his life. Dillon couldn't remember what it was like before he met her and couldn't imagine a single day without seeing her smile and hearing her sweet voice. There hadn't been a repeat of Tuesday night's explosive lovemaking — yet. Oddly, he felt no sense of urgency. It was enough to hold her, to breathe with her, to feel her taut body curled into his while they slept at night.

His anxiety during that long hour when Andrea taught one last class before leaving the gym abated. Dillon no longer feared that she would change her mind about seeing him. Her lilac gaze sparkled when she looked into his eyes. They touched frequently — a caress to an arm, fingers knotted together, shoulders brushing. It was as if they'd been together for years, settled comfortably into a natural rhythm between two people completely in sync.

She didn't teach a late yoga class on Monday or Friday but shooed him off for an hour anyway. "I need to do this, even if I'm not teaching the class, Dillon."

"Can't I stay and watch?" Dillon's teeth grazed her neck.

"You distract me. I'd rather wait until we can focus all of our attention on each other. I'm sure all the other guys are wondering why they haven't seen you around all week. We've got the whole weekend ahead of us."

Dillon grinned. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"No alarm clocks."

"No nine o'clock algebra classes."

"No instructor duties."

"I'm supposed to have dinner with Kelly and Scott Saturday night." Dillon played with her fingers. "Will you come with me?"

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Oh much worse. Technically it's not the same as taking you home to meet my family since you already know Kell, but she doesn't know about us, Andrea. I don't want this to be a secret. Not from her."

Andrea walked him to the door and nudged him through it. "We can talk about it later, after my private yoga session and your weight lifting thing. Go. The longer you loiter, the later it will be before we can go home."

Dillon didn't go to the weight room. He didn't manage to stay away from her much longer than half an hour either. He slipped back into the yoga room and locked the door. Andrea was in the same pose he'd interrupted Monday night when he returned to confront her. It looked like the quintessential gymnast pose — the splits — only instead of stretching out across the floor, Andrea achieved the same position standing.

He licked his lips. Watching her limber movements sparked more than his libido. Dillon moved toward her and kissed the arch of her foot. His hands roved over the extended limb, across the shapely calf and down her thigh.

"Dillon..."

"Don't move." His fingers danced over her clothed sex. "Mmm... you're so warm." Dillon buried his nose between her legs and mouthed a kiss across the Lycra.

Andrea groaned. "You're gonna make me fall on my head."

Dillon eased the extended leg to the floor and righted her. Their eyes met in a sizzling gaze. "Will you do something for me when we get home?"

She nodded. "If I can."

His lips grazed the shell of her ear. "I want you to do that pose for me — naked."

Andrea melted against him. "Seriously?"

"Oh yeah. Unless you're not feeling up to it tonight." Dillon anchored her hips in his hands. "Only what you want, baby."

Her hands molded to the muscular chest. "When I talked about partners sharing everything, I meant it, Dillon. I don't want to take the lead every time we're intimate."

She used her words carefully — which Dillon noticed. It tugged his mouth down at the corners. Couldn't she call it what it was? Sure it had only been five days, but the intensity he felt... Too soon. Don't get ahead of yourself, Dillon. There's still so much we don't know about each other yet.

"Did I say something wrong?" Andrea stepped out of the circle of his arms.

"No, no. I just..."

Andrea blushed and stared at the floor. "I'm sorry. That sounded presumptuous, didn't it? I didn't mean to imply that this will continue after the class ends."

"Is that what you want?" Dillon's mood turned downright sullen.

"We haven't really talked about it. I don't want you to feel pressured. I mean...the class has sort of forced an intimacy between us, and I don't want you to think that I expect you to still feel that when we aren't...well, together in class every night."

He cupped her chin, lifted it until their eyes met. "Is that what you want, the class ends and I just walk away?"

"No, but —"

"I don't want that either, Andrea. You're right about one thing. We haven't talked about this. So I'll say it right now. Unless you want this to end, I have no intention of walking away. Not tomorrow, not next week when the class ends and not any time in the foreseeable future."

Andrea rose to the tips of her toes and kissed him. "In that case, I think we feel the same way."

"Get your bag. We'll drop the car off at your house. You're coming home with me tonight," Dillon said.

She purred softly. "I'd love that...being in your space instead of mine."

"If I wasn't worried about your car being targeted again, I'd suggest we leave it. Let's get out of here. I want to be alone with you, Andrea."

"Where's your bag?"

"Men's locker. Meet me out front?"

She kissed him again and whispered, "Hurry."

*~*~*~*~*

Heather was at the front desk when Andrea entered the lobby. She stood by Bobby West's prized aquarium that housed his giant lion fish and stared out the glass front of the gym. Most of the people at the gym weren't particularly friendly to Andrea or the other yoga instructor. Of all of them, Heather was downright hostile.

"So nobody dropped any of your classes this week, huh, Andrea?" she sneered.

She turned toward the buxom blonde. "No."

"That surprises me. You've got at least one real man in the class. I can't believe he'd find all that mumbo-jumbo necessary. I mean, the fat, lazy married guys sure — they probably can't manage to satisfy their wives. But Dillon Holbrook? You know he's gone out with a bunch of girls from the gym, right? They had no complaints about his performance."

Andrea turned away.

"It's that spiritual stuff that I find weird," Heather continued. "Fucking is fucking. If I want religion, I can go to church."

Andrea felt her face heating. She stared at the floor. Tendrils of doubt strangled the breath from her lungs. Was this one of the women Dillon dated? Heather had always been unfriendly toward Andrea. Tonight held no deeper edge.

"I think the guys who run this place shouldn't let you teach your cultish little class. I mean, what are you? A yoga chick or a preacher?"

Dillon strode through the front lobby. "Good night," he uttered with a dismissive nod to social nicety.

"See ya 'round, Dillon," she gushed.

He held the door for Andrea. "Hey...what's wrong?"

Andrea shook her head.

"Not nothing. You look upset."

She looked up at him. "Is Heather one of them?"

"One of whom?"

Andrea's voice dropped to a pained whisper. "One of half the women at the gym that you've dated."

He sobered instantly. Andrea read his expression before his words hit. "Did she say something to you, Andrea?"

"How many of your girlfriends are —"

"I never went out with her." Dillon cursed softly and raked one hand through his hair. "I might've exaggerated how many women I've gone out with out here, Andrea. There have been a few — not half of them. And they're usually the ones who hang out in the weight room."

"You're still seeing them?"

"Not in the way you mean. Do I occasionally bump into them coming or going? Sure — but only if I'm careless and show up to work out during peak hours, which I stopped doing long before I met you."

Andrea hurried to her car. Dillon matched her step. His fingers curled around her arm. "Hey...talk to me."

"Would you have stayed in my class if I hadn't slept with you?" Andrea's arms wrapped around herself, a gesture of protection. She expected a lie, wondered if she could tell the difference between the truth and what he wanted her to believe.

"Yeah, I already made that decision before we — Andrea, this class has been the best thing that ever happened to me, not just because I met you. It's helping me feel calm and... I told you about my kids at school."

She ducked her head. "I think maybe I should just go home. You understand, right?"

"No. No I don't understand. Five minutes ago, we were talking and I thought we were on the same page. Now you act like you can't get away from me fast enough. What the hell did that idiot say to you?"

Tears spiked her sable eyelashes. Andrea blinked them away. "Nothing."

"Look at me and tell me the truth."

Her eyes fixed on the pavement separating them. Dillon lifted her chin again.

"Baby, talk to me."

"She...she said a man like you didn't need my class, that none of your girlfriends at the gym ever complained." Andrea watched his jaw start ticking after he absorbed her words. His eyes shot blue sparks.

"Is that it?"

"She said that my class is a cult."

"I see."

"Dillon —"

"No."

"No?"

He turned around and took three long strides toward the building before Andrea realized what he planned to do. She dashed after him and grabbed his arm. "Dillon, don't do this!"

"Don't put that vicious little —"

"She's not worth it."

"No, she isn't, but you are. Did it occur to you that I started avoiding certain times at the gym because I realized that I was nothing more to these women than a slab of prime rib they wanted to sample? How long do you think it took me to realize that they delight in getting together to compare notes? Do you think I enjoyed having the guys give me hell about the size and girth of my..." He gritted his teeth.

Andrea gasped.

"And for months, I've walked around hating my life, going through the motions like a fucking robot, Andrea. I missed being home. Don't get me wrong, I love my sister, but I hated myself for letting her talk me into moving here. I wanted to be back with my friends, with people who understood me. I was never gonna find that here. I've been saving money like crazy so I can go back to my old life. Never mind that it would break Kell's heart or that I had no idea how to tell her that I can't live here anymore."

"Dillon, I'm sorry."

He grasped her shoulders. "I'm not sorry. Do you know why? Because I met you, and I realized that not everybody out here is a superficial, life sucking vampire intent on draining every ounce of happiness from my soul."

She stepped close and wrapped her arms around him. "Precious..."

"I won't let that horrible woman hurt you. I won't let her hurt us," he whispered.

"Don't go back in there, Dillon. Let's go home. She wins if you confront her. She'll know she hurt both of us. Please...take me home with you."

"Are you sure?"

Andrea gripped his hand and led him back to her car. "I'm sure, Dillon. Follow me home. I'll pack a few things for tomorrow, and we'll spend the weekend together like we planned."

"If you need to be alone —"

"I need to be with you."

Dillon tilted her face up and kissed her deeply. "I need to be with you too. I'll be right behind you." His eyes roved across the parking lot to the gym and locked with Heather's. She stood at the window watching them. He struggled to bury the intense anger he felt.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, baby. Go home and pack that overnight bag."

"You're coming right away, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he muttered. "You're right. None of these people here are worth the aggravation."

Andrea's hands trembled all the way to her house. She closely watched the headlights trailing her car. Dillon's anger was unexpected. It seemed too deep for Heather's unkind comments to be the catalyst.

She waited for Dillon before going inside to pack her bag. Whatever mood sparked in the yoga room was gone. Dillon paced while she packed. He wore tension in the corded muscles of his shoulders and neck.

"Let me carry that," he murmured when she hefted the bag off the bed.

"Dillon, if you need to be alone to think about...whatever...I understand," Andrea said.

Dillon pulled her close and plucked the barrette from the back of her head. "What I need is to hold you. I need to feel that incredible connection we both found. You do feel it, don't you Andrea?"

"Yes."

"Come home with me. Wrap me up in cinnamon and sweetness and you."

She smiled. "Would you like me to bring some tea along?"

"I'm stocked."

"With chai?"

"I went out and bought some Wednesday. I'm gonna have to get you to show me how to brew it properly. I tried yesterday afternoon and it tasted awful."

She sat close to him while he drove home, surprised when his apartment wasn't part of a complex. Denver was full of apartment communities. Dillon's building looked like an old office building. He pulled out a key and unlocked a side door. Inside the empty corridor was a winding staircase.

"All the way up," he said.

Andrea's eyes widened when he unlocked another door on the top floor and opened it. "It's enormous, Dillon."

"Yeah, don't get too excited. I'm renting from Scott's father. I could never afford a place like this on what I make teaching high school." He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. "I'd offer the grand tour, but this is pretty much it. As lofts go, there isn't much to break up the living space."

"Minimalist," her fingers ran along the back of Dillon's sofa. "Lots of straight lines and sharp angles, nothing to distract from the brick walls and hardwood floors. It's beautiful."

"It's cold, not nearly as warm and inviting as your home."

She smiled. "It's neat and logical. Whether you own the place or not, Dillon, it has your imprint all over it. I like it very much."

Dillon tugged her hand and drew her behind him across the open space behind a false wall. His bed was large and covered with a thick white comforter. He flicked one wrist and drew it back. "Come to bed with me."

"No yoga first?"

"I guess the mood passed. Could we talk instead?" Dillon started peeling away his clothing. He folded his jeans and laid them on a chair. The shirt followed.

"Of course."

Minutes later, they were snuggled close with legs entwined. Dillon started the familiar breathing exercise. Andrea smiled. "You really like it, don't you?"

"It soothes me. You soothe me. C'mon...let's do this. I need to feel connected to you right now."

"Imagine the thread connecting us."

His hand stroked her cheek. "Already feeling it."

They settled into the warm cocoon of intimacy. Dillon's eyes welled with tears.

"Tell me," she whispered. "You can trust me, Dillon. Whatever it is..."

"I loved a girl once."

"Only once?"

He nodded. "I'm not talking about sex. Kell says I was too young to really know what love was, but I loved her."

"What happened?"

"For two years, we talked and shared our deepest secrets. One day I went to school and saw her with another guy. They were making out by his locker."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

"Oh precious..."

"You think it wasn't love, just like Kelly."

"No, of course not."

"It's crazy to be hung up on something like that all these years later. I mean, I'm 32 years old, and I still feel like every woman I meet is just like Emily."

"We aren't."

"The ones I've known have been. Kell doesn't understand why I never let anybody get close to me. She doesn't know."

"She doesn't know what Emily did to you?"

"That's not what I meant. She doesn't believe it was possible for me to love somebody that much, Andrea. I was a kid. What could I possibly know?"

"What did you do?"

"After I saw her with that jock?"

Andrea's eyebrows drew together. She had a hard time imagining Dillon as anything but what he described the interloper in his relationship with Emily was. "Yeah."

"Nothing. I walked away. What could I say? She obviously wasn't satisfied with what I had to offer."

"Were you sexually active with her?"

"Not yet. I guess in hindsight, I'm pretty grateful that things didn't go that far with her. I wanted to die as it was."

"Was that when your habit of very brief relationships with women started?"

Dillon nodded. "Pretty pathetic, huh?"

"Not at all. But Dillon, why did you tell me about her?"

He broke eye contact. "I guess I thought you'd understand."

Andrea wasn't sure she did. Was he saying that Emily would always be the woman who had his heart? She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "We should sleep."

Chapter 8

Dillon flung his arm over his eyes to block the bright morning light. Heavy in sleep, it didn't register that it was too early for southern sun exposure to his building. One hand groped the bed beside him. Cold crisp sheets startled his sense of touch. One eye cracked open. What Dillon thought of as a false wall was a sliding partition, a Japanese wall with paper panes that separated the bedroom area from the rest of the open loft. The brilliant light came from the living room, shining through the milky paper.

He rose on one elbow and gasped softly.

Andrea's silhouette was visible through the thin barrier separating them. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and stared at her graceful movements as she stretched and twisted her body into various positions.

Dillon glanced at the digital clock by the bed. Four-seventeen. He flipped back the bedding and crept around the wall. Andrea's hair snaked down her back in a thick braid. Her creamy white skin accentuated the black silken cord of hair. He watched her bend, flatten her chest along her stiff leg and raise the other high above her body.

He groaned. It was the pose that had painted such vivid fantasy in his mind. Dillon was drawn to her, like a bewitched man to his siren's song. One hand smoothed over the extended limb. "Beautiful," he murmured.

Andrea held the pose in spite of the muscles that leapt beneath his touch. Dillon's fingers slid between her legs, separating her throbbing sex. She was wet, slick and if he looked closely, Dillon would swear he could see steam rising from the heated flesh. He dipped one long finger into the tight channel.

She moaned softly when Dillon swirled it around. He withdrew and sucked it into his mouth. "You taste like heaven, and I can't get enough." Dillon buried his face in her essence. His tongue made deep thrusts into her wet heat.

"Dillon, Dillon," she gasped. Andrea's legs trembled with the effort it took to maintain her yoga pose.

He braced her body with his large hands and continued to tongue fuck her. Vibrations from his throat traveled up, transmitted to Andrea through his greedy tongue. Her body stiffened around the muscle. Her leg buckled.

Dillon caught her over one arm and scooped her up before she could hit the floor. Her breath came in choppy bursts. "Easy..." Dillon chanted the word into her ear. "You're so beautiful, Andrea. You're my fantasy, everything I've ever dreamed love could be."

Andrea's fingers sifted through his hair, down the side of his face. "Emily?" she whispered.

"Emily who?" Dillon folded Andrea over the back of the sofa and entered her from behind. He pushed into her deeply and wrung another deep groan from Andrea's throat. Dillon set an excruciating rhythm, withdrawing to the tip before grinding against her again. She whimpered, fingers clutching the soft cushions on the sofa in desperation.

"Let it go, baby," he urged. "Come for me."

"Not...not without you," she rasped.

Dillon pulled out and swept her into his arms again. Andrea wound her legs around his hips as his cock slid deep a second time. Their mouths melded together, open and wet. Tongues flashed between them. Blindly, Dillon carried her back to the bed. He sat on the edge and grasped Andrea's braid in his hand. A gentle tug pulled her head back. He ate a path down her throat, nipping with teeth and soothing with lips and tongue.

Andrea shuddered.

He arched her back over his arm and clasped a nipple between his teeth. Dillon's free hand cupped the slight swell of flesh and kneaded it gently. Her wet heat engulfed him, pulsing in a tight contraction when she came again. Her fingers dug into the corded muscle padding his shoulders.

Dillon pulled back and peered at her. Andrea's lips were wet, slightly parted. Her violet eyes cracked open, glazed with ecstasy. Soft breath wheezed from her arched throat. She was so beautiful Dillon wished he could stop time forever in that moment.

He rose and laid her on the bed. Dillon lay beside her, half covering her body with his. He flipped the covers over them before her sweat slicked flesh could chill.

Andrea caressed his cheek with a limp hand. "Did you...?"

"Not yet," he grinned. "I'm in no hurry to rush this."

Her eyes fluttered shut. "You asked me the other night why anyone would want to slow down the finish."

Dillon pressed his lips to her temple. "I get it now. You were wrong, Andrea."

"I was?"

"There's no way I could've figured it out on my own. I needed you to understand the answer to that question. Thank you."

Andrea gazed at him. Insecurity flitted through her expressive eyes. "Lesson over?"

"Maybe."

"Oh."

"Or it was the first in a whole lot of lessons I have yet to learn." Dillon nibbled at her lips. "Like that healing thing you mentioned Monday night."

"Is that why you told me about Emily?"

Dillon nodded. "My sister will never believe that I loved her as much as I did, Andrea. I thought you would understand."

"I'm not sure I do."

"I loved who she was. Yeah, we were kids, and our relationship didn't progress farther than kisses and handholding. That didn't make what I felt any less."

"You're very sensitive, aren't you?"

"I —." Dillon clamped his mouth shut and frowned. He thought of her question about yin and yang and understanding feminine aspects men possessed.

"It's not a bad thing. In fact, understanding that about you makes all of this make more sense." Her fingers danced along the ridges of muscles on his chest. "It's armor, isn't it? People look at you and they see the toughness, not the man inside who feels everything deeply."

"I never thought about it that way."

"How did it start — the bodybuilding?"

Dillon shrugged one shoulder. "I thought maybe it was why she left me. I was this gangly tall kid, all arms and legs and clumsy, the math genius nerd."

"I have a hard time imagining you that way."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Come to dinner with me tonight. Kell would be delighted to drag out her photo albums and scrap books and offer photographic evidence."

"Were you serious about that?"

A solemn nod was his answer.

"You're twins, right? I think she mentioned that not long after I met her."

"She is two minutes older than I am. What can I say? I was a gentleman from the womb and insisted she go first."

"Kelly told me you're the only family she's got left — beside Scott and Chelsea, I mean."

Dillon nodded. "Our mother died in childbirth. We never knew her. Dad promptly deposited us on his mother's doorstep after we left the hospital. Grams raised us. She was eighty when she died three years ago."

"And you and Kelly were always close?"

"Yeah," a smile softened his face. "We used to imagine these elaborate reasons why our father bailed on us. I thought he was a spy for the government. James Bond. Kelly said he was probably mad that she wasn't a boy because they're easier to raise than girls. The truth wasn't anything so creative."

"You know where he is?"

"Pinecrest Cemetery in Upstate New York. He died of cirrhosis long before Grams did. He was a worthless drunk, a gambler who pissed away everything he had before he died."

"You two were lucky to have Grams."

"Yeah," Dillon nodded. "She was tough. I always wondered how she could be so wonderful raising us but fail so completely with our father."

"People make choices, Dillon."

"I guess so." He paused for another brief kiss. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Your parents, your childhood... I want to know everything about you."

"I suppose they're still living in San Francisco. That's where they were the last time we spoke."

"You're estranged."

"It's not as bad as it sounds. I grew up there — an only child with two loving parents. They didn't always understand the decisions I made, but always supported my right to choose."

"As in the famed woman's right to choose?"

"No," Andrea smiled. "I meant abandoning the career choices I had in kinesiology to immerse myself in yoga. I lived in India for almost a year."

"Really?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"A little. What made you come back?"

"I was homesick, I suppose."

"How long has it been since you've seen your parents?"

"Three years," Andrea said. "I didn't intend to stay away for so long or to lose touch with them. Time has a way of slipping away before you realize it. And then so much of it has passed, you're not really sure what to say."

"You could start by picking up the phone and saying I'm happy and healthy. Please don't worry about me."

"I can't take that cha —" Andrea clamped her mouth shut. "Maybe I'll do that one of these days."

"Does Sam have anything to do with why you've stayed away from your family?"

Her eyes widened. "Who told you about Sam?"

"You."

"I never —"

"You mentioned his name the night we met, Andrea. You said he hurt you."

"Sam was my husband."

Dillon's muscles seized.

"That shocked you, huh?"

"How did he hurt you?"

Andrea shook her head. "It's ancient history. The marriage barely lasted long enough to count, Dillon. My life is good now, happier here in Denver than I can ever remember it being."

"How brief exactly?" Dillon felt the tension coiling around every fiber in his body.

"Two years. I was right out of college. I tried to make it work, but when the genuine effort is only one-sided, it isn't enough. So I filed for divorce and moved to India."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

"Are you jealous?"

"Maybe a little bit."

Andrea's fingertips caressed his lips. "Don't be jealous of Sam. What I came to understand was that I didn't really love him, Dillon. I loved the idea of him. He loved my limber body."

"That doesn't help the jealousy," he growled. Dillon's hands curled around her possessively.

"I have a confession."

"What?" His forehead wrinkled in wary anticipation.

"I was jealous too, last night when Heather... when I thought that maybe she was one of the women you..."

"You don't have to worry about any of them," Dillon said. "I didn't feel connected to anyone the way I feel with you. Besides," he added with a grin, "tonight officially makes you more than a one night stand."

"Were you worried?"

"No," his gaze met hers and held. "This was so unexpected, Andrea."

"I've never had an affair with a student before."

"That doesn't surprise me," he grinned. "I've never had an affair with an instructor either. Then again, this isn't an affair."

"No?"

Dillon slowly shook his head before claiming her lips again.

Chapter 9

"Did you make enough to feed a platoon of starved ration-fed soldiers?"

"Don't give up your day job, Dilly."

"I'm serious," he spoke softly into the phone. Andrea was in the bathroom showering. He ached to join her but knew better than to show up for dinner without warning Kelly to set an extra place at the dinner table.

"There will be plenty of leftovers for you to haul home."

"Can you set an extra place at the table?"

He listened to her skeptical pause.

"Kell?"

"Would this be for one of the cretins from the gym?"

"She's definitely not a cretin."

"A date?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I do have them on occasion."

"Yeah, but you haven't brought one home for dinner since that girl in eighth grade. What was her name? The slutty one you thought you loved..."

"Just answer the question."

"I'll set an extra place. So who is she?"

"You'll meet her at dinner."

"Is it serious?"

"Kell..."

"Sorry. It's been such a long time since you've dated someone more than once." Her frown rippled across the line. "Do not tell me that you're bringing some strange woman to my house for her first and last date with you, Dillon."

"I'm not. As for the rest, you'll have to trust me. I think you'll like her." He knew Kelly already liked Andrea. Perversely, he kept her identity to himself. It would serve Kelly right after the stunt she pulled — one for which he was eternally grateful.

"You're not giving me much warning. I've got baby stuff all over the house, Dilly."

"I'm sure she won't mind."

"Which is Dillon-speak for stupid bimbo who doesn't know the difference between a properly kept house and living in squalor, right?"

"You sound like Grams when you talk like that."

Kelly fell silent again.

"Sorry."

"You haven't mentioned her since the day we buried her, Dillon. What's really going on with you?"

"Do you want me to bring anything?"

"You're avoiding my question."

"We could do movie night after dinner," he tried temptation. "I could get one of those sappy chick-flicks you love so much."

"This is only making me more suspicious."

"We'll bring the movie — and a nice bottle of wine. You set an extra place at the table and try not to behave like the overprotective big sister for once in your life. I don't want you scaring this one off."

Kelly snorted. "Like I ever have had the opportunity to do that. I'll behave — provided she has manners and doesn't talk about breast implants at dinner. As amusing as Scott might find that, I can't guarantee that I won't toss her out on her floatation devices."

Dillon laughed heartily. Kell would eat those words the second she opened the door and saw his date.

"She's not a vegetarian, is she?"

"I honestly don't know." They hadn't progressed beyond chai and pastry. "I can ask her if you want."

"Don't you dare! There's plenty of rabbit food if she is."

"See you in an hour." Dillon hung up the phone. Two slender arms wrapped around his waist.

He turned. Andrea was swimming in his thick, terrycloth robe. "Mmm... you look good enough to eat."

She wagged a finger in front of him. "None of that. We'll miss dinner."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to do that," Dillon grinned.

"You should've told her who you're bringing."

"Nah, I owe her this one. I can't wait to see the look on her face when she opens the door."

"Do I have much time to get ready? I heard you tell her we're bringing wine and a movie."

"I've got plenty of wine. We've got all sorts of time."

Andrea backed out of the embrace she initiated. "I know from experience how quickly we lose track of time."

"It's your fault."

"Mine?"

"You're the one who taught me the joy of prolonging sex." He stalked toward her as she retreated. "Can I help it that you've created a monster?"

Andrea shrieked and ran.

*~*~*~*~*

They were twenty minutes late. Dillon played with her braid while he waited for Kelly to answer the door. "You look beautiful." He kissed her bare shoulder.

"Don't start that again."

Dillon grinned. His back faced the door, shielding Andrea from the eyes he felt watching them through the peep hole.

"Dilly?" The front door whooshed open. "You're late —"

Kelly's chastisement died on her lips. Her eyes widened when Andrea stepped beside Dillon.

"Oh my God."

"I believe you know my date," he grinned.

She balled her fist and punched him in the chest. "You're a real bastard."

"What's that make you, sis?"

Kelly burst out laughing. "Scott's gonna kill you."

"Why?"

"Because I've had him running around here for the last hour tidying up all the baby clutter out of fear that your date would be an utter snob. Get in here." Kelly reached past him and clasped Andrea's hand. "I've missed you," she pulled her friend into a hug. "When did this happen? How did this happen?"

"Like you don't know," Dillon snorted. "It was that class, that blasted Christmas present that started the whole thing."

"Well duh," she said. "That doesn't tell me how."

Dillon tugged Andrea back to his side. "Maybe that's a little too personal, Kell. Can't you just be happy that we're happy?"

Her face melted into a dreamy smile. "Of course you are. Oh, I'm so thrilled about this. Come in — Scott," she yelled.

"I raise my voice above a whisper and she's chewing my ass for disturbing the baby," Dillon muttered.

"She's with Scott's parents tonight. This is date night."

"Ah, old married couple lingo for nookie night," Dillon teased.

Scott appeared in the living room, looking harried and a little wild. "Hey Dillon — Andrea? She's your date?"

"Don't sound so shocked, Scott."

"But it is shocking. She's...normal."

Dillon bristled. "I happen to think she's rather extraordinary, Scott."

"I didn't mean it that way. Andrea's a normal person, not some empty headed —"

"Scott!"

"Well it's the truth. I was starting to think Dillon didn't like intelligent girls capable of conversation." He paused and exaggerated a comical expression. "On second thought, maybe we should be worried that Andrea's got some sort of head injury."

"I'm gonna kick your ass, old man," Dillon growled.

Andrea laughed softly and slipped away from his side. "Can I help you with anything Kelly? We can catch up while the alpha males battle it out."

Dillon's eyes trailed after her.

"So it's serious, huh?"

He grinned at Scott. "We've known each other for a week. Not even a week."

"But you brought her home to Kelly. It's gotta be serious."

"It's new," Dillon said. "I wasn't willing to leave her sitting home alone while I was over here having a good time getting grilled by you and Kell."

"You could've cancelled with us tonight," Scott chuckled softly.

"Have you met your wife? She's the world's biggest nag. I'd have never heard the end of it. What's more important than spending time with your family, Dilly? You moved all the way out here to be closer to me and then avoid me. You know exactly how she would've reacted to that."

"Then you would've preferred staying home with Andrea tonight."

"Yeah," Dillon grinned. "I would've preferred it by far."

*~*~*~*~*

Kelly gripped Andrea's arm. "What happened?"

"After I called you Monday night, he came back to the gym and confronted me."

"And from this he brings you as his date to dinner? C'mon, Andrea. I know my brother better than that. He hasn't done this...well, ever. Are you really seeing each other?"

Andrea blushed. "You could say that."

"Oh my God. Oh my God!"

"Please don't make a big deal of this. We've spent some time together outside of class. He's a very sweet, sensitive man."

"Of course he is. I've known this for years, Andrea. I also suspected that the two of you would hit it off if I could ever convince either one of you to agree to meeting. After what happened Monday night, I was afraid he'd never forgive either one of us."

"I didn't mean to ambush him."

"Of course you didn't. All the same, I'm glad it happened. That boy needed a jolt. He's obviously very smitten with you, Andrea."

"Do you think so?"

"He doesn't bring dates to dinner."

Andrea stared at the floor. "He's very vulnerable, Kelly."

"I know, but he's carried that around for so long I had to do something to show him that it's been time to put it in the past for at least seventeen years."

"He doesn't think you believe he was old enough to be in love."

"So he opened up about Emily?"

Andrea nodded.

"He did love her. That was the problem. It's been the problem all along." Kelly pulled the door to the convection oven open and removed the chicken dish she prepared for dinner. "When we were fifteen, even before we were fifteen, I knew that Dillon wasn't like other boys. He's always been sensitive. When that little slut broke his heart I wanted to shave her head and drag her naked through the hallowed halls of our junior high school."

"Did she betray him more than that one time?"

"Let's put it this way." Kelly put the steaming dish on a towel on the counter. "If it hadn't been for Dillon, she'd probably still be taking math classes in junior high. Of course he never saw her that way. All he saw was the beautiful girl who lavished him with attention."

"She used him."

"Like a disposable diaper. Sorry — I've got the baby theme on the brain these days."

"Has your doctor said when you can come back to class?"

Kelly nodded. "He gave me the green light at my six week check up. Unfortunately, Chelsea has different ideas about where her mommy can go and when. She can't be this way forever. I'll get back into yoga again if it kills me."

"You look fantastic."

"I try to do some of it here at home. It's not the same without you correcting my mistakes."

Dillon crept up behind Andrea and slipped his arms around her. "My ears must deceive me, Andrea. Did my perfect big sister just admit that she makes mistakes?" He gasped in mock horror. "Somewhere in the universe, two planets collided, I'm sure."

"Were you eavesdropping?" Kelly gave her best reproving stare.

"Something about dirty diapers. It sounded like Andrea needed to be rescued from your dull life." Dillon nibbled the soft skin below Andrea's ear, distracted by her closeness.

"Do you think you can tear yourself away from her long enough to eat?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Dillon?"

"I forgot to ask you. You're not a vegetarian, are you?"

"I don't eat red meat," Andrea drifted into Dillon's gaze. The rest of the world blurred into the distance. "Do you mind?"

"I've never been a fan of it myself — which Kelly knows. I'm sure that's why she made chicken tonight. She and Scott will eat that disgusting bloody stuff still warm from a fresh kill. There are better sources of protein if you ask me."

"Yeah, they come in a can from GNC," Kelly chuckled.

The sibling barbs continued through dinner, peppered with long moments where Kelly was convinced that Andrea and Dillon forgot they weren't alone. She was tempted to shoo them home right after dinner, but Scott pulled the DVD out and offered it for her approval.

Kelly scowled. "This is not romantic or dramatic. It's Monty Python, for crying out loud. Who watches this ancient stuff?"

"Andrea picked it." Dillon dropped into an oversized chair and dragged Andrea with him, seating her snuggly between the V of his thighs. His hands splayed over her belly. "I love Monty Python. Good choice, baby."

Her head tilted back and to the side. Andrea reached over her shoulder and pulled Dillon down for a quick kiss. "I love it too."

For the next ninety minutes, Dillon ignored the movie. Andrea's giggles made it impossible to focus on anything but her. Desire clouded his mind like a blanket of warm fog. He was sure she could feel his arousal. It had been trapped between their bodies from the opening line that elicited Andrea's first laugh.

Kelly watched Dillon. Scott watched them all.

"Which place did you rent from?"

"Uh..." Dillon glanced over at his sister. "The Red Box at King Soopers over on Mississippi and Chambers."

"I'll return the movie in the morning when we go pick up Chelsea. You should go and enjoy the rest of your date." Kelly winked at her brother.

"Thank you so much for dinner, Kelly. It was wonderful seeing you again. I hope you'll find time to come back to class soon."

Scott and Kelly walked them to the door and waved.

When the door closed, Scott peered at his wife. "All right. Who the hell was that, and what happened to your brother?"

"It might have been a little less than love at first sight," Kelly said, "but it's definitely love."

"You think they've figured it out yet?"

"I give 'em another five days tops," Kelly smirked.

Chapter 10

Heather filed her fingernails at the front desk. Cleavage spilled over the scooped neckline of her tight spandex top. "I'm telling you, Rachel. I know what I saw. She was standing right over there —" a manicured claw pointed to the front window of the gym, "and he comes out and asks if she's ready to go."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"That's what I thought, right? So I get up and go over to the window, figuring he's just being sweet. And right there in the parking lot he starts kissing her."

"A peck on the cheek though, right?"

Heather's eyebrow arched high. "I could practically see her choking on his tongue from here. It was disgusting. Of all the people around here, why in the world would a great guy like Dillon Holbrook be interested in a plain, boring bitch like that? She acts like I shit on her shoe if I just say hello to her royal highness."

"Bad visual, Heather."

"Maybe it's that sex class," Heather's voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "Who knows what she's doing in there? It could be some orgy for all we know."

Rachel shook her head sending a cascade of blonde curls into disarray. "No way would Bobby ever sanction something like that in his gym. Maybe he doesn't know what she's really doing. I mean, the yoga stuff is legit. Dillon's sister used to come to those classes all the time before she popped out the brat. Didn't you say she's the one who sent Dillon to that class?"

Heather nodded. "She can't possibly know that her brother is carrying on with the ice queen. Kelly's a nice person. Mind you, she's not as much my type as her brother is if you know what I mean, but she's always been friendly."

"He never asked you out?"

"No, and if you rub it in that you fucked him and I didn't get to, I'll hate you forever Rachel."

"When this thing with yoga-girl blows over, and it will, he'll be back. Maybe the three of us could go out some time." She arched her eyebrow and floated a smoky gaze.

"I thought you only went out the one time."

Rachel waved it aside. "That tramp Christine swooped in and distracted him. Did you hear she moved back to Aspen? I'm telling you. He'll be back."

"And if the thing with the ice queen doesn't blow over?"

"Oh, it will. She's probably already boring the hell out of him. No way could somebody like that satisfy a man like Dillon. He was almost too much for me if you know what I mean."

Heather cackled. "So like, he could do both of us and have plenty left to spare."

"Exactly. I should ask around. You know how his pals around here are. The whole thing is probably some prank, a bet that the guys cooked up to see which of them could get in her pants first. They're probably gonna have a good laugh when Dillon spills his guts and says what a lousy lay she is."

"You don't think they'd really do that, do you?"

Rachel nodded. "It was the same thing that happened with Michelle Marchand. Do you remember her? It was a couple of years ago, and Steve and Warren had a bet that Steve couldn't seduce her. After the deed was done and Warren had to pay up, everybody heard about it. Michelle was mortified of course. Steve told everybody that she didn't know how to give head. I'm telling you, it was hysterical. She started going to another gym after that — the one over in Aurora for fat chicks."

"Get out! Who was she?"

"Just a girl who liked aerobics classes. She did a little work with free weights. Actually she wasn't all that different from yoga-girl. Came to the gym and was all business. She didn't socialize with anybody. I'm telling you, it was great. I mean, c'mon. If you're gonna run with the big boys, you'd better know how to play the game."

"Yeah, that's true, but Andrea teaches a sex class. What if she like, actually knows how to fuck?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "That class isn't about how to actually do it, Heather. It's for couples, married couples, who need to spice things up. She teaches some new age crap about spiritual something or other and Hindu gods. It's almost like going to mass."

"Hey are you gonna go scope out who's here this afternoon?"

Rachel dabbed the non-existent perspiration from her neck and fanned herself. "I've got to pick up a shift at the restaurant tonight. I won't be back until Thursday. Why?"

Heather shrugged. "Maybe you could ask the guys what's going on with Dillon, see if they've got money on this thing with Witt. I might be interested in throwing some money into the pot if the stakes are right."

"Oh, you're a bad girl," Rachel purred. "I'll try to remember to ask the next time I'm here. See ya Thursday!"

Heather snickered when Rachel pushed past Andrea on her way out the door and mumbled a haughty, excuse you. Her opinion of Andrea Witt as the world's first rate uppity bitch would never change. And on the off chance that Dillon wasn't pulling a prank with the guys from the gym, Heather decided to make sure that his interest in Andrea didn't last long at all.

*~*~*~*~*

Dillon noticed that everyone left class Tuesday night quiet and with a noticeable flush from the neck up. He tugged Andrea back down to the mat with him.

"I have another class starting soon."

"Tonight's discussion was pretty explicit."

"Everyone has seen their partner naked, Dillon. Everyone — including you and me — has shared physical intimacy. I don't see why people are so puritanical when it comes to having frank discussions about sexual anatomy and physiology."

"Human reproduction is covered in an entire unit that I teach high school students. I don't tell them to go home and get out a flashlight and start looking around. I don't suggest to my male students that they discover the joys of prostatic massage."

"You're teaching structure and function. I'm trying to get people who are in loving relationships to explore a deeper level of intimacy. Or is this simply because men are so radically homophobic that they can't fathom that anything inserted might actually feel good?"

"I trust you. No question about it."

"Then why are you grilling me about class?"

Dillon shrugged. "You're upset, that's why, and I'm not grilling you. This is called talking. I could see it in your eyes, Andrea. After six fantastic classes, you're afraid that a frank discussion made you lose half the class — the male half."

"Was it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who is close enough to you to read the signs. I only wanted to tell you that they were quiet because they're thinking about it. You can bet money that by the time they come back here tomorrow night, a whole lot of couples are gonna have more intimate knowledge of their own bodies than they did before."

Andrea dragged her lower lip between her teeth. "How can you be so sure of that?"

"Because of all the squirming and red faces in the bunch, there was one guy who listened to every word you said without flinching."

"You hardly count."

"Oh, I was squirming plenty when you talked about that prostate thing."

Andrea's head tipped left. "Who was it?"

"Your very skeptical Rob."

"Really?"

"I've never considered that men's nipples are an erogenous zone."

"You've clearly had lousy lovers."

"Until recently, yes, I have had the most selfish, boring women imaginable. I doubt the concept of mutual pleasure ever occurred to a single one of them."

Andrea grinned. "Until recently, huh?"

Dillon kissed the tip of her nose. "Until you."

"You're pretty unselfish yourself." Andrea's fingers trailed down his chest. "Thank you for making me feel better about class tonight."

"Play your cards right and I might ask you to show me that man nipple thing later."

"Promise?"

"Anything you want, Andrea. I meant what I said. I trust you. It scares the hell out of me if I let myself think about it too much. I don't think I've ever trusted someone this much in my life. Not even Kelly."

"Dillon, we need to talk."

"That's always such an ominous statement."

"I mean it. There are things I haven't told you yet."

"You'll say them when you're ready. I haven't told you everything either, you know." He stroked the back of his fingers over her cheek. "I suspect what you want to say."

"You do?"

Dillon nodded. "It's about why you've lived so many places in the last few years, isn't it? Maybe a little more about how Sam hurt you?"

"We really are connected."

"Whatever it is, I'll listen. But you have to promise me that you'll wait until you trust me enough to say it, Andrea. You need to believe without a doubt that I won't leave you, no matter what you say."

"Dillon I —"

The classroom door opened as the first arrivals for Andrea's yoga class filed into the room.

"Teach your class."

"Are you waiting for me tonight?"

"Baby, I've got mid-terms to grade. Four more weeks and my students will be done with the first summer term. I'd love nothing more than to spend the night with you. Tomorrow, I promise."

"Call me if you need a break later?"

"I'll call you later no matter what." He kissed her lightly and grabbed his bag. Dillon left quickly under curious stares from Andrea's students. He waved to her from the door and hurried down the hallway.

Heather was sitting at the front desk. Dillon quelled the urge to scold her for tormenting Andrea last week. Before he made a clean break, she called out a little loudly to him.

"Hey there Dillon! How's that tantric sex class workin' out for ya?"

The overt sneer in her voice grated over his nerves. Dillon froze with one hand on the door. He tried to remember Andrea's advice to let it go, to ignore the jeers from people who weren't capable of kindness. His anger won the battle. Slowly he turned.

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

"What?"

"Your name — Helga. Like the comic, Hagar the Horrible's wife Helga."

Heather's jaw dropped, stunned by his insult. She snapped her mouth shut and glared. "My name is Heather."

"Ah, the boring, dull color. Gray, isn't it?"

She sputtered at the insult.

"You're a mean person, Heather. I don't like mean people. In the future, I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak to me if you can't be polite. I'm sure you understand now how it feels to have someone lash out and be rude for no reason. And for the record, my class has been fantastic. My sister has excellent taste. Have a good night."

She clenched her fists until her palms stung from the bite of sharpened acrylic nails. "You'll pay for that, Dillon Holbrook. I'll make you regret stepping foot in that bitch's class."

Chapter 11

Andrea's yoga class started late, ended even later. She was inundated with questions from her students about the gorgeous man who kissed her goodbye. After she stopped blushing, Andrea dropped into the lotus pose and started talking.

"His name is Dillon Holbrook."

"Girl, he is h-o-t hot! Where in the world did you find him?" Therese was the ringleader of her most outspoken students.

"Do you remember Kelly Ford?"

Therese rolled her eyes. "Yeah, we had a baby shower for her not three months ago. What's she got to do with the hunky boy-toy?"

"First of all, he's not a boy-toy. He's a teacher."

Sybil piped up. "Here at the gym?"

"High school," Andrea said. "He's in one of my classes because his sister gave him a gift certificate. His sister is Kelly Ford."

"Oh. My. God," this from Gillian. "He's that Dillon? She used to talk about her brother all the time. Didn't he live some place on the east coast?"

"Southeast," Therese corrected. "Some place in North or South Carolina, wasn't it? On the coast."

"North Myrtle Beach," Andrea said. "And before you ask, we've only recently started seeing each other. He's very sweet, and this is very new, and I'm not comfortable talking about the details. Shall we begin?"

"How long is recent?" Jennifer asked.

"A couple of weeks."

"So did Kelly set you two up?"

A tiny smile curled at the corners of Andrea's mouth. "You know, I hadn't even considered the possibility, but yes, I think she did."

That opened an entirely new dialog. As a result, it was shortly after ten when Andrea slung her gym bag over her shoulder and left for home. Chuck waved and offered a pleasant farewell. Of all the gym employees, he was by far the friendliest, except for the owner Bobby. His wife Jennifer was a regular attendee of Andrea's evening yoga class three nights a week. Bobby and Jennifer had also been one of the couples in the first Introduction to Tantric Sex class that Andrea taught.

Jennifer reminded her on a regular basis how grateful they both were for that class. For the first time in her life, Andrea felt grateful for it too. She smiled at Chuck and waved when she backed out the door. "Night Chuck. See you tomorrow."

Thoughts of Dillon invaded her mind. It pleased Andrea a little bit that others found him as handsome as she did — with his chiseled jaw and prominent cheek bones. Dillon's brow was well defined, making him appear even more masculine than the muscles he worked so hard to develop. Hadn't he said something about being gangly and awkward as a teenager, that Kelly had pictures of him before he started bodybuilding? She made a mental note to drop a hint the next time she saw Kelly. Andrea was curious to know everything about Dillon's life.

"Maybe I can have her and Scott over for dinner next weekend. Date night out." The notion made her smile turn giddy. The idea was bound to make Dillon happy too.

Andrea fumbled through her purse for her keys. Her fingertip hooked through the cold circle of the metal keychain as a blinding pain crashed through her left temple. Sparks cascaded against the backs of her eyelids. Dazed, Andrea smashed into the side of her car. The purse fell to the ground. Another blow struck across her low back. Andrea moaned and sank to the ground, losing consciousness.

Reality returned with groggy, throbbing splendor. The edges of the world remained blurred. Andrea tried to lift her head. White hot pain seared a path from her head to the base of her spine. She groaned and dragged herself up on all fours. The abandoned purse lay on the ground, half underneath her car.

Shaking fingers crawled over the pavement to grasp the handle. Andrea pulled it toward her. She clutched her car keys in the other hand. Hot tears of pain and fear bled from her eyes, dripping puddles of regret onto the ground. "Not again. Please God, not again."

She trembled and shook, but forced herself to press the all-too-familiar numbers on her cell phone.

"Nine-one-one. Please state the nature of your emergency."

"I've been attacked," Andrea's voice brimmed with pain. "Someone hit me."

"Ma'am, you're calling from a cell phone. What's your location?"

Andrea gave the address. "I'm in the parking lot in front of West's Gym." Her fingers trailed through the warm sticky river running from the gash on her left temple. "I'm bleeding."

"I need you to stay on the line with me. An ambulance has been dispatched to your location. Did you lose consciousness?"

"I — I think so. I'm not sure."

"What's your name?"

"Andrea Witt. I work at the gym. It was just after ten when I left. Someone came up and hit me from behind when I got to my car. I — I didn't see who did it." But you know who did this, Andrea. Tell the police. Put an end to this once and for all.

"Were you robbed?"

"I don't know," Andrea sobbed. "What's taking them so long to get here? I'm scared. Oh God, what if he's still here?"

"Andrea, you need to stay calm. The nearest EMS station is only a mile away from your location."

"Yes... Yes, I can hear the sirens now."

The lights and noise roused Chuck from the front desk. He watched the ambulance and fire truck pull into position. It blocked whatever was going on out there. He opened the door and started across the parking lot. Paramedics rolled a stretcher to the back of the ambulance and pushed it inside. He couldn't make out so much as the gender of the victim. Large men hovered around it, one pressing gauze in the area of someone's head.

A police car arrived. He headed toward it.

"Hey, you work in West's?" the officer called to him.

"Yeah, I've got night desk duty. What's going on over there?"

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to stay here. I'll be right back."

Chuck scratched his head and watched the ambulance scream off through the dead quiet of night. He glanced at his watch. Eleven ten. "Bobby will have my ass for leaving the desk unattended. He doesn't care if the gym is flat out empty," he fretted — until the fire truck's emergency lights extinguished and it drove slowly away.

Bathed in the glow from the overhead light in the parking lot sat a car Chuck recognized. He'd only applied the parking permit to it last Friday. "Andrea..." he whispered.

The cop jogged back across the lot.

"Was that Andrea Witt?"

"You know the victim?"

"Oh my God. Is she all right? What happened? She left close to an hour ago!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down and answer my questions."

Chuck nodded and committed Bobby's second cardinal sin. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one and inhaled deeply. "Yeah, I know her. She's one of the instructors at the gym. Andrea's a real sweet lady — a little on the shy side, but everybody adores her. What happened? Is she gonna be all right?"

"Ms. Witt was attacked on her way home," the officer said. "You indicated that she left around ten?"

"A couple of minutes after. Her late yoga class usually ends around nine-fifteen, nine-thirty. They ran late tonight. God, was she out here all this time?"

"We're not clear on all the details. Is there anyone I can notify? Do you maintain files with emergency contact information?"

"Uh...yeah. They're locked in Bobby West's office. I'll have to call him. Is Andrea gonna be okay? What happened to her?"

"Looks like she took a couple of hard hits. We don't know what the weapon was. She's conscious but groggy. The paramedics are taking her to University Hospital to get her checked out. What say we go inside and rouse the boss?"

Chuck flicked his cigarette to the ground and exhaled a shuddering cloud of smoke. "Yeah. Yeah, I should definitely call Bobby."

Jennifer answered the phone.

"It's Chuck. I need to talk to Bobby right away."

Jennifer sat up in bed and folded down the corner of the page in her novel before setting it aside. "What's wrong, Chuck?"

"It's Andrea. Somebody attacked her in the parking lot. The cops are here and need to know who her emergency contact is."

"I'll send him over right away. Don't hang up."

Her voice muffled, the sound of the phone pressed to her chest. Chuck wished Bobby's arrival would make the knot in his gut untwist. Somehow he knew that would only come when he learned if Andrea was all right.

"He's on his way right now. Tell me what happened. What was she doing at the gym so late?"

"She didn't leave long after you guys did," Chuck said. "She told me goodnight and walked out the front door. I had no idea anything was wrong until I heard the sirens."

"What hospital did they take her to?"

"Uh...University. The cop said University Hospital. Damn, Jenny, she's been here a year and I don't know who I should call for her. She shouldn't be alone."

"Don't worry about it, Chuck. I know who to call. Bobby will be at the gym in a few minutes. Sit tight. I'm going to make some calls. Please let the police officer know that her...her people will be notified immediately."

Jenny disconnected the call and dashed into the living room. She tore through her purse looking for her Blackberry. A moment later, the phone connected to Kelly Ford's home number.

"Hello?" whispered into her ear.

"Kelly?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's Jennifer West — we were in Andrea's yoga class together."

"Of course. Why are you calling me so late?"

"It's Andrea. I know she's dating your brother, but I have no idea how to reach him."

Kelly sat bolt upright in the bed. "What happened?"

"Somebody attacked her when she was leaving the gym tonight. The paramedics took her to University Hospital. I thought Dillon would want to be there."

"I'll call him. Thanks, Jenny."

*~*~*~*~*

Dillon paced the waiting room. His fingers raked through his hair so often, Kelly feared he might pull all of it out before news of Andrea's condition was known. She tentatively stepped into his path.

"Dilly, sit down. Tearing your hair out isn't going to make them come talk to us sooner and it isn't going to change what the doctor has to say."

"What's taking so long?" Dillon's eyes darted to the heavy double doors accessible only by those with the electronic pass that opened them.

"They already told us that she's getting a CAT scan. These things take time. We know she's conscious. Please don't worry so much. You've got to hope for the best."

"The best," he muttered. "None of this would've happened if I'd stuck around and made sure she got home safely. I knew something was wrong last week after that vandalism business."

Kelly gripped his arm and froze. "What vandalism business?"

"I told you about it. Christ, Kell, I called and asked for Tim's phone number."

"That was Andrea's car?"

He nodded. "Some son of a —"

The doors swung open and a man in bright blue scrubs appeared. "Dillon Holbrook?"

"Yes. I'm Dillon."

"You can come back and see Ms. Witt now."

"Is she all right?" He forgot Kelly for a moment and hurried after the doctor.

"She's very lucky. It could've been much worse. She's got a mild concussion and a small laceration to the left temple. We closed it with butterfly tape — no stitches. She looks a little rough — some bruising. Neurologically, she's intact. We were concerned about the blow to her back. Again, the x-rays and CAT scan showed no fractures or internal bleeding. She's sore but should be fine in a few days."

"But how is she?"

The doctor smiled. "See for yourself." He pulled back the curtain and made a sweeping gesture.

Andrea sat on the side of a gurney, clad in a thin faded hospital gown, legs dangling. Her precious feet were covered with blue stockings — the kind with the rubber grips on both sides. She held an ice pack to the bruised side of her face, eyes damp and red from crying.

"Dillon." Her arms opened wide.

Three steps later, he gathered her into his arms raining kisses on her hair. "Baby...why didn't you call me?"

"I wanted to," she sobbed into his broad chest, "but the paramedic took my phone away from me. When I got here, they started running tests and insisted that I couldn't use a cell phone in this part of the hospital."

"Shh...I'm here now. It's all right. Oh God, Andrea, I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you needed me."

"It's not your fault."

Dillon pulled away and peered down at her. "Who did this to you?"

Fear clouded her expressive eyes. "I — I didn't see who did it."

"This is the last straw," he growled. "First the car, and now this? Bobby's got to hire full-time security to patrol the place after dark. This is unacceptable."

Andrea relaxed against him again — until she caught a glimpse of Kelly over his shoulder. She cringed.

"Dillon, the doctor says he wants to give you her discharge instructions. He's at the desk. They're not going to keep her overnight."

"You go deal with him," Dillon said. "I'm not leaving her side."

"Don't be ridiculous. What good will you be to her if you don't understand how to take care of someone with a concussion?" Kelly stepped closer to the bed. "How would I know what kind of questions you'll have? Or do you plan on dropping her off at home alone for the night? Go on. I'll stay with her until you get back."

"Baby?"

Andrea nodded and braced herself for the conversation she knew was coming. "We'll be fine. Hurry back."

Kelly barely waited for privacy. "You don't know who did this? C'mon, Andrea."

"Please don't do this, Kelly. I really didn't see who attacked me."

"What's this about your car being vandalized? Isn't that how it always started before?"

She nodded, slightly, and then cringed from the pain that shot through her head again. "But he isn't exactly shy about letting me know he's found me. As far as I know, all of this is just random bad luck."

"Horse shit," Kelly fumed. "Does Dillon know about him?"

"I mentioned Sam."

"Uh-huh. He wouldn't be this calm if he knew everything. You've got to tell him the truth, Andrea. I'm not sure you've figured it out yet, or if he has for that matter, but my little brother loves you very much."

"He doesn't even know me. Not really," she whispered.

"He knows enough to be out of his mind that this happened. Dillon practically wore the wax off the floor out there while we were waiting to hear if you were gonna be all right. Don't pretend that what he feels isn't profound. I know him, Andrea. I think I know you pretty well too."

"I — I'll tell him the truth."

"Tonight, Andrea. You need to tell him all of it tonight. If Sam is back —"

"I don't believe he is, but I'll tell him. Promise me that you won't break my confidence, Kelly."

"You promise me that you'll tell him all of it."

Andrea nodded.

"Then I'll keep my mouth shut, Andrea. But if you don't keep your word —"

"I will," she whispered.

Chapter 12

Dillon appeared at his bedside with a t-shirt and a pair of cut-off drawstring sweat pants. "Let's get you out of those bloody clothes."

Her jeans were fine, but the blouse was ruined. Not all the stain removers on the market in all the world would remove the dried blood.

Andrea scowled, and quickly winced at the pain that throbbed in her face from the use of those particular muscles. "I'm not wearing clothes to bed."

"Why not?"

"Because I never do, and I won't get a wink of sleep if I start wearing them now. The point is to make me comfortable, not bind me up in the most restrictive clothing you can find."

Dillon laughed. "My clothing is restrictive? On you? You could be a pregnant elephant at term and still swim in my clothes sweetheart. Come on now. You'll be far more comfortable in some nice warm fleece."

"Don't tell me this lovely shade of blue, black and purple has cooled your lust for me."

"It's not lust, and for the record, nothing would make me want you less."

Andrea peeled off the blouse and tossed it at him. The front clasp on her bra clicked open, and Dillon swore it echoed through his loft. She cringed again when she pulled it off.

"My back hurts."

Dillon gently pulled her to her feet and unbuttoned her jeans. "The doctor said you've got a nasty bruise from where that bastard hit you."

"About that..."

"Not tonight, baby. You're safe. I want you to put it out of your mind and get some rest. I have to wake you up every two hours as it is. The last thing you need is reliving the stress of what happened." He tugged her jeans over her slim hips. "Don't suppose you could humor me and keep the panties on, could you?"

She was already pushing them down her toned thighs. They pooled on the floor at his feet.

"You're gonna kill me. You know that, don't you?"

Andrea's eyes drifted to half mast. "Instead of waking me up every two hours, we could do something that would keep both of us awake all night."

"Absolutely not. The doctor was very specific. No strenuous activity for you for the next three days."

"Good thing yoga is low impact, huh?"

"Baby, you can't teach that class until you see the doctor on Friday. I have it on good authority that one of your students is making sure everyone knows that classes are cancelled or postponed until next week."

"There's no reason I can't finish the tantra. All I do is sit and stare into your beautiful blue eyes."

Dillon grinned. "Nice try. Now climb under the covers. I'll go brew some of that tea you love so much, and you can drift off to sleep and be a good patient. Understand?"

When he returned ten minutes later with two steaming cups of chai, Dillon groaned. Andrea reclined with pillows propped behind her at the head of his bed, legs bent at the knees and parted for a tantalizing view. Her fingers circled her dusky pink nipples, already had them excited to stiff peaks.

"Will we ever share a cup of tea without you completely distracting me with...with this?" He sighed heavily and put the mugs on the bedside dresser. "C'mon, Andrea. The doctor wasn't fooling around. He said no strenuous activity —"

"I find this very relaxing." Her right eye matched the left, slit open only a crack by choice instead of the trauma that resulted in swelling. Andrea ran her index finger over her lips before drawing it slowly into her mouth. "Since you're not interested, wanna watch?"

Dillon groaned and gritted his teeth. Her skin glistened when she trailed the saliva slick finger down her neck, between her breasts and over her belly. She stopped when she reached the strip of carefully groomed hair on the mound that stood guard over her no-doubt wet pussy.

"Take your clothes off and sit at the end of the bed. I want you to watch what you make me do when you're not around and I can't stop thinking of you."

Desire darkened his eyes. Dillon tore his clothing away and tossed it aside. He crawled, fully aroused, to the end of the bed and mirrored her position.

"I have a confession."

"Concussion."

"Funny man. Do you want to hear this or not?" Her eyes roved over his body and settled on the thick erection stretching up his belly.

"Please continue."

"I've never done this before." Her finger slowly traced her outer lips. "It's incredibly erotic."

"I thought you wanted me to see what you do when I'm not around to do this for you."

"I meant that I've never let a man watch me before."

Dillon licked his lips. "You'll never let another one do it, I can promise you that."

Her right hand left her breast and moved much lower. Andrea parted the engorged flesh with a sigh. "See how wet I am, just thinking about you touching me?"

"Uh-huh."

One finger danced around the slit Dillon wished he was buried to the root inside. A pearl of fluid oozed. Andrea swiped her finger through it and raised it to her tongue. She moaned, making a show of tasting herself. "I like it much better when it's on the tip of your tongue."

Dillon's breath rushed out of his lungs. "Uh-huh."

"Baby," she whispered.

"Uh-huh."

"Touch yourself. I want to watch you too."

"Screw doctor's orders," he rasped. "I want you."

Andrea clasped her knees together. "I've changed my mind."

"You have? Dammit, what for?"

"I think the doctor was right. That would be far too strenuous. We'd get carried away. I might hurt myself more than I already am."

"Andrea..."

"No, this way is best."

Dillon gripped the base of his cock with one hand and licked the other. He wrapped long fingers around the shaft and stroked himself.

Her legs parted, and on a low moan, Andrea spread herself wide. "You probably imagine that when I fantasize about you this way, I put my fingers inside me as deep as I can."

Dillon's eyes fixed on her. "Do you?"

"No. Nothing could ever compare to how it feels with you so deep inside me. I dream about your mouth sucking my clit." Her finger circled the swollen nub slowly. "Your mouth is exquisite, precious."

Dillon's hand tightened and sped up. "Tell me how."

"You kiss it, the same way you chase my tongue in my mouth." Andrea started stroking herself in earnest. "I love the way you eat my pussy. Makes me feel like my body is on fire."

He grunted. "You squirm."

"Do I?"

"Grind it into my face. I love the way you lose control. Your body shakes when you come."

"Yeah," Andrea sighed. "I love that feeling...so intense. Nobody ever made me come so hard, so much." She watched his chest rise and fall, the way his fingers tightened when he stroked up to the flared head of his cock. A clear droplet rolled over it onto his index finger. "You've got a magnificent cock, Dillon. That first night —"

"Mmm...what about it?"

"I was afraid I couldn't take all of it."

"Oh God."

"Don't let go yet. Let me come first," she whispered. "Watch what seeing you this way does to me." Her fingers slithered over her wet sex faster. Andrea's thighs quivered.

"Let go, baby. Come for me."

She whimpered. Her back arched and Dillon watched the pleasure flood her face. It swept up from her core, tightening her nipples and washing her in a sated glow.

"Your turn," she whispered, eyes slanted with dreamy desire.

Dillon's head rolled back. He imagined her hot breath on his body, her teeth nipping at his neck, fingers scratching and kneading.

And then her mouth covered the head of his aching cock in reality, suckled deeply.

"Andrea," he groaned. His fingers plunged through her hair and held her gently between his legs. Orgasm overtook him, sticky jets shooting into her greedy mouth. Her moans intensified the sensation until it became almost too much to bear.

Almost.

Finally, her tongue dragged along the shaft from base to tip where she planted a soft kiss.

"Baby, you shouldn't have done that."

"I wanted to taste you again."

"When did you before? I think I'd have remembered..." His hand cupped her cheek.

"I didn't suck you, but I wanted to."

"The first night." Dillon's cock twitched. "You licked me clean."

Andrea straddled his lap and twined her arms around his neck. A bead of his essence had drizzled from her lower lip down her chin. "Know what you taste like?"

Dillon sucked her chin softly. He pulled back and made an unpleasant face. "Like shit compared to you."

Andrea giggled. She kissed him deeply. "You taste like..." she mumbled into his mouth.

"Yes?"

"Apricots...with a little hint of tangy lemon, and just a tiny bit of alum."

"I don't know what alum is, but it doesn't sound very palatable."

"It's bitter but a little sweet too. It's used for pickling."

"I knew there was a reason I never liked pickles. They taste like cum."

His humor elicited another giggle.

"Do you feel better now?"

Andrea nodded. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"Making me feel safe, helping me forget how terrified I was tonight."

"Baby, I would do anything for you. And I'm never letting you leave the gym alone again."

"About what happened tonight —"

"Shh," his index finger glanced over her lips. "I don't want you thinking about that right now. You need to rest."

"We have to talk one of these days, Dillon."

"And we will, but not tonight. Right now, all I want to do his hold you and make you feel safe, because you are safe with me Andrea. I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

For the first time in years, hope sparked in Andrea's chest. If anybody could scare Sam away once and for all, it would be Dillon. He'd understand why she didn't tell him the truth right away. Dillon would know why she was too ashamed to share the darkest chapter of her life with many people. He had to if only a fraction of what Kelly said was true.

Dillon tucked her into bed and sipped the abandoned tea. "It's cold. Do you want me to warm it up?"

"Mmm, that would be nice."

He was back in two minutes, but Andrea had already drifted off to sleep. Dillon pulled his jeans back on and settled on the bed beside her. A tiny smile curled at the corners of her lips. He sipped his chai and watched her, joy bubbling in his heart at the knowledge that she smiled because she was safe with him. The imperative to protect her grew in his chest, heavy and sober. What happened to Andrea in the space of a week was no coincidence. His head knew it. His heart didn't want to believe anyone would hurt someone he loved so very much.

What Dillon didn't understand was that control was mere illusion. Keeping Andrea safe from being hurt was not within his power, or any hands other than her own. History taught her harsh lessons. They were wounds far from healed and deeper than the injuries she suffered alone on a dark Tuesday night.

Chapter 13

Andrea answered the phone on an aborted half-ring. "Hello?" she whispered.

"Did you tell him yet?"

"Kelly."

"I'm serious. Dillon needs to know if Sam found you, Andrea."

"I tried to tell him last night. He insisted that I rest."

"Put him on the phone."

"He's still sleeping. He finally passed out around six."

"Dillon has class in less than an hour, Andrea. You need to wake him up. I warned you that if you wouldn't tell him the truth, I would."

"I tried, all right? I will tell him. It wouldn't be fair to upset him right before he goes to work. Why would you want me to do that to him?"

"Fine — you've made a valid point, but the second he gets home from work, you're telling him the whole story, not just that Sam is a guy from your past who hurt you. He knows that much already."

"I told him that Sam and I were married."

"Does he know that you had to hide on the other side of the world while the psychopath cooled off? Does he know that the man terrorized your parents while you were gone, that he managed to hunt you down and harass you in every city you've lived for the past three years? Have you told him that Sam regularly threatened to kill you if you so much as looked at another man? You need to take what happened last night very seriously, Andrea. It very well could've been more than a simple assault. What if it was attempted murder?"

"If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation because Sam doesn't make mistakes. That's another reason I don't believe he had anything to do with what happened to me. But I gave you my word that I'd tell Dillon the whole ugly story, and that's exactly what I'll do. I'm not dumping this on him before he has to teach class."

"What if it was Sam, huh? What if he decides it would be more fun to punish you by killing Dillon instead?"

Panic seized Andrea's heart. Sam was a sadistic jerk on his best day. If he even suspected that she was falling deeply in love with another man, it would send him right over the edge. "You should've thought about that before you manipulated us into the same room, Kelly."

"I'm sorry," Kelly's tone softened immediately. "Not for getting you with my brother, but for being so harsh about Sam. Dillon can take care of himself, but he's got to know that there's a threat hanging over your heads."

"I'll tell him after class tonight."

"You're teaching? Andrea, the doctor said you need to take it easy for at least three days."

"Relax. I can sit on a mat and teach tantra just as well as I can sit around Dillon's loft. Do you think he'd let me do anything that might hurt me? We both know he wouldn't. I should go wake him before he's late for class."

"Tell him today, Andrea. I mean it. If he doesn't hear it from you, I'm telling him first thing tomorrow. The maniac that assaulted you is still out there. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to amend your statement to the police either."

"I haven't actually given one yet."

"Then tell them."

"I'll think about it. I need to go." Andrea hung up the phone and padded barefoot into Dillon's bedroom. He lay sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the bed. The temptation to climb under the arm that pinned her for the last hour was great. Dillon took his responsibilities seriously though, and she was determined to be as giving and considerate to him as he was to her.

Andrea's fingers trailed down his spine. "Dillon?"

He moaned and snuggled deeper into the mattress. His right hand sought her warmth, now absent from his bed. He lifted his head. "Baby?"

"I'm right here. It's eight fifteen. You have to go to work."

He slumped into the pillow and mumbled, "Already called the principle last night and told him you got hurt. He said he'd get a sub for the rest of the week."

"Dillon, you didn't have to do that."

He rolled over and gazed up at her. "Come back to bed. I need you close."

"I need to go pick up my car."

"You can't drive until the doctor says it's safe. Kelly and Scott took your keys last night and put the car in your garage. We got it covered."

"I should probably call my parents."

"Mmm...Bobby called them last night. You listed them as your emergency contact at work. He assured them that you were fine, honey." Dillon patted the empty space beside him. "Nothing to worry about."

Color drained from Andrea's face. "Oh God. I wish he hadn't done that, Dillon."

"Done what? Called your folks?"

But Andrea was already around the wall. She rushed to the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart.

"Hello?"

"Mom?"

"Andrea! Oh thank God! Your father and I have been up all night, frantic with worry. Why didn't you call us sooner, sweetheart?"

"I think you know why."

"Honey, we haven't seen Sam in over two years. We had no idea how to contact you to let you know it was safe for you to come back home."

"It's not safe," she whispered. "Mom, I can't stay on the phone long. I'm afraid he's found me again."

"Again? Andrea don't hang up. Are you telling me he found you after you left San Francisco the second time?"

"He always finds me," she wept. "I should've run again last week after he vandalized my car again."

"This has gone on far too long," her mother's voice shook. "Your father and I are taking the next flight to Denver. Tell me where you are."

"I'm safe for now, with a friend. You can't come here, Mom. I won't have him harassing you and Daddy again. Why do you think I've stayed away all these years? He won't leave anyone alone if he knows we're in contact. It's the only way. I'm sorry. It's for the best. I love you. Tell Daddy I love him too."

She replaced the receiver and met Dillon's suspicious stare.

"I told you we needed to —"

"Andrea, I don't understand what's going on. Why in the world would you want to keep something like this away from your parents? I know you're estranged, but there's no reason I can imagine that would keep you from telling them they don't have to worry about you."

She swallowed thickly. "You...you didn't hear?"

He shook his head. "Please tell me you didn't call a taxi to take you home."

"I called my mom."

Relief flooded his handsome face. He marched into the kitchen and pulled a cold pack from the freezer and wrapped it in a towel. "No arguments. You're putting this on your eye — which is completely swollen shut now — and going straight back to bed. You're resting today, and I don't want to hear another excuse."

She nodded. "What about tantra tonight?"

"You're not teaching, Andrea. People will understand. Can we make up tonight's class tomorrow night? Bobby could call everyone and see if they can come at six instead of seven."

She stared hard.

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

Andrea shook her head.

"I'll call him at noon. If — and I do mean if — you don't have a headache and can open your left eye by then, I'll ask him to have your students come to class tonight. We'll have to play tomorrow by ear." He held out the icy cold bundle.

"Will you shut off the phones and stay with me in bed?"

"Absolutely. I need to call Kelly first and let her know we survived the night."

"She already called," Andrea confessed. "I didn't want to wake you, so I answered the phone." Andrea couldn't comprehend why her intrusive behavior made him grin madly, but it did.

"Good. Now get back in bed."

Andrea took the cold pack and pressed it gingerly to her cheek. "You're staying with me all day?"

"Nothing could keep me away." Dillon's arm circled her waist as he urged her back toward the bed. "I'm really glad you called your family, Andrea."

"They wanted to come."

"Really?"

She nodded. "I told them I'm fine. I think they'd feel worse if they saw me this way. Maybe when I'm healed, I'll go home for a visit."

"I'd love to go with you, if you wouldn't mind the company," he said. "I'd be wrecked if you went alone."

"Let's see what happens. I still have to talk to the police, don't I?"

"The officer who came to the hospital last night agreed to come see you here later today. He tried to argue with your doctor, but he assured him that you'd be able to give more details when you're not so groggy from the concussion."

"What time?"

"Three."

"Would you mind terribly if I talk to him alone, Dillon?"

"I don't understand why you'd want to. Is there something you remember that you haven't told me?"

"You were so upset when that stupid receptionist at the gym hurt my feelings. I know how hard it will be for you to listen to a detective ask me questions about something much worse than hearing that maybe one of your ex-girlfriends was taunting me. I don't want to put you through that."

Dillon eased her down to the bed. "You're downright adorable for worrying about me after everything you've been through." His fingers sifted through her hair. "I can go out and pick up some dinner when he gets here if it means that much to you, but please believe that I'd rather be here for you, Andrea."

"You're here now, and that's all that matters."

*~*~*~*~*

Dillon eyed the uniformed officer warily. He kissed Andrea's forehead. "I won't go far. If you change your mind and want me to come back, call me right away."

"It's fine, Dillon. I'm famished. Could you pick up some Chinese while you're out?"

He glanced at the cop. "All right. I'll be back in forty minutes."

The door clicked shut and Officer Herbert clicked his pen. "Ms. Witt, your boyfriend seems very possessive."

"Concerned, and I should think that you wouldn't need to look far to understand why."

"Any idea of his whereabouts during your attack?"

Bad memories flashed back through her mind. There was another time when she sat with a police officer in a different living room answering questions. The difference between the past and the present was that the man who was supposed to love and protect her was actually guilty as sin. Andrea cleared her throat and met Officer Herbert's probing gaze.

"He was here, grading mid-term exams."

"Any witnesses that can verify his alibi?"

Andrea shook her head.

"Has it occurred to you, given his size, that this could be a case of steroid induced rage?"

Andrea drew in a shaking breath. "If you ask him to submit to a drug test, Dillon would comply in a second. He did not do this to me officer."

"Then you're aware of the charges filed against him ten years ago for assault and battery in New York State?"

She shook her head. "We've only recently embarked on a relationship. He was much younger ten years ago, and I'm confident, based on his character that Dillon would never raise his hand in violence against a woman."

Herbert nodded. "It was a bar brawl on a college campus. The charges were dropped due to a dozen eye witnesses coming forward to assert that Mr. Holbrook acted in self defense. I needed to make sure he wasn't showing any violent tendencies against you, particularly since you requested that he leave while I interview you. It's not unusual for battered women to need privacy in order to feel safe enough to speak freely."

"This isn't the first time I've been through this sort of interview," she admitted. "Dillon doesn't know about the first time."

"I see. Where were you the first time you suffered this sort of abuse, Ms. Witt?"

"San Francisco. I immediately filed for divorce after the incident and moved home with my parents."

"Have you had any recent contact with your ex-husband?"

"It's been four years and seven months since I left him. I haven't actually seen him for almost that long."

"Any reason to believe that he could be involved in what happened to you last night?"

A single tear rolled down Andrea's cheek. "Yes," she whispered. "I've never stayed in one place for very long. Since we were divorced, this is the longest I've lived anywhere, at least in this country. After our court date, my parents put me on a flight to New Delhi."

"India?"

She nodded. "I was there almost a year. My parents begged me to come home. They believed that Sam moved on with his life. I was homesick, so I came back to the U.S."

"What happened?" Officer Herbert shoved his pen back into his pocket.

"He terrorized my parents when he learned that I returned. He demanded to know where they were hiding me."

"By terrorized you mean what exactly?"

"Threatening phone calls, we think he poisoned their dog. Nothing we could ever prove, but when I left San Francisco again, the harassment stopped."

"Where did you go?"

"Dunedin, Florida. It's part of the Tampa metro area. I was there for just over ten months before someone took a baseball bat to my car in the parking lot at the gym where I was teaching yoga."

"And you suspected your ex-husband."

"I quit after explaining to my boss that the police couldn't do anything without proof that Sam was the culprit. I knew it was him. So I packed my stuff and disappeared in the middle of the night. I moved to Raleigh. Seven months later, someone damaged two of the wheels on my car. I replaced them and moved immediately to Dallas — no forwarding address. During one of my classes about ten months later, someone came in and told me that the fire department was putting out a fire. Someone poured gasoline on the hood of my car and threw a match. It was the same story every time. The police couldn't do anything without proof that Sam was involved."

"After the first time he assaulted you physically, was there any other altercation of that nature?"

"I never stuck around long enough to find out what he planned to do next. Not until this time."

"There was another episode of vandalism to your vehicle?"

Andrea nodded. "Last week someone poured something in my gas tank. The mechanic thinks it was sea salt based on the damage."

"Ouch. That would ruin the engine."

"It did."

"You didn't leave town this time." Herbert pulled out his pen and clicked it several times. "What changed?"

"Dillon."

"Anybody else that you can think of who might want to hurt you?"

Andrea shook her head. "Until I met Dillon, I've been pretty careful about keeping just about everyone at arm's length. I don't have enemies, Officer Herbert. How could I when I'm so cautious about making friends?"

"What's Sam's last name, Witt?"

"No, it's Clement."

"What happened with the complaint you filed in California?"

"Six month's probation and court ordered anger management classes. It didn't do much good based on his subsequent behavior when I came home."

"Let's talk about Mr. Holbrook again for just a minute. I know you don't want to think he could do something like this to you, but believe me, I've investigated enough of these cases to know that men like that have sort of an internal radar for women who are susceptible to that alpha male personality. Has he done anything during the time you've been seeing him that would've made you feel like he was capable of something like this, maybe not directed at you, but toward anyone?"

His anger at Heather flashed in front of her eyes. "I...not really, no."

"But there was something?"

"A girl at the gym had implied that she had or was having a sexual relationship with him. He was angry, but he wasn't violent. Who could blame him?"

Herbert frowned. "And the name of this girl?"

"Heather something. She's one of the receptionists at the front desk at West's Gym."

"Can I ask why she said anything to you at all about your boyfriend's past liaisons?"

"I assumed it was because she doesn't like me. She's never been particularly friendly."

"Would you say that she's an enemy?"

"No," Andrea shook her head. "She's sort of a..."

"A what?"

"Gym bunny. She hangs out in skimpy clothing when she's not working trying to attract the attention of men who frequent the gym."

"Have you considered that jealousy can be a powerful motive?"

"Nobody knows that Dillon and I are seeing each other. At least they didn't know before the night I was attacked. My fear is that Sam found me again. It fits his past behavior in light of what happened to my car last week. Heather is harmless. She's a mean girl, but it's all talk."

"We'll look into it just the same. I'm going to give you my card. If you think of anything else, or if your ex-husband contacts you, I want you to call me immediately. Day or night, call me."

"You'll keep all of this confidential, won't you?"

"To the extent that I'm able. Why?"

"Dillon doesn't know about Sam's history. He knows we were married, that I divorced him and that I've lived in a lot of different places since then. I'd like it if he could hear the truth from me."

"If this man is stalking you, Ms. Witt, you should tell Mr. Holbrook the truth soon. He could pose a threat to more than your safety."

"Yeah," she murmured. "I'm painfully aware of that fact."

Chapter 14

Dillon kept his word. The swelling in her face was almost completely gone. When he came back to the apartment with a large bag of Chinese food, he agreed to call Bobby and tell him that Andrea could teach the tantra class that night.

"They're going to have a million questions," he grumbled. "I get sick thinking about what they'll believe happened to your face."

"Nobody would believe you'd hurt me, Dillon."

"Didn't that cop ask you all sorts of questions about our relationship?"

"He did," she said softly.

"That's why you wanted me to leave, isn't it? You knew I'd be defensive and look guilty as hell."

"That's not why I asked you to go." Andrea palmed his face in her hands. "I told him that there was no way you'd ever lift a hand to hurt another human being."

"I did. Once."

She kissed him. "Want to talk about it?"

"Some drunk hit me over the head with a beer bottle in a bar when I was a senior in college. They dropped the charges against me, but I hurt him a hell of a lot more than he hurt me."

"Dillon, that's not the same thing. You never laid in wait for someone and hit them when they didn't see it coming. I'd never believe you could lift a finger to harm a woman — any woman."

"Are you gonna tell people the truth about what happened last night?"

"I'd rather not get into the details. I'd prefer to say I had an accident. Less questions."

He nodded.

Her plan would've silenced the chorus of questions at class that night if not for the age of the bruise and the keen eye of Rob.

"Accident hell. What'd you do, accidentally get in the path of a flying crowbar?"

Andrea's eyes widened. "What on earth makes you think that's what hit me?"

His fingers snaked out and gently gripped her chin for a closer look. "If it wasn't a crowbar, it was some other hexagonal shaped tool. I can clearly see the impact mark at the center of the bruise."

"Rob, what are you, some kind of forensic weapons expert?" Dillon took the claim seriously and stepped close to examine the proof cited.

"Hell no, but for the past fifteen years I've worked summers at the Colorado National Speedway up in Erie. I'm a hire-on for temp pit crews and sometimes work as a tech official. I've seen enough accidental injuries to know one when I see one. You're lucky you didn't end up with your skull bashed in. How the hell did you get hit by a flying crowbar?"

Dillon pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "It wasn't an accident. She was assaulted last night on her way home from work."

"Oh my God!" Marie gasped. "What on earth are you doing here teaching class tonight? You should be at home with your feet up letting Dillon wait on you hand and foot."

"I need my normal routine," she said. "I can't let whoever did this to me make me too scared to live my life. Besides, I have the world's best bodyguard."

Dillon squeezed her gently, but the look in his eyes spoke his concern. He recalled Andrea's phone conversation with Tim Stevens about the history of vandalism to her car. Hadn't she said someone took a crowbar to the car in Raleigh? Andrea kept telling him they needed to talk. Was she trying to tell him something about her past?

The session went smoothly, but Dillon's focus waned from the topic. He was determined that Andrea would be given the opportunity to speak after class. In fact, he would insist on having the discussion.

"I'm exhausted," she murmured after the last person left the room. Andrea smiled wearily. "I think you were right about this, Dillon. I needed more time before I came back to work. I hope I'm feeling stronger by tomorrow night."

A knock at the door interrupted before Dillon could ask her about the serious conversation she tried to initiate with him last night. Bobby popped his head in the door. "Hey Andrea — how are you feeling, honey?"

"Tired. I think I'll fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow tonight. I haven't had the chance to thank you for everything you and Jenny did for me last night."

Bobby ducked his head. "We're terribly fond of you, Andrea. Everyone is absolutely horrified by what happened. Dillon, I wanted to talk to you about our conversation earlier. We're definitely stepping up security patrols outside the gym. I'm also having security cameras installed on the exterior of the gym. Hopefully that will help deter any people with nefarious motives from striking at my staff or the members of the gym."

"Thank you, Bobby," Dillon said.

"Andrea, do you think you'll feel up to teaching this class again tomorrow night?"

"I hope so. I was just telling Dillon that I hope my strength improves with an uninterrupted night of sleep. We were about to go home so I can do that when you arrived."

"I won't keep you then. But I promised Jennifer that I'd ask — your late yoga class wanted to know if they could stop by tomorrow night. I think they've got a little something for you — female solidarity or some such. Jennifer wanted me to tell you they won't keep you late. I think they need to see you and make sure you're all right."

Andrea looked up at Dillon.

"I think that could be arranged," he said. Andrea's self imposed isolation from others bothered him. The last thing she needed was to think nobody cared about her safety and well being, no matter how determined she'd been to maintain her role as cool and aloof. "Of course we'll have to see if she's feeling up to it tomorrow night. I'll call you about her class in the morning. After this group got a good look at the damage, I think they were pretty aghast that she showed up to teach tonight."

"You have my number. Take care and don't feel badly if you need the rest tomorrow night, Andrea. We want you back at a hundred percent. Believe me; the phone has been ringing off the hook all day with concerned students who wanted to wish you a speedy recovery. They'll understand if you need more time to recuperate."

"I'm sure I'll be much better tomorrow night. Dillon was about to take me home. I'm looking forward to my bed and a cup of hot tea."

"I won't keep you. Goodnight Andrea. Dillon."

"I'm taking you to your house tonight?"

She nodded. "I want to be in my space."

"And do you expect me to leave you there alone?" His forehead knit with concern.

"Of course not. I would like you to go back to work tomorrow morning, Dillon. You've already done too much as it is."

"All right."

"I promise to lounge around the house and not lift a finger doing anything but brew tea while you're gone."

"I already agreed, Andrea."

She slid one hand up his chest. "Let's go home, shut off the phones and snuggle up and get some well deserved rest. I need to feel your arms around me."

Some of his fears ebbed away. It might well have been Andrea's terror over what happened last night that made her so determined to tell him whatever had been on her mind. Dillon suspected that she had some crazy idea that reliving the experience might help somehow. In his opinion, that was the last thing she needed to do. She relaxed into his embrace.

"Take me home."

*~*~*~*~*

Dillon was on his way to the high school the next morning when his vibrating phone made him curse and fumble at the holster on his belt. A quick glance at the caller ID revealed that Kelly was probably tapping her foot impatiently waiting for an answer.

"'Mornin' sunshine."

"I've been trying to get a hold of you since last night! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"Ah, Kell, I'm sorry. By the time Andrea got back from work last night, we were both pretty exhausted. It's been one hell of a week."

Kelly sighed. "So she gave a statement to the police about what happened?"

"Yeah. The cop talked to her for almost an hour. I think it went pretty well, after he stopped looking at me like I might be the perp, that is."

"Dilly, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. They have to look at everybody in her life, past and present I guess. I didn't like it that anybody would think I could do that to her, but at least they don't consider me a real suspect."

"What on earth was she doing at the gym last night?"

"Teaching the tantra class," he chuckled. "She finally admitted that she might've pushed a little too hard right before she passed out last night. She's feeling much more like herself this morning. Hey, they're having a little girl power session for her tonight after class. I think it's your old yoga group. You should stop by."

"You're awfully calm about all of this Dillon."

"I'm not letting anybody get close enough to hurt her again. It's as simple as that."

"Anybody?"

"You know what I mean. When I think about what that bastard did to her...let's just hope the Denver police catch him before I do."

"She's in good hands. I doubt I'll be able to get away tonight. Scott's in Salt Lake today and tomorrow on business. It's too hard to drag all of Chelsea's gear around unless I have no other choice. Would you give her our love?"

"Sure thing, Kell. I'll try to give you a call later on and let you know how things are going."

"I feel much better already." Kelly slumped against the counter and let waves of relief wash over her that Dillon finally knew the truth. She wasn't surprised that he took it all in stride. He had always been the rock of the family — it was genetic, his protective instincts toward those he loved. Andrea's ability to take him into her confidence soothed Kelly's concerns. A woman who could trust Dillon completely was certainly worthy of his devotion.

"Talk to you later."

"Have a good day, Dillon. Please be careful."

Dillon disconnected the call and shook his head. And the cops thought he was overprotective. They should meet his sister.

Chapter 15

Dillon backed out of the yoga room, one that quickly filled with Mylar balloons, gift bags and a large cake. One of Andrea's yoga students had a large thermos he suspected was filled with Andrea's favorite beverage — steaming, milky sweet chai.

"You don't have to leave, Dillon."

He recognized her as Bobby's wife Jennifer.

"I haven't had a good work out all week. I think I'll hit the machines while you ladies do your thing. I don't mind."

Andrea followed him to the door and snagged his hand with her fingers. "Hey..."

"I'll be back soon."

"Promise?"

Dillon made an X over his heart and blew her a kiss. Half way to the weight room, he spotted Rachel and groaned. She was the last person he wanted to see tonight. Their disastrous one-night stand had been the catalyst that prompted Dillon to avoid peak hours at the gym.

"I'm lucky I didn't catch some disease," he shuddered.

He detoured to the men's locker room instead and donned his trunks. A vigorous swim would do just as well as the weight machines. Dillon recalled how upset Andrea had been when Heather made some vague nasty insinuations. Running into Rachel would rip the powder keg open and light a fuse he'd just as soon avoid.

Within ten minutes, his body was slicing a neat path through the water in the deserted pool. Dillon realized how much he looked forward to resuming a more reclusive schedule at West's.

In the yoga room, Andrea's impromptu get well party lasted all of twenty minutes — long enough for slivers of cake and Styrofoam cups of chai to make the rounds and her students to insist that she retrieve Dillon and return home to rest. She smiled, feeling warm from the caring gesture from women who likely heard rumors but didn't know Andrea well enough to call her a friend.

She slipped out of the room and made her way to the weight room. It wasn't Andrea's intention to spy on Dillon while he worked out, but she admitted to herself that she was curious about seeing him in his normal habitat.

The raucous laughter from the weight room gave her pause. He'd been absent from that established routine that no doubt his friends were happy to see him again. She slipped inside the room unnoticed. A group of men and women congregated around one of the weight machines. Andrea couldn't see him, but felt a momentary swell of pride that he had so many friends. It had to be Dillon holding their rapt attention.

"I knew it was some sort of scam," a female voice rose above the din. "I mean, she's so plain. You gotta tell me — how much was the bet, guys?"

Masculine laughter, nasty and knowing rippled through the crowd.

"Aw, c'mon. You know Dillon's too much of a gentleman to tell you how much he netted on the bet. Thank God he doesn't skimp on the other details though. I gotta say, we've been dying to know for the past year if that one ever unthaws — especially when she's getting fucked silly."

Rachel laughed. "What's a miracle is that any guy could get it up to screw her. She's got the body of a twelve year old boy."

More laughter bounced through the room, pounding Andrea's heart like tiny fists that left her raw and bleeding.

"A very tall twelve year old boy. Hey, you don't suppose that means —"

Andrea ran from the room, not sticking around to listen to more of the betrayal. Her eyes burned. "How could I have been so stupid?"

It all fit into place — the attention made sense. It was payback, an elaborate seduction aimed at punishing not only Andrea for embarrassing Dillon that first night of class, but at Kelly for tricking him into taking the class in the first place.

Tears scorched a molten river down her cheeks. Andrea ducked inside the yoga room and leaned against the door. She sobbed, her heart shattering into a thousand shards that could never be mended. Years of practice flowed away on her tears. Andrea wanted to strike back at him, deliver a mortal wound that would make him suffer the pain that overwhelmed her. Gone was the philosophy of kindness, of pacifism.

"Let him wonder," she wept softly. She marched across the classroom and grabbed the telephone extension on the wall. She'd call a cab to take her home, refuse to see him, refuse to speak until she hardened her tender emotions enough to deliver the death blow.

The dial tone hummed in her ear.

"Andrea."

She froze. "Oh God no," she felt herself falling into the abyss of her worst nightmare. Andrea's horrible day took another twist into despair and defeat. She turned slowly.

Sam stood in the doorway, wearing that victorious smirk that never failed to chill her to the bone.

*~*~*~*~*

Dillon toweled the moisture from his hair and dressed quickly. The party surely was winding down by now. He'd been gone for almost forty minutes. He slung his bag over one shoulder and hurried back to the yoga room.

"This is crazy," he laughed softly. "I can't stand being in the same building and not being with her. Who am I kidding here? I need to tell her how I feel."

What he saw at the door halted all thoughts of heartfelt confessions.

Andrea leaned against a wall, crying. A man stood near her, reaching out with one hand. He snarled and flung the door open. "Get away from her, you son of a bitch!"

Red wet eyes turned on him, full of anger and unless Dillon suddenly needed his eyes examined, hate. "Andrea?"

Decision time. Andrea couldn't wipe away the pain in her heart, the ugly words she overheard from Dillon's friends. But Sam was the devil she knew. One word from her, one hint that Dillon was more than some guy who took yoga, and he would be in as much danger as she was. At the same time, Dillon was her best shot at getting Sam away from her.

Think fast, dammit! Dillon was half way across the room. Sam stepped in front of her. She swallowed a lump of fear that swelled in the back of her throat and moved away from her ex-husband. "Dillon, you shouldn't be here."

"Who the hell is this guy? Is he harassing you?"

Like you care. Bitterness pumped out of her heart on every blood cell. "It's Sam. My ex-husband."

Dillon's eyes widened. His long arm snaked out and plucked Andrea from the space she occupied between him and Sam. "Are you all right?"

The concern was so genuine, it confused her. Was he simply a good actor? Andrea trembled under the gentle touch of his hands at her waist. "I tried to tell you," she whispered.

"I understand," Dillon murmured. His eyes hardened in an instant in the distance between Andrea's face and where Sam stood watching with interest. "You need to leave, sir. Andrea has made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing to do with you."

The warmth of Dillon's body enveloped Andrea. The anger and deep hurt, so fresh in her heart were soothed away with his words. Even if he was playing a game, a horrible prank that would leave her shattered in the end, it was nothing compared to what Sam had done to her. Andrea didn't resist the tug that pressed her into Dillon's chest.

Something else invaded her senses — the heavy scent of chlorine. Chlorine? Her head tilted back. His hair is wet. Why is his hair wet? Why does he smell like...the swimming pool? The swimming pool!

Andrea gripped the hand spanning her belly and pressed it closer to her. "The police are looking for you, Sam. I told them what I suspect."

Sam's eyebrow arched. "I believe I warned you what would happen if you ever allowed another man to touch what belongs to me, Andrea."

"I'm calling the cops," Dillon had his cell phone out in an instant.

"No need," Sam smiled, eyes black and cold. "I'll leave, but this isn't over, Andrea. Not by a long shot."

Dillon waited half a heartbeat after Sam was gone before twisting Andrea in his arms. His eyes scanned her face. "Did he hurt you? Is this what you were trying to tell me the other night? Was Sam why you...?"

She nodded. "Where were you?"

Dillon's eyes fluttered shut. It wasn't exactly where he wanted the conversation to go, but she deserved the truth. "There was a girl — is a girl, someone who hangs out in the weight room. I went out with her once not long after I moved to Denver, Andrea. It was a huge mistake — that...whatever you want to call it."

"Sex?"

"Barely," he shuddered. "Anyway, I've sort of altered when I show up to work out because I really don't want to bump into Rachel. Ever again. When I went to work out, I heard her voice. It's unmistakably obnoxious. I went to the pool and swam instead of lifting. I'm sorry I was gone so long." One finger stroked her cheek, slid through the remainder of tears. "Did he hurt you again?"

"You weren't in the weight room?"

"Andrea, I told you where I was. Why won't you answer me?"

She pressed her lips into the hollow of his throat and started to cry again.

Dillon's hands smoothed over her back. He kissed the top of her head. "Baby, talk to me."

Andrea sobbed harder.

He cupped her chin and tilted her face upward. "Did he tell you that he hurt me or something?"

"No," she whispered.

"Andrea, you've got to have some idea of how I feel about you. It's like I've been waiting my whole life for you."

"Dillon —"

"No, let me finish." He sucked in a deep breath. "I've never talked to anybody about Emily...not the way I have with you."

"Dillon —"

"I love you, Andrea."

"I... I believe you."

Disappointment flooded his face. "Oh. Well, all right."

She hugged him tighter. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Feel hurt because I believe you. Dillon..."

"I get it. It's too soon. I'm sorry." He stepped away from her and ran one hand through his damp hair. "That's probably my problem, you know? With Emily I moved too slowly. Now I'm in a hurry."

"I need to call that police officer and tell him that Sam is here. Then I want you to take me home."

"Right. You need space —"

"I want you with me, Dillon. We need to talk, but not here." Andrea's eyes skittered toward the floor. "I want to be with you too, but what I have to say..."

"Give me a hint," Dillon pleaded.

"You don't need a hint," Andrea met his gaze directly, let him see exactly what was in her heart. "I want to be alone with you."

Dillon grabbed her hand and half dragged her from the gym. "We'll call that policeman on the way home."

"My house, Dillon."

"I don't care," he growled. "I can't wait another minute."

Officer Herbert had different ideas. By the time they were at Andrea's house, he was at the curb in his patrol car waiting for them. Dillon hissed a frustrated curse.

Herbert took another statement from Andrea — this one with Dillon present to hear a few of the gory details of Andrea's abusive marriage. It cooled his impatience quickly. Before Herbert was gone, Dillon had Andrea sitting in his lap, his chin nuzzled against her shoulder.

"He won't touch her as long as I'm around," he assured the officer. "You have my word. If we catch as much as a glimpse of him again, we'll call immediately."

"Even though there was no witness to the attack Tuesday night, the fact that you witnessed his threat tonight is enough for us to at least have a serious conversation with this guy," Herbert said. "We'll keep you posted."

"Are you really all right with this?" Andrea's voice faltered.

Dillon leaned against the front door. Outside, the sound of Officer Herbert's patrol car hummed to life before drifting down the street. "I'm sorry I didn't let you tell me everything when you wanted to."

"I didn't..." Andrea's chin dipped to her chest.

"You didn't what?"

"I'm afraid to tell you the truth."

Dillon took three steps and wrapped her in his arms. "Look at me. Whatever it is, it's all right, Andrea."

"You can't know that for sure," she wriggled free and started pacing.

"Do I have to remind you how this breathing thing works?" Dillon's fingers captured her wrist and tugged her out of track. "Sit with me. Breathe with me. Talk to me."

"I'd feel safer if we did this naked."

Dillon chuckled. One eyebrow arched. "Are you sure about that?"

"It might slow you down before you have a chance to run out the door."

He dropped to the floor in the middle of her living room in a position he recently realized he'd be content to use for the rest of his life. Dillon patted his thighs. "C'mon. You said you believed me when I told you I love you. Prove it. Have a little faith that even clothed, love will keep me right here."

Andrea drew in a shivering breath and drew close to him. Her arms wound tightly around his neck.

"Stop panting and relax." Dillon's lips lightly touched hers. "Give me that connection I can't live without, my cinnamon girl." He stroked her back with strong hands that soothed the tension out of her body. After long minutes passed, he whispered, "Talk to me." The drugging caresses continued.

"You've surpassed the teacher," Andrea murmured.

"Not really. I'm not afraid to love you anymore."

Her eyes widened. "Were you?"

His right shoulder rolled upward. "When I said it earlier and you didn't really say what I hoped to hear, I reacted...not as well as I would've hoped. Yet here we are. You're in my arms. I know you care about me, Andrea. I can see it in your eyes. You're not ready to say the words yet. So what? After hearing what Sam did to you, I understand."

Andrea's fingers tickled through the hairs at the nape of his neck. "But you can't possibly understand it, Dillon. I'm not sure you'll ever want to see me again after I tell you what almost happened tonight."

"Sam?"

She nodded.

"I would've never let him hurt you."

"If he hadn't shown up..." Andrea dragged her lower lip between her teeth and held her breath.

"Tell me."

"I was going to leave you."

Dillon's forehead wrinkled. "Excuse me?"

Her arms tightened. "It's not what you think. I mean, it is, but it isn't. I realized that I was wrong, about to make the worst mistake of my life...sometimes things hurt us deeply because of how much we love someone, Dillon."

"I don't follow."

Andrea explained what she overheard in the weight room, what she believed.

"And you thought, even for a split second that I could do something like that to you?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I...my heart broke, Dillon. From the first night we made love I knew there was more between us than... I think I've loved you all along."

"But when you heard them —"

"I thought you were there," she started to cry again.

"So I was part of the conversation about what a dick I am, how disrespectful I could be toward a woman I basically let see every vulnerability I've got —"

"I'm sorry. Please believe me."

"Why didn't you throw me out? I mean, you couldn't have thought much more of me than you do Sam."

"I realized that I knew you couldn't be... You wouldn't do something like that to me. Would you?"

He saw the raw emotion in her eyes, fear, self-doubt, regret. "No." One hand rested over the knot of hair at the base of her skull. "May I, cinnamon girl?"

Andrea nodded.

"This is why you were fixated on where I'd been while you had tea and cake with your yoga students?" Her hair spilled into his hands. Dillon let it drop and gripped her head between his large hands. His fingers massaged gently.

"Yes."

Their eyes met and held. "Could you walk away from me like that, Andrea, without a word of explanation?"

"I've had a lot of practice running away from things that hurt me."

"So basically, your answer is yes."

She nodded. "Before you told me how you feel. Not now." Her legs tightened around his hips. "When you said it —"

"I love you," he murmured.

"Yes."

"No. That's what I'm telling you now. I love you."

More moisture spilled over the rims of her eyes. "I don't know what to —"

"Tell me," Dillon said.

"I love you too." Andrea laid her head against his chest. "Why do you think it hurt me so much — even the thought that you didn't feel the same way about me?"

"That's the part I can easily understand. I still want to know exactly who was involved in that malicious lie you overheard. I wouldn't do that to anyone, Andrea, not even someone I don't love."

"I'm so sorry —"

His lips latched onto hers, silencing another unnecessary apology. He mumbled against the soft flesh, "You talked to me instead of running away. I can always forgive that, even if it hurts to hear the truth. Tell me who said such horrible things about the woman I love."

"I don't know," she said softly. "I'd never seen any of them before."

Dillon pulled away, lips curling up and a wicked gleam sparking in his blue eyes. "And you're sure you trust me?"

"Yes."

"We're gonna play along with their rumors for the time being," Dillon said. "Until I find out who started this one, at least."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want anybody thinking you're that low and rotten, Dillon. It was bad enough that for a few minutes I was so hurt that I couldn't tell the difference between doubt and what I know."

Dillon pulled her tightly against him and murmured low in her ear, "Let me be clear about what I mean when I say play along."

Chapter 16

Dillon dashed through the torrential rain through the parking lot at the high school to his truck. Inside, he tore the cell phone out of his pocket and looked eagerly at the caller ID. Unknown caller. Shit. Not Andrea.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Holbrook, this is Officer Herbert with the Denver Police."

"Oh, hey," Dillon shook the moisture from his hair with one swift brush of his hand. "Have you got evidence against Sam Clement yet?"

"I talked to him," Herbert said. "He's got an alibi for the night Ms. Witt was attacked. I've been trying to get in touch with her all morning. She's not answering her phone or returning my messages."

"Uh, that would be my fault," Dillon confessed. "I've insisted that she stay with me until this mess with her ex-husband is resolved. I got the impression that Clement isn't likely to pick on somebody bigger than he is, so..."

"I need to know what she did with the vehicle that was vandalized," Herbert said. "If you know, that is."

Dillon gave him the name and number of the mechanic. "I know Andrea hasn't done anything with it yet. It's still sitting in his lot."

"I'm wondering if this attack on her property is related to the assault," Herbert said. "Clement was adamant that he had no idea where she was until some private investigator he's had looking for her found out that she called her folks from Denver. From there, it was a simple matter of calling every gym in town until he found the one where she works."

Dillon frowned. "And you buy that? Andrea hadn't spoken to her parents for three years, and this guy managed to find her in Tampa, Raleigh and Dallas."

"The alibi gives some credibility to his claim," Herbert said. "If you could have Andrea call me back right away, I'd appreciate it. We'd like to examine the car, see if there's any evidence that might point to who tampered with the vehicle."

"I'll call her right now," Dillon said. "I'm on my way home, but the sooner you find out who attacked her, the safer she'll feel."

Dillon disconnected the call and dialed the loft. The phone rang repeatedly. No answer. Fear gripped his heart. What if Sam followed them from her house last night? What if—

The machine clicked on. "Andrea, pick up," he said.

"Hello?"

He sighed heavily. "Thank God. I was about to panic. Officer Herbert has been trying to get ahold of you all morning. He wants you to call him right away."

"Have they arrested Sam?"

"No, but he wants to search the old car for evidence. I suppose he wants your permission to access it instead of getting a warrant or whatever they'd have to do otherwise."

"Oh. Well, I guess they can do whatever they need to do with it," she said. Hesitated. "Are you on your way home?"

"I'll be there in about 45 minutes. It's raining like crazy out here. You'd better call Officer Herbert back right away."

"All right. Be careful out there."

Dillon smiled. "See you soon."

Of course, it wasn't his plan to go directly home. There was a lot to be done before he sprung his real plan into action.

*~*~*~*~*

A sense of deep calm settled over Andrea the moment she heard Dillon's key in the lock on the loft's door. She wrapped her bathrobe around her tightly. Play along. Wasn't that what he told her last night? She wasn't sure how his plan would send anyone a message beyond the truth, but he was committed to doing things his way.

The door swung open, and their eyes met.

"Hello, gorgeous," he murmured.

The tips of Andrea's fingers touched the towel wrapped around her damp hair. "I'm not even dressed yet."

Dillon glanced at his watch. "We don't have to head over to the hospital for a couple of hours. You're fine."

"I meant—"

"I know," he grinned. "You're beautiful to me no matter what you're wearing. Did you rest all morning, or were you meditating with the phone shut off?"

"I slept," she drifted across the room and wrapped her arms around Dillon's waist. "Though I rest a whole lot better when you're here with me."

He kissed her forehead. "Good. Did you talk to Officer Herbert?"

She nodded. "I get the feeling he doesn't believe Sam had anything to do with any of this," her fingers brushed the bruise on the side of her face. "I can't imagine who else would've done such a thing. It's not like I was robbed."

"Let's think about something more pleasant."

"Like what?"

He tugged the towel away from her head. "Your hair."

"My hair? Dillon, are you feeling all right?"

He finger-combed the damp strands. "I'm feeling absolutely perfect. Let me comb your hair so it doesn't dry all tangled."

In less than two weeks, Andrea came to recognize his near obsession with her hair. She smiled. "I could teach you how to braid it if you'd like."

"Mmm," he nodded. "I'd love that. C'mon." He gripped her hand and led her behind the partition to the bedroom. "I was thinking about something else on the way home from school today too, Andrea."

"Other than my hair?"

"Well, I'm always thinking about that, you specifically, not just your hair," he nuzzled her neck and tugged her down onto the bed between his thighs. She pressed a comb into his hand. "I was thinking about how much I looked forward to coming home, knowing you were here."

"Ah."

"This loft is huge."

"It is."

"Pretty empty too, with my minimalist tendencies. Isn't that what you called it? I know that's what Kelly thinks." He grinned and nuzzled her flesh again. "The point is, there's more than enough room here for a whole lot more stuff, maybe even some decor that isn't quite so sparse."

Andrea froze while he began stroking through her hair gently with the comb. Was he going where it sounded like?

"If there were no Sam, no mean girls at the gym, no crazy person who attacked you, I'd feel the same way, you know. I felt it from the very first time you were close to me, Andrea."

"Me too," she said softly.

"I want you to live with me, not just because you need to be somewhere safe right now. I love having you here. I love watching your predawn yoga through the wall. I can't think of anything better than your chai tea waking me in the morning, or knowing that I'll be breathing the same air as you when we go to bed at night."

Tears slid down her cheeks. "But there is a Sam. What if he won't leave me alone, Dillon? I can't put you through that. I spent years running from him instead of taking a stand. It's my fault. I let him terrorize me."

"Then don't let him do it anymore. Choose to move forward, Andrea. Choose a life with me instead of the loneliness and isolation you let him force on you. Make your stand here, right now. Stand with me instead of running alone."

"You can't fix this for me, Dillon."

"I don't want to fix it for you. I'd love to be part of your life when you send him packing once and for all."

"He's stronger than I am. It's always been easier to run away."

"He isn't stronger," Dillon said. "Meaner, certainly, but he doesn't have an ounce of your strength. He's a coward. That's what cowards do, Andrea. They bully people who they think won't stand up to them or fight back. You know the best way to make Sam go away forever. All you have to do is make the move."

"With you," she said softly. Andrea turned her head and gazed at him. "That's been the answer all along. I needed to show him that this thing is really over instead of running away from him and never really finding my own life."

Dillon nodded. "I can't be your life, and I wouldn't want to change all that you've achieved for yourself. That's not why I want to be with you. I'd like to share it, be part of it, but I'd never ask you to change who you are."

"He said he'd kill me, kill anybody who dared touch me."

"He's a coward. Believe me, Sam Clement isn't man enough to come after me. If he was, he'd have done it last night."

"If anything ever happened to you because of him —"

Dillon silenced her with a soft kiss. "Nothing is happening to either one of us. At least not because of him. I want you safe," he said, "but I want you here with me because I love you. Did you forget about that?"

"No, of course I didn't forget." Andrea stroked his face gently. "And my answer is yes, Dillon. I'll move in with you. Sam or no Sam, I've never been this happy and content before in my life."

His smile melted her heart.

"I bet you're a real pro, packing up in a hurry."

Andrea grinned. "You could say that. Why?"

"You can teach me to braid your hair later. Let's head over to the house now and get started."

"I have a lease, Dillon."

"So we'll talk to the landlord Monday."

She chewed her fingernail. "I'm supposed to decide whether or not to renew for another six months soon."

"Great. We don't renew it." His arms wound around her waist snugly. "Perfect timing."

"Dillon, I don't know. Aren't you afraid we're rushing things a little bit? Twelve days—"

"I knew I loved you in twelve minutes. You said yes. Let's do it now, today. You're not teaching until seven tonight. We've got plenty of time before the appointment to see the doctor. We'll pack everything up this afternoon, and after class, I'll load the truck and bring you home."

"This isn't just part of your master plan to play along with that nasty rumor someone started about us?"

Dillon snorted softly. "Believe me, what I have in mind for those losers will be a done deal after tonight. I still want you here with me."

"When are you planning to tell me the details?"

He grinned wickedly. "I've told you everything you need to know. After the class tonight, you do your thing. Stretch. Meditate. Think about how wonderful it's going to be spending the entire weekend settling into our home and making this place shine with all of your beautiful stuff... and as soon as you're through, you come to the weight room to get me."

She recoiled from the thought a second time.

"Baby, do you trust me?"

"Yes, but—"

"Are you done running away from the ugliness in the world?"

"I don't like revenge, Dillon. It sort of goes against everything I believe."

"This isn't revenge. It's the truth. I know you place a high value on that too. Isn't it high time people realized that I love you?"

"It's been—"

"If you say twelve days again, I might be offended. If it were twelve months or twelve hours, there's really no difference. The people who have known me even a little bit over there know damn well that I wouldn't behave that way toward any woman I went out with. After tonight, they'll get the message loud and clear. The days of my one night stands are over. And the woman I love deserves to have everyone who has ever harbored a nasty thought toward her see the truth."

"I'd feel better if I knew what you plan to do."

"I'm just gonna make it clear exactly how I feel about you. I'm not ashamed of it, Andrea." He paused. Minuscule doubt flickered in his eyes.

"I'm not ashamed either, Dillon. Not at all. You really are too good to be true, but I know you are the most sincere human being I've ever known. Just promise me that this isn't going to be some sort of ugly confrontation. I have to work in this place. Remember?"

"I do. Let me make sure nobody messes with you again."

"You promise not to be angry?"

Dillon laughed softly and wrapped her in his arms. "I promise that this will be a night neither one of us ever forgets. I promise that you'll look back on it and only feel happiness."

"Ok. Let's do it."

"All of it?"

Andrea nodded and embraced the sense of calm that resulted from trusting him completely. "Everything. The move, the message, all of it."

"And if Sam shows up again?"

"I'll tell him that I love you, that he can't scare me anymore and that he needs to find his own way in life."

Chapter 17

Everything that Andrea brought to her small, partially furnished home was packed in boxes and stored neatly in the living room before she and Dillon drove to the gym for the last class in the introductory course for tantric sex concluded.

The doctor credited her physical condition for the rapid recovery from her injuries, even though Andrea still wore the bruises. In her heart, she knew that Dillon was a large part of why she healed quickly. He helped spark something inside that had eluded her for years. More than love, more than healing. There was liberation in the trust she placed in him so willingly.

Before the last class wrapped up, Rob piped up with his final question. "All right, you guys. I can't speak for anybody else, but Marie and I are dying to know the answer to this question. Does Dillon come into every class you teach on this subject pretending to be the reluctant participant just to put all of us guys at ease?"

Andrea's fingers sifted through the hair at the nape of Dillon's neck. "Should we tell them the truth and shatter a rumor before it starts?"

Dillon grinned. "I rather like that idea. Allow me."

He started from the beginning, the unwelcome gift at Christmastime from his sister and ended with the truth, that Kelly figured the sparks would fly if she could ever get Dillon and Andrea to meet.

"Seriously? That first class was the first time you met? Wow," Rob shook his head. "I figured you guys had to have been a couple for a long time."

"Oh Rob," Marie jabbed his ribs with her elbow. "Don't embarrass them."

"I'm not," Dillon said. "I met the girl of my dreams because of that crazy Christmas gift. It's the truth. I can honestly say that I have never loved anyone as completely as I love my cinnamon girl."

Andrea sank into their embrace deeply. She nibbled at his lips. "And I love you too, my precious."

Rob grinned and glanced away from them. "Well, if it wasn't part of the class before, you ought to consider it when you start the next one," he said. "Seeing the two of you together is downright motivational, especially to partners who aren't sure there's any benefit in all this stuff."

"Maybe we will," Dillon grinned, "after I get some advanced training at home first."

"You give private lessons, Andrea?" Marie asked.

"No."

"Yes," Dillon said. "To me, but only because she lives with me now."

"Congratulations, man," Rob said. "And Andrea, if you ever teach something more than introductory classes, let Marie know. We'd come back."

The room was empty before Dillon and Andrea noticed.

"I think he complimented you," Dillon said. "Your worst skeptic wants to learn more."

"Would you consider coming back for the introductory classes? It worked so well, having someone I love to help me show the beginning steps of all of this to the class."

"You certainly won't have any classroom volunteers in the future," Dillon growled playfully. "No way am I letting you crawl into some other guy's lap."

"I could," she said, "you know, go through the mechanics with every guy on the planet."

"You think?"

"But there would only be one connection for me."

"Mmm, good girl," he murmured. "If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer not to test that theory. While I have complete faith in your commitment to us, I don't think dangling temptation in front of other men is very fair. They have no chance with you, after all."

"Dillon, let's go home. Let's forget about whatever you planned to do tonight, and just start our life instead. I don't want to wait anymore—"

"We need to do this," he patted her backside. "Up. Do your yoga. Come get me when you're finished. You know where to find me."

"Why do we need to do this? What difference does it make what other people think? We know the truth. In time, they'll see that we're not having a fling."

"This is about more than that, Andrea. Trust me?"

She nodded. "I'll see you in about an hour then."

Dillon held her close before she could move out of his lap. "Less. I don't think I can stay away for a whole hour. Surprise me."

*~*~*~*~*

Andrea's nerves held out for almost a half hour before she was nearly overwhelmed with dread. The only way to put an end to it without simply running away was to straighten her spine and make the trek from the yoga room to the weight room. A tiny part of her heart feared that she'd walk in and hear more of the same vile comments directed at her.

Love wouldn't let the fear take root this time. Andrea slipped into her jeans and slung her exercise bag over one shoulder. She slipped out of the room and sucked in a calming breath.

"He won't hurt me. He loves me. I trust him. I do."

The weight room was quiet except for the sounds of men pumping iron, grunting, and if sweat had a sound, it would've been audible too. Her eyes scanned the room. Without the voices and hateful laughter, she recognized no one from her trip to the same room Thursday night.

And then Dillon caught her eye. Andrea's jaw dropped. He wasn't lifting weights at all. He and Bobby stood on the opposite side of the room talking quietly. Bobby didn't look pleased. In fact, he looked downright pissed off.

Andrea's heart seized. What had Dillon done before she arrived? Was there a confrontation? Something had to explain why no one in the room spoke a single word. She caught the mountain range of silicone out of the corner of her eye. Andrea turned her head. Heather glared at her with another woman, one Andrea didn't recognize, but was the same type. Blonde, busty, and didn't look like she had any business in a room filled with serious weight training equipment.

"Honey?"

Her gaze returned to Dillon. He beckoned with one hand and smiled.

Quickly, Andrea crossed the space separating them. Dillon reeled her in against his side and continued talking to Bobby.

"So I think it's a great idea. I know I'd love the new equipment. You've got quite a few members who are equally serious about weight training as I am. And if it weeds out some of those who aren't here to work out, all the better."

"You don't think the sheer size would intimidate people from using the other equipment?"

Dillon chuckled. "Look around, Bobby. You've got three quarters of the people in this room who are serious about fitness, and the rest are here like it's some kind of spectator sport at best, at worst, a single's bar." He squeezed Andrea's waist gently. "Not that I didn't meet Miss Right at the gym, but Andrea's not the average girl around here."

Bobby smiled. "No, she certainly isn't."

"I think if you put the equipment for serious patrons in here and move the beginner stuff to another room, it would bode well for those of us who come here for health and fitness. I mean, seriously. You can pump a one pound barbell from the front seat of the car at a stop light. You don't need to take up space in a room like this for that nonsense."

"Jennifer has been nagging me about the social... deterioration around here. Are you sure she didn't put you up to talking to me about this?"

Dillon grinned. "No, she didn't have a thing to do with it, but there was sort of an inciting event. Last night, Andrea came in here looking for me and overheard the gossip mill grinding out a rather disturbing rumor."

Andrea cringed when his tone rose loud enough to be heard throughout the quiet space. The weight machines clanked softer, as if all activity slowed as to not drown out what he said.

"Seems that somebody around here thinks that I'm quite the jerk, that somebody put me up to going out with Andrea as a lark. Naturally, I was pretty upset when she told me what she heard. I mean, even if I wasn't in love with her I'd never treat her that way. What kind of man behaves like that to the woman he wants to marry?"

Andrea's eyes widened. "What?"

Dillon captured her gaze and held it. "You heard me. I said I want to marry you."

"Dillon..."

"I know, this isn't exactly the sort of place a man proposes to the woman he loves, but I thought, why not? Why not get down on one knee and tell you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you in the very room where the most hateful people I can imagine tried to hurt you?" He slid down to one knee and dug two fingers into the pocket of his jeans.

Andrea clapped one hand over her mouth.

Dillon pulled a ring from his pocket and held it up. "Andrea Witt, will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?"

She collapsed to her knees in front of him and threw her arms around his neck. "You crazy man. Oh Dillon!"

"Is that a yes?"

She nodded. Tears blinded her eyes. "Yes, yes of course it's a yes."

Dillon slipped the ring on her finger, one that Andrea showed no interest in seeing just yet. He rose from the floor and lifted her up with him since she was still wrapped around him like a wild vine.

Bobby chuckled and patted Dillon on the back. "Congratulations, my friend. You're lucky she said yes. I can't think of many women who would under the circumstances."

Andrea peeled away enough to peer at Bobby. "What circumstances?"

"In the weight training room at the gym? C'mon, Andrea. It doesn't exactly scream romance."

She gazed into Dillon's eyes. "Are you nuts? This was the most romantic place he could've ever chosen." Andrea finally held the ring up for inspection. "Oh, Dillon, it's beautiful!"

The large diamond was set in a wide rose gold band that had infinity symbols engraved on either side of the center stone which gleamed with a slightly lavender-blue hue in the light.

"It reminds me of your eyes."

"Gag!"

Dillon's eyes settled on a point across the room, narrowed and sparked with disapproval. "I see somebody got the message loud and clear," he murmured.

"Please don't let them ruin this moment," Andrea pleaded.

"They can't," he said, "but I got the answer I needed. Bobby, I suspect those two are behind the horrible rumor someone started about me, about how I feel about the woman I'm going to marry."

Bobby watched Heather and Rachel's hasty retreat from the weight room. "I think you're right. While I can't do anything too severe about Rachel, I can and will have a serious talk with Heather."

"A talk? She deserves to be fired," Dillon said.

"Let him handle it, Dillon. I work here too. I just want everyone to get along. Let's go home now. Please?"

Dillon nodded. "Yeah, let's do that. Have a good weekend, Bobby. Give my best to Jennifer."

They made their way toward the door. One of the men stopped Dillon before they left. He held up one fist for a bump.

"Congrats, man. Don't let the gossips ruin your moment. Not everybody around here is a jerk like Steve and Warren."

"Are they part of what went on in here last night?" Dillon asked.

"Oh yeah, but consider the source. You figured those guys out your first day here."

"Kyle, were you in here last night?"

He nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if Heather was part of what went on, even if she wasn't here when it happened, but the one who started the rumor, or at least suggested it to Steven and Warren was Rachel. I figured she was pissed at you about something again. Now I know what it was."

Andrea pressed closer to Dillon's side. "She's been angry at him before?"

Kyle's face flushed. "Sorry, man. Guess I shouldn't have brought that up."

"Andrea knows I went out with her. Once."

"And you never called her again," Kyle said. "Some of these women don't take kindly to that. I never figured Rachel for one of 'em, since she loves to brag about her uh... well..."

"Sexual conquests?" Andrea supplied.

"Nice way of putting it, Andrea. But yeah, that's exactly what she does. She's part of a group around here that does some pretty disgusting shit if you ask me. Hell, my wife won't even come back here to work out with me anymore after Heather hit on me right in front of her."

"You should tell Bobby," Dillon said. "The last thing he wants is to lose customers because he's got a few rotten apples hanging around."

"Karen wanted me to say something to him the night it happened," Kyle said. He shrugged. "I figured it was best to avoid the drama. I'd be careful of those two, Dillon. They're trouble from the word go."

They shook hands, said goodnight and Dillon wrapped his arm around Andrea's waist. "Ready to go home now?"

"I've been ready for more than an hour." She couldn't stop admiring the ring he put on her finger.

"Do you really like it? Kell always said that a woman should be able to pick out her own ring."

"On this item, I disagree with her. It's gorgeous, Dillon. You didn't have to get something so..."

"So what?"

She gazed up at him. "It looks very expensive."

"And I'm not saving money to escape Denver anymore."

"It would seem both of us have stopped running away," Andrea murmured. She fell into step with Dillon. "I'm glad you want to stay here, but if the time comes that you really do want to go back to the place you called home for so long, I don't want you to hesitate because of me. I'll be happy anywhere, as long as we're together."

They strolled arm in arm out of the gym together in the haze of happiness that cocooned them. Only when they reached Dillon's truck did they notice that Officer Herbert was waiting for them.

"Good evening," he said.

"Officer, do you have good news?" Dillon's anxiety level rose and bunched in his shoulder muscles.

"Good news, bad news," he said. "Which would you like first?"

"Good," Andrea said.

"Your ex-husband left town today after we had our serious conversation. I can't guarantee that he'll never come back, but I think we reached an understanding that no matter where he is, if there are any more shenanigans with your property, he'll be hearing from us no matter where he is."

"Then you don't think he's the one who assaulted her?"

"Not personally, no," Herbert said. "I can't say this private detective he hired wasn't involved—yet, but we're still investigating. What I can tell you is that we found fingerprints on the gas cap inside the ruined car. They didn't belong to Sam Clement. We'd like you to come down and submit your prints for comparison, Ms. Witt. Do you think you could do that tonight?"

"Hmm, can it wait until tomorrow? I taught one class tonight and I'm pretty exhausted. We were just heading home," Andrea said.

"That's fine. Just come over to the precinct on North Colorado Boulevard in the morning."

"We'll be there," Dillon said. "But if you're sure the print wasn't Sam's, isn't it likely that it is Andrea's and won't help solve this case?"

"It could be," Herbert said. "Then again, if the print belongs to the perp, it could be very helpful if this person already has a criminal record. If they don't, and I catch a break with another suspect, it'll just be another piece of hard evidence that'll convict this bastard for a couple of felonies."

"Then you're sure that the vandalism is related to my assault?"

"Ma'am, it's hard to believe they're not related. We don't see a whole lot of genuine coincidence in my line of work. Stay with your boyfriend and make sure you're not coming out alone to your car in the middle of the night. In the meantime, I'll keep working on this investigation for as long as I've got leads to follow. We'll get it figured out."

Dillon extended one hand. "Thank you, Officer Herbert. I appreciate what you've done so far. We both do. Just so you're aware, we're packing up the rest of Andrea's stuff and she's moving in with me tonight. Not temporarily."

The cop's eyes caught a flash of the ring under the lighting in the parking lot. He grinned. "Well good for that, then. One less thing I have to worry about. You folks take care now. I'll be in touch soon. I doubt I'll be around when you go in for prints tomorrow, so just talk to the desk sergeant."

Dillon opened the door to his truck and nudged Andrea inside. "Ready to go home?"

"I've been ready for awhile now. I'll be glad when this is over, Dillon. I just want to settle into a quiet, calm, happy life."

He leaned over and kissed the bruise on her left temple softly. "Maybe it was enough to scare Sam off when he saw you with me last night."

"Do you still think he was behind this?"

Dillon's eyes darted around the parking lot. "Crazy as this sounds, I sure as hell hope it was him and not somebody else. I can't imagine anyone else with a motive to hurt you like this."

Andrea hoped he was right too, though his niggling doubts seemed to mirror her own.

Chapter 18

Dillon packed the freight elevator in the building where his loft was so tightly, there was barely room for him and Andrea to ride up to the top floor with her belongings. He grinned and smashed her against the single load of boxes.

"We could've made more than one trip," she chuckled.

"Oh, so the ring's on your finger and now you have a problem being in tight quarters with me?" He nibbled at her lips. "The honeymoon's over and it hasn't even started yet."

"I think I have Ganesha poking me in the back."

"Which one is Ganesha?"

Andrea wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'll teach you all about them later. Right now, I'd rather that you keep kissing me."

"Hmm," Dillon purred. "In that case, we could end up riding the elevator all night. While that wouldn't be so terrible, I can certainly imagine more comfortable places to continue this activity."

"Dillon, does Kelly know that you planned to propose to me tonight?"

He smiled curiously and shook his head. "Contrary to what she would have you believe, I don't get her permission before doing anything I want to do, Andrea."

"I was thinking after dinner last Saturday night that it might be fun to have them over here sometime, you know, sort of a thank you for such a great evening."

"Ah, and we could share the happy news that we're not only living together, but we're getting married, that Sam ran off with his tail tucked between his legs, that neither one of us is leaving Denver..."

"Something like that, yes."

The elevator doors slid open behind them. "And when did you want to have this little dinner party?"

"Tomorrow?"

Dillon laughed softly. He flipped the button inside the elevator to keep the doors open. "You really think you can have everything unpacked, put away and plan dinner for my picky sister and her husband by tomorrow night?"

"You're too tired to do this tonight, aren't you? I'm sorry, Dillon."

"I'm not too tired for anything. I was thinking about you." He dangled the keys in front of her. "Get the door while I start unloading. If you're gonna call Kelly, you'd better do it quick before she's out for the night."

"Really?" Andrea's eyes lit up.

"Anything you want."

Dillon smiled while she dashed to the door, unlocked it and scurried inside the loft. He shook his head and wondered if they'd get any sleep before Monday morning. It was worth it, seeing the happiness Andrea felt and the distinct lack of fear in her eyes. It was worth everything.

He started hauling boxes and potted plants into the spacious room. It became obvious that his sparsely decorated home was about to explode with the soft touches that living with Andrea brought with the proposition. Ordinarily, the thought of clutter made his skin crawl. Tonight, his curiosity blossomed. Andrea's style was certainly compatible with his love of precision, even though she had a whole lot more stuff than he usually hauled around.

He overheard bits and pieces of the conversation.

"I'm positive I feel up to it," Andrea said. "Besides, the doctor said I'm fine when I saw him this afternoon. I'm resuming my normal schedule at work come Monday afternoon."

A long pause ensued. Dillon could imagine what objections Kelly contrived. Generally, they related to the mounds of crap she felt she needed to haul around with her whenever she took Chelsea out of the house.

"So get the sitter, or call Scott's parents again. You can't lie to me, Kelly. I know how much they love having their only grandchild over."

Uh-huh. Typical Kelly. Dillon grinned and sauntered over to where Andrea stood with the phone pressed to her ear. He made a quick gesture.

"Hold on, Kelly. I think Dillon wants to talk to you."

He held the phone against his chest. "How much did you tell her?" he asked in a soft whisper.

"About us? Nothing she didn't already know."

He grinned. "Good." Dillon put the phone to his ear. "Listen, Kell, if you don't come to dinner tomorrow night, you're gonna kick yourself for it later on."

"Oh really? And why is that exactly?"

"Because we have a surprise."

"Hmm. I think I already know what it is."

"I sincerely doubt it. Officer Herbert was waiting for us when we left the gym tonight."

Kelly fell silent.

"So if you want to hear all the details before you find out second or third or fourth hand, you'd better haul ass over here for dinner tomorrow night. None of that seven o'clock bullshit either. You'll be here at six sharp, or I won't let you in the building."

"I don't feel right about leaving Chelsea with Scott's folks two weekends in a row, Dilly."

"Oh yeah? Well I happen to know firsthand how great time with grandparents really is. So do you. Let the kid have a break from your neuroses for the night."

"You did not just say that to me."

"Uh, yeah, I did. You're an overprotective, neurotic freak who hauls around way too much crap for one little bitty baby—"

"You're a dead man, Dillon."

He grinned. "So we'll see you at six? Five-thirty if you want cocktails and the dirt before we have dinner."

"We'll be there at five," she said. "Because I'm gonna open a can of whoop-ass before cocktails, whatever this news is and dinner. And this had better be some phenomenal news." Her tone became supremely suspicious. "Come to think of it, this must be enormous if it makes the two of you want to sacrifice a second of private cuddle time to spend an evening with us."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just accuse me of being a cuddler."

Kelly snorted. "You do cuddle— with this one at least. Though it comes as no great surprise to me. She's good for you, Dilly."

"At last, we agree. Now go get your sleep. I don't want you whining all night about how the baby kept you up and your rotten brother kept you from getting any sleep at all."

"I love you," Kelly said. "Even if you are a rotten brother. Give Andrea my love too."

"Yours, mine, everybody else's." Dillon clicked off to the sound of her laughter.

"Then they're coming?" Andrea asked.

"At five. Kelly seems to think she needs to kick my ass for telling the truth."

"Oh, surely she didn't mean that."

"Surely she did, and I did tell the truth. She's neurotic where Chelsea is concerned. Have you seen the junk she thinks she has to haul around just to step out of the house with that child? It's ridiculous. Stroller, car seat, playpen, about a billion diapers and wipes and talc and this disgusting goop for diaper rash, a breast pump, some kind of frozen storage that would be appropriate for transporting organs for donation just to store her breast milk—"

Andrea wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. "I love you, Dillon."

"But?"

"It's her first child. Neither one of you grew up around babies. Her fears are valid in that context."

"I would never be that fussy about a baby."

"Then you haven't avoided being around Chelsea all together?"

"Kell has big mouth."

"I sort of hoped she'd bring the baby with them," Andrea said.

Dillon groaned with mock dread. "We've been engaged for two hours. Please tell me you don't have baby fever already."

Andrea gnawed on her lower lip. "I wouldn't go that far. But we haven't exactly been careful, Dillon."

"And I don't intend to be careful," he said. "Not with you. We'd have gorgeous kids, if you want my opinion."

"Then you wouldn't avoid our baby if we had one?"

Dillon grinned. "No way, but you wouldn't be hauling around all that junk either. Car seat, yes. Our kid would be protected. But that stroller, playpen, trunk you'd take on a round the world cruise nonsense just to go across the street for a cup of tea won't happen."

"Oh?" she chuckled.

"Nope. We'd have one of those sling things you wear over your chest. Babies like them from what I've read. It simulates the same feeling of closeness and security they have in the womb. And there's no need to haul around a billion diapers for a brief trip out of the house, either. How many diaper changes can one expect to need at the grocery store for heaven's sake?"

"Let's finish unloading that elevator," Andrea said. "We can start unpacking in the morning."

Dillon's eyes flooded with concern. "Are you tired?"

She shook her head. "I have other plans for you tonight."

"I have half a dozen boxes, maybe a few more left to bring inside."

Andrea's eyes roved over the stack near the front door. She smiled slyly. "Would you mind getting the rest of my things while I get something ready for us to enjoy together?"

"I'll be done in two minutes."

"No rush," her hand slid up his chest and lingered over the pounding heart beneath strong muscles. "Breathe, my precious. We're going to enjoy this night."

"I have a feeling we're going to enjoy all of them for the rest of our lives."

"Wait for me out here?"

Dillon's expression grew curious, but he nodded.

It took less time than he predicted to hastily heft the last of the boxes out of the elevator into his apartment. He closed and locked the door, waited while minutes ticked by and wondered what Andrea was doing so much that temptation to find her almost overwhelmed him.

He was about to succumb when she appeared wearing a fluffy robe. Her bare feet peeked out from beneath the hem. Dillon licked his lips.

Andrea crooked one finger in invitation.

"You look amazingly sexy in my bathrobe," he murmured.

She pulled his hand to the back of her head. "Will you let my hair down, precious?"

"Of course."

Andrea started unbuttoning his shirt while he played in her hair. She smoothed it over his shoulders and tugged the cuffs over his large hands. Fingers slipped into the waistband of his jeans. Dillon sucked in a sharp breath.

"Easy," she murmured. The zipper vibrated against his already aroused cock and elicited a soft groan. "Feel good so far?"

"Yes," he said softly.

Andrea slid both hands around the waist of his jeans to the back and inside his briefs. She stroked his ass with a firm hand. "I trusted your love tonight. Can you do the same with mine now?"

"You know I do."

"Completely, Dillon?"

He nodded. "You'd never hurt me."

"We almost hurt each other very much this week. I can only imagine in my worst nightmare what might've happened if I hadn't realized that the man I know and love isn't the person someone tried to make me believe he was."

"It didn't happen," Dillon whispered.

"Human nature makes us want to strike back when someone hurts us. Even with what I believe and try so hard to practice every day, it was still my first instinct," she said. "I need to make that feeling go away forever, Dillon." Her hands continued to caress and explore. "I need to replace it with complete love."

"You don't still have doubts about me, do you?"

"No," she murmured. "But I need to heal that hurt. Will you do it with me?"

Dillon nodded.

She offered her hand. "Then come with me."

Chapter 19

He took Andrea's hand and followed her into the bathroom. It flickered in the rosy glow of candle light. Light steam filled the air like a warm, moist blanket. She reached for the tie on the bathrobe and loosed it.

Dillon took his cue and pushed the garment off her shoulders.

"One rule," Andrea said. "We talk without words in here. Hands, lips, all the rest, but no words."

He blew out a slow shaking breath and nodded. Andrea took his hand and led him to the warmed shower. He stepped inside behind her. Dillon let her take the lead. This was her fantasy, her need, her night.

Andrea took a bottle of body wash in one hand and flipped the cap. She drizzled the creamy liquid directly onto his chest and began stroking it over the flesh with exploring fingers. The scent of oranges and spice invaded Dillon's nostrils. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, just like their first kiss, sharing breath while communicating with her body the love she felt.

Dillon's hands gripped her waist gently and he fell into the rhythm of circular breathing. He gasped when one of her fingernails scraped over the small brown disk on his right pectoral muscle. Andrea broke the kiss and watched his expression while she repeated the action.

His fingers kneaded her flesh, like a cat's paws in plush carpet. She caught his gaze and drew in another slow breath, coaxing the same from him.

No talking was more difficult than he ever imagined.

She took one of his hands and slid it over her breast.

Dillon groaned softly. Andrea purred in response.

Ok, so no words, but sounds weren't off limits. Good thing too, because her soapy hand slid lower and cupped his sex. If the soft touch wasn't enough, she had to watch what she was doing as she did it. Dillon couldn't drag his eyes away from the erotic image of her watching the hand gripping the base of his shaft and slowly sliding to the flared tip again and again.

She must've sensed that he was teetering on the precipice of orgasm, because she suddenly stopped and gripped his shoulder. Dillon turned against the wall of the large shower and braced his hands against the tiles. His eyes fluttered shut as he wallowed in sensory overload. Her fingers made long sudsy strokes down his back, back up to dig deeply into his tense muscles. He focused on breathing and savored the soft fingers that soothed away the frantic arousal she sparked moments earlier.

Andrea's hands slid lower and began the same slow, thorough massage on his ass. Dillon groaned. Couldn't have tensed if he wanted to. Odd that he didn't as she worked her way toward the crevice between his muscled cheeks and slid one slippery finger along its length. He adjusted his legs into a wide stance automatically.

It earned a kiss along the ridge of one shoulder blade. Her lips whispered thank you without making a single sound.

Dillon hissed softly when her thin finger slipped inside him. His cock jumped to life again a second later. He moaned deep, from the tips of his toes when her massage continued inside, slow, firm yet gentle at the same time. He felt his cock twitch and swell to almost painful proportions.

With her free hand, Andrea reached around and cupped his balls. She squeezed gently before giving a firm tug. The orgasm that rushed toward him receded again. Dillon's breath caught in his throat. She nudged him under the shower head and rubbed her slick body against him while water sluiced through his hair.

Dillon gripped her shoulders and pulled her up for a deep kiss. She pulled away and turned her head, baring her neck to him. He ate a slow path, nipping and sucking his way to the hollow of her throat while Andrea fumbled for something in the shower rack.

A moment later, fingers dug into his wet hair. Andrea began a slow massage of his scalp. Dillon pulled back and wiped the water from his eyes before shampoo followed the wet tracks. Their eyes met. He bit down on his lips and held in the words that tried to bubble forth.

Dillon stepped her back away from the stinging spray of water and dropped to one knee. While she played with his hair for a change, he slid two fingers between her thighs. Couldn't say the words. That didn't mean he couldn't show her what he felt. She whimpered when the wet digits glided deep inside her. Dillon began thrusting them slowly. His thumb found her clit and flicked the hard nubbin with the lightest, teasing contact.

She gasped and gripped handfuls of hair in both hands. She pulled his head closer.

"Mmm," he moaned. Fingers slid out and spread her open to his eager mouth. His tongue lashed her quickly. Andrea's knees nearly buckled. She steadied herself with both hands sliding over his shoulders and digging in for purchase.

He opened wide and suckled her swollen flesh into his mouth. His tongue rubbed slowly. One finger slid deep inside her again, felt the rhythmic contractions began to pulse. Her thighs trembled. Andrea gasped and moaned above him as she took her turn teetering on the edge of intense pressure that threatened to shatter her in another second.

He pulled away and gazed up at her. Every ounce of adoration he felt sparkled in his eyes. Her chest expanded as she dragged air into her lungs. Dillon rose and lifted her into his arms for another bone melting kiss while he reestablished their breathing this time.

Andrea melted into the embrace. The frantic groping relaxed into tender caresses. She nudged him back under the water and rinsed his hair. Her body slid around him under the spray.

Dillon licked rivulets of water that ran between her breasts while she soaked her long ebony hair. Andrea gripped his wrist and turned the palm of his hand upward. She squeezed a large blob of shampoo into his hand.

He slicked it through her hair, gathered it into his hands and began working it into a heavy lather. Their eyes met and held. Love whispered through the gaze, expanded and enveloped them completely.

No words. He didn't need them. Dillon never dreamed of such wordless talk in his life, but the first taste of it made him hungry for more. He slid his fingers through her hair and combed the sudsy length of it.

Andrea backed into the shower spray. Dillon gripped her shoulder and turned her into it. He tilted her head back against his chest and lifted her chin. One hand cupped a breast while he sought her lips for another kiss. Andrea gripped his free hand and slid it over her belly, lower.

Dillon hummed softly and turned her toward him. His hands slipped under her arms and lifted her. Andrea's legs automatically wrapped around his waist. She adjusted her body while Dillon readied his cock to enter her. He groaned when the tip found entry. Hands slid underneath her shapely ass and gripped her firmly.

Andrea's head rolled back. She cried out softly before bracing her hands on his shoulders. She lifted herself higher and slid back down slowly.

Dillon stepped into the pelting spray again and let the suds wash away from her hair while she continued to grind her body on his straining erection. The soft growls from her throat grew more frantic. Dillon silenced her with another deep kiss. His tongue fell into a gentle rhythm in her mouth. He braced one hand on the shower wall and leaned her against it for leverage. He snapped his hips and forced himself deep inside her.

She shrieked. Muscles seized. Her fingers clawed at his skin while he repeated the rapid, hard thrusts into her.

Dillon felt pleasure tingling at the base of his spine. He stopped moving suddenly and watched Andrea gasp and pant while the muscles of her pelvis continued to grip him tightly. Carefully, he displaced her before she pushed him over the edge.

She dropped to her knees in front of him and kissed the tip of his cock. Dillon groaned and dug the fingers of one hand through her squeaky clean hair. They tangled in the mass. Ouch. That couldn't have felt good.

She stopped licking and looked up at him. Dillon fumbled for her conditioner and squirted a creamy mountain on top of her head. As he worked it through her hair, she refocused. Nibble. Lick. A nip at the head with her teeth.

Dillon struggled to concentrate on breathing a second before her mouth engulfed him in the warm wetness of her mouth. He groaned loudly.

She tugged at his balls again. One finger swiped through her conditioned hair and slid between his legs, up and around to the back again.

Dillon couldn't suppress the deep moan for another second when she began massaging his prostate while her mouth suckled deeply on his cock. The ache built, while he breathed and fought completion. Too good, too beautiful. Didn't want it to end yet. Ever. Sparks showered behind his closed eyelids. Ten more seconds and something was going to rupture. He reached down and cupped her cheek, nudging her away from him.

He scooped her off the shower floor and quickly rinsed Andrea's hair. His hands fumbled at the shower controls until the water stopped. Dillon dragged her out of the shower and hastily wrapped a towel around her hair before he draped the bathrobe over her shoulders. He grabbed a towel and patted the majority of moisture from his body.

Andrea pulled the towel from him and started drying him slowly. Dillon growled and tossed it to the floor. He scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom.

"Dillon... Dillon..."

"Not done with you yet." He laid her on the bed and opened the robe. Droplets of water still clung to her skin. His greedy mouth began sipping the moisture away.

"Oh my God," she moaned.

"Should I make you stop talking too?"

"I— I can't hold it back anymore," she gasped when his tongue laved beneath one breast, then the other. "I love you so much, Dillon."

He poised above her. "Yeah, I know."

Andrea's hand smoothed over his cheek. "And?"

"You tell me," he murmured.

She smiled shyly. "You really love me too."

Dillon eased his thigh between her knees, and she opened to him eagerly. "I thought I knew what that was before. I was so wrong," he said. "This is everything, Andrea. You mean everything to me."

Instead of passing out from exhaustion after Andrea finally pushed him over the edge, Dillon felt alive and energized. He pulled her between his thighs as he rested against the headboard on their bed. "Comb," he murmured in her ear.

"You liked that?" She reached for the nightstand and retrieved the comb he used on her hair earlier.

He leaned her slightly forward and began to gently unsnarl the tangles in her hair. "I more than liked it. If I stop to analyze this— or try— I can barely breathe."

"Is this about the twelve day thing again?"

Dillon nuzzled her shoulder with his chin. "Thirteen now, technically, and that was your hang-up, not mine. But no, that's not what I meant. Just so you know, I'd probably rather die than admit this to anybody else. Life can be pretty empty sometimes. Mine sort of felt like a bottomless pit of despair and loneliness."

Andrea turned her head and peered at him. "Because you missed your old life so much?"

He shook his head. "I missed the familiarity of my habits and routines, the people who didn't pry. They knew me. They respected my boundaries. Don't kid yourself. It was every bit as empty as life here has been. Only the faces and perpetual motion in life provided comfort. Being out here with Kell was supposed to help me feel more connected. At least, that's what she said."

"It didn't help, did it?"

"No," he said softly. "If anything, it made me feel like I was outside a purpose more than ever. You know how much I love her."

"Yeah," she said softly. "It's not the same as having your own purpose though, is it? Being on the edges of someone else's happiness."

He kissed the back of her neck. "I knew you'd understand. It's been the same thing for you, I suspect."

"Until now," she said. "I thought I understood so many things, Dillon. I guess in a way, it's like memorizing a road map. You know how to get to the destination, but it's not the same as actually venturing out on the journey."

Dillon stilled his hands and abandoned the comb for a moment. He hugged her close. "Are you telling me that while you knew all these wonderful ways of being intimate with the one you love, that perhaps I'm the first person you've actually shared any of that knowledge with?"

"Shared it firsthand?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "Does that make me a hypocrite?"

"Oh cinnamon girl."

"Does that mean you're disappointed?"

"No," he hummed into her ear. "It means you're so very precious... and fearless and strong and amazing, and I can't even begin to imagine how fortunate I am to have you in my life."

"Why?"

"Because it occurs to me exactly how much you had to trust me to do what we did tonight. And all I had to do was trust you just a little bit in return."

A slow blush crept up her cheeks. "Well, maybe you had to trust me more than a little bit, Dillon. That thing I did—"

"I loved it. Every second."

"And I didn't even get to do everything I wanted to," she said softly.

Dillon groaned. "There was more?"

"A little bit, but you kept making me so crazy that I couldn't focus on—"

"Tell me what else you wanted to do."

"It's silly," she whispered.

"If it came from your heart, it most certainly wasn't. Tell me."

Andrea's hand caressed his cheek. "I wanted to shave you."

"The goatee?"

"No, just around it."

Dillon grinned. He lifted her over his leg and scooted off the bed.

"What're you doing?"

He clasped her hand in his and dragged her back to the bathroom where he promptly perched against the edge of the vanity and pressed his razor into her hand. "Do it," he said. "And when we're done, I'm going to braid your hair, and then we're unpacking your life into mine."

Chapter 20

Andrea scrubbed the blue-black ink from her fingertips with the wipe provided by the sergeant at Officer Herbert's police precinct. "How long will it take to determine if the fingerprints Officer Herbert found are mine?" she asked.

The burly sergeant passed the card to one of his underlings. "Well, Herb's been pushin' pretty hard on this one, so he asked that your prints be compared to the ones he lifted off the gas cap right away." He shook his head and chuckled. "Like a dog with a bone on this one. I reckon he didn't explain the odds of us actually findin' whoever attacked you, did he?"

"Slim," Andrea said. She felt the tension radiating from Dillon's body.

"I should think the police would take attempted murder a little more seriously," he snarled.

"Well, it don't look that way from where I stand, sir. If whoever clubbed your little lady here—"

"My fiancée."

"Uh, yeah, well, whatever. But whoever clubbed her over the head could've easily finished 'er off. Herb said she was unconscious for 'bout an hour before she called nine-eleven."

"So what, we have to wait for him to actually kill her before you people do anything about this?"

The sergeant scowled. "I didn't say that. Herbert's workin' this case hard, sir. If he don't catch this guy, it ain't for lack of effort on his part."

"Please convey my thanks to him," Andrea said. "I appreciate all he's tried to do, sir." She tugged Dillon's arm.

Reluctantly, he followed her out of the precinct. Muttering.

"I know you're unhappy about that, Dillon, but he's right. Officer Herbert is doing everything he can to find out who attacked me. He probably scared off the guilty party already," she said. "You're right about Sam. He is a coward."

"One who'd better hope I never lay eyes on him again," Dillon growled his irritation. "It frustrates the hell out of me, Andrea. What if, God forbid, we're wrong? What if Sam was telling the truth, that he had no idea where you were until you called your folks?"

"I don't believe that," she said softly. "He vandalized my car in the past. If he was hanging around to see if I'd run again, and saw us together, it could've very well made him angry enough to hurt me again."

Dillon stroked the yellowing bruise that seeped down her cheek. "He'd better never touch you again. I mean that, Andrea. It makes me crazy to think what he could've done to you that night."

"We don't have to worry about him anymore. After he got a good look at you, do you really have to wonder if he thought better of his plan to keep harassing me? I don't. You're big enough to make even someone as arrogant as Sam pause."

"I'd feel better if we at least knew for sure that he's the one who did this." Dillon opened the door to his truck and helped Andrea inside. "But you're right. Grumbling about it doesn't solve anything. At least we've got someone who gives a damn looking into it. At least we didn't get stuck with Sergeant Don't-Give-a-Rat's-Ass."

Andrea smiled— and yawned.

"Aw, are you finally getting tired?"

She nodded. "Grocery store. We can nap until three, and then I've got to get dinner started."

"It's not too late to call Kelly and change our dinner date," he said. "We could snuggle up and sleep the whole day away."

"As tempting as that sounds, I'd hate to get your days and nights completely mixed up. I doubt your students would appreciate a sleepy instructor come Monday morning."

An hour later, they were curled up together dozing when Andrea murmured, "Oh no. We forgot to pick up my car. It's still parked in the garage at the house."

"Mmm," Dillon mumbled. "It's fine there. We'll pick it up tomorrow. Let's sleep. Didn't realize how tired I was."

Andrea smiled and rested her head against his chest. The slow steady rub of his heartbeat soon lulled her to sleep too.

*~*~*~*~*

Dillon slid the loft door open and grinned at his big sister. "Hello, Trouble. Scott."

Kelly stepped into the loft with wide eyes. "Oh my God. You let her redecorate the place? Dilly, what on earth is going on with you? This is downright... shocking. In a good way, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I've seen anything hanging on the walls of anywhere you've lived since you were old enough to point and insist that Grams take the crap down."

Andrea slipped into the conversation and pressed herself against Dillon's side.

He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I didn't let her redecorate, Kell. She moved in."

His sister's eyes lit up. "Really? That's fantastic!"

"No lecture on moving too fast?" Dillon's eyebrows danced in anticipation of a sisterly dissertation on caution.

"Are you nuts? It's about damn time." She grinned at Andrea. "I should've insisted that he get his butt to class at Christmastime. Had I known things would work out this well, I could've spared myself the perpetual moping around for the past six months."

"So if moving in together isn't such a shock—"

"I wouldn't go that far," Kelly chuckled. "It's just a good kind of shock, Dilly."

"Then I guess it won't stun you into silence when I tell you that Andrea and I are getting married."

The playful teasing evaporated. "Dillon, are you serious?"

"Now this was what I expected," he muttered. "Kell, don't start. We love each other. As you so astutely pointed out, I'm happy, more than you can ever remember."

"I'm not angry," she said quickly. "Shocked. Really, super, sucker-punched with surprise shocked. Are you sure about this? I mean..."

Andrea's smile faded. "You think he's making a mistake."

"No," Kelly said. She turned to Scott as if she expected him to say something to validate her concern. He shrugged. She rolled her eyes. "I don't think it's a mistake, Andrea, and I can't imagine anyone better for my little brother. I just..."

"You're worried that this is a reaction to what happened to her earlier this week," Dillon said. "Don't forget. We are twins. Even though you abandoned logic long ago, it's still buried in there somewhere." He grinned and thumped the side of her head with his knuckles.

"I haven't abandoned anything. I simply grew into different priorities," she said.

"And so have I," Dillon said. "I know how it looks, Kell, but honestly, this is exactly where things were headed whether Andrea was attacked or not. I love her. I'm anxious when she isn't here. I can't imagine a single day without being with her. We know how we feel— without a single doubt. Why should we wait?"

Scott finally spoke. "So, on your timetable, we can expect the wedding when? Next Saturday?" He punctuated the question with a lopsided grin. "'Cause you know, we're open next Saturday."

Kelly swatted at her husband. "Oh for God's sake, Scott. Stop teasing them."

Dillon laughed. "Yeah, Scott. How dare you tread on her sacred territory. So Kell, are you going to congratulate us or what?"

"Of course," she murmured. Kelly stepped close and hugged both of them. "I am happy for you, and I'm delighted that you're not only giving me a sister in law but that she's someone I already adore. It is all right to slow down a little bit now, though. You don't have to get married immediately."

"Huh," Dillon grunted. "I kinda liked Scott's idea about next Saturday. Why wait, right?"

"Dillon, that might be a little hasty," Andrea said. "We still haven't talked to my parents, and I'd really like them to get to know you before we get married."

"Atta girl," Kelly grinned. "Can I help with dinner at all? This is obviously the big news that Dilly wanted to share and not something related to the unpleasantness this week."

Dillon followed them into the kitchen. "Not exactly, Kell. The cops found a fingerprint on the gas cap of Andrea's car. We found out earlier today that it isn't hers. Unfortunately, it wasn't Clement's either, but Officer Herbert hasn't given up the search for whoever attacked her."

"Andrea, are you all right?" Kelly asked.

She nodded. "I still think Sam is behind everything that happened. I also think he won't bother me again, not since Dillon confronted him Thursday night."

"He was here and the cops still don't think he was involved? Unbelievable!"

"Now, Kelly, the guy probably had an alibi," Scott said. "If he's been harassing her all along, don't you suppose he's gotten pretty good at covering his tracks?"

"Yeah, but geez, how obvious can the guy get?"

"Herbert had a stern chat with him," Dillon said, "before he left town and indicated that he never plans to return. I guess he got the message. The cops here won't screw around if they find out he was back and something else happens to Andrea's car."

Kelly snorted. "Who else would've done it, considering her history with this guy? And where would somebody get sea water in Denver anyway? The aquarium?"

Something clicked in Dillon's very logical mind. His eyes narrowed.

"What? Tell me what you're thinking," Andrea said. "I know that look."

Kelly grinned. She nudged Scott with her elbow.

"I can't believe we didn't think of that before," he said. "Salt water fish."

"So? What about them?"

"There's a huge salt water aquarium at the gym," Dillon said. "Bobby's so damn proud of that giant lion fish out in the front lobby, he talks to the damn thing every morning."

Andrea frowned. "He does?"

Dillon rolled his eyes. "You'd have to be there at the crack of dawn to see him with it, Andrea, but yeah. We walk past it every day. I can't believe nobody considered that the sea water that ended up in your gas tank could've come from that aquarium."

"That's ridiculous," Kelly snorted. "Everybody at the gym loves Andrea. Nobody would intentionally hurt her like that, not with the car or by attacking her with a bat."

"Crowbar," Dillon corrected absently. "Rob — one of her students in our class said it looked like somebody hit her with a crowbar. I asked the doctor yesterday and he said that her injuries were consistent with a weapon that shape and size."

"Dillon, you don't seriously believe that Bobby would attack one of his own employees. You know him. Hell, we all know Jennifer too, and she'd have his ass—"

"I don't think it was Bobby," he interrupted tersely. "And I know for a fact that not everybody at the gym loves her." Dillon's eyes scanned Andrea's face. "Honey, remember the night that Heather was so nasty to you while you waited for me out front?"

She nodded, eyes widening.

"Was that the first time she's ever been rude to you?"

"No, but—"

"Did you ever tell Bobby how she treats you?"

"Of course not, Dillon. She's one person. One out of how many who work at the gym? Why would I complain about one person who has a heart full of misery and bitterness? It's her issue not mine. I can't fix—"

"Shh," he pressed one finger over her lips. "Is she the only one who treated you badly?"

"No," Andrea mumbled behind his finger. She kissed the tip.

Dillon groaned softly and cupped her cheek with one hand. "Who else?"

"Everybody loves her," Kelly said. "The yoga classes are the most popular at the gym according to Jennifer, and she would know. Why, just about everybody that used to go to that ridiculous low-impact aerobic class switched to Andrea's yoga when they hired her last summer. I know I did. Why do cardio that isn't really cardio after all, when I could take something that actually helped me stay fit while I was pregnant with Chelsea?"

"Baby," Dillon said softly, "how many people know about what Sam did to you before you finally showed up in Denver? Don't tell me it was just Kelly and Jennifer, because I overheard two women in one of your classes wondering if I was Sam when I showed up to meet you after class one night."

"I didn't personally tell very many people at all," Andrea said. "But I suppose it's possible that someone might've..."

"Gossiped about it?"

She nodded. "I only told Kelly all of it. And you."

"But other people knew about what happened to your car?"

She nodded again. "I figured that Chuck should know, since he's usually the guy on duty at the front desk when I leave at night. I didn't say anything about Sam, just that I'd had problems with vandalism in other cities. We laughed about it, about why somebody would target my poor battered car for any reason. She didn't always look that bad though."

Scott injected his opinion into where Dillon's thoughts were headed. "Surely you don't think Heather is bright enough to know that pouring sea water into a gas tank would destroy the engine, Dillon. She's... well, she might be rude and mean to people, but she's not particularly..."

"She's dumber than a box of rocks," Kelly said, "but she also taught that stupid aerobics class that none of us ever broke a sweat in."

"Heather taught it?" Dillon asked.

"Oh my gosh." Andrea's hand flew to her chest. "I had no idea."

"And the people who disliked Andrea," Dillon said grimly, "they're all guys I know, guys who have a specific type."

"Heather?" Kelly asked.

"And Rachel. About half a dozen girls who hang out in the weight room pretending to work out. I don't suppose you recall who didn't leave Heather's class after Andrea showed up and started teaching yoga, do you, Kell?"

"About half a dozen girls... ones that I would've said were your type in the past."

His eyes fluttered shut. Dillon cursed under his breath. "It's my fault," he rasped. "That attack Tuesday night, it's all my fault."

"What on earth are you talking about, Dillon?" Kelly asked. "You'd no more cause something like that —"

"No," he said. "I wouldn't knowingly cause it, but it's my fault just the same."

"What did you do?" Andrea spoke softly. Her hand caressed his chest. "You confronted her for being so unkind to me, didn't you?"

He nodded. "I wasn't going to, but last Tuesday night, when I was leaving the gym to go home and grade midterms, she said something to me as I was leaving. It pissed me off."

"What did she say, Dillon?"

"It wasn't so much what she said, but how she said it. She asked how the sex class was working out for me. I knew she was being sarcastic, mocking you, how you help people. I snapped."

"What did you say?" Kelly asked.

He glanced over Andrea's head at his sister for a moment. "I called her Helga. You know, as in Hagar The Horrible and his wife Helga? And then I told her what a mean, despicable person I think she is. I told her if she can't be nice that I'd rather she not speak to me in the future."

"You think Heather did this to me?"

"I think that Officer Herbert needs to know it's possible," Dillon said. He kissed Andrea's forehead softly. "I'm so sorry. When I think that something I said to her could've caused this, it makes me sick."

"We don't know that she did anything, Dillon," Andrea said. "Just the same, after how you proposed to me, it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to let Officer Herbert know right away."

"How he proposed?" Kelly groaned. "Now what have you done?"

Chapter 21

Kelly raised her wine glass. "I'd like to propose a toast. To the bride — may she bring some common sense to my half-bonehead, half-brilliant brother."

"Aw, c'mon. She liked how I proposed."

"She's in love with you, blinded by it from the look of things," Kelly shook her head. "A gym? Really? This struck you as the romantic setting to tell the woman you love that you want to spend the rest of your life with her? I can't decide which baffles me most. That you did it or that she said yes."

"In the context that he wanted everyone who perpetuated that horrible rumor about his character to know that he is an honorable man, yeah, it was the perfect place," Andrea said. "We had our private moment later."

"At least he didn't screw it up with an ugly ring," Kelly continued ribbing her brother. "That's quite the rock, Andrea. I have to agree with Scott. You two aren't going to wait long for the big day, are you?"

"I'd do it tomorrow if we could," Dillon mumbled over the rim of his wine glass.

"It'll be awhile," Andrea smiled and patted his hand gently. "I'd really like my parents to see firsthand how happy we are, Dillon. I don't have the greatest track record."

"Exactly my point. Your folks are gonna take one look at me and assume that you've found the one person on the planet who could hurt you worse than Sam did."

"No, they won't," she said. "They'll see how much we love each other. They already know you protected me after I was attacked."

"Yeah, but they don't know that I probably made that psycho—"

"Stop it," Kelly chastised. "Heather, if she did this thing, made her own choices. I know you think you're all that where the ladies are concerned, but I have a hard time seeing some stupid girl resorting to violence just because you picked a real woman over the silicone model."

"If she did it, I'm sure it had more to do with her simmering hatred of me that she harbored long before you were part of the landscape, Dillon. If she didn't have a class to teach anymore because all of her members enrolled in my yoga classes, that certainly wouldn't have made her think too highly of me."

"Which isn't your fault, Andrea," Scott said. "If this Heather girl really cared about her job, she might've done the work required to satisfy her students, just like you do. Obviously the majority of Bobby's members are at the gym for the right reasons. It's not anybody's fault that they chose quality over fluff."

"Regardless, this wasn't your fault, Dillon. If Heather tampered with my car, she did it before you were in my class at all. Remember?"

"What I remember is that I came back the first night and spent a very long time with you in a one on one session," he said. "She could've known. She might've even seen us that night."

Andrea stared at her half eaten plate of food and lapsed into silence.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't. I was just remembering that first class. Afterward especially." She looked up at him. "I loved that night, Dillon. I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wanted to kiss you."

"I wish you had asked right away."

"Oh God," Kelly groaned. "How many years of this mushy gushy junk are we gonna have to endure before the honeymoon's over? See if I ever come to dinner at your house again."

Andrea blushed.

Dillon speared her with an unamused stare. "We're never gonna stop the honeymoon, so you may as well get used to it now."

"Oh really?" Kelly smirked. "So you're not planning to have kids— ever?"

"We'll have ten if that's what she wants," Dillon said. "Hell, she could be pregnant right now."

Scott chuckled. "Get some birth control, man. Believe me. When the baby comes, the honeymoon is over. That's just the way it works."

"I think you need more classes," Dillon grinned. "And I don't see any reason why having kids would make your relationship worse. If anything, it should make you closer than you were before."

"It's not worse," Scott said. "Just... different. There's a whole lot of baggage that comes along with the deal."

"Ah," Dillon nodded. "Well, we already talked about all of Kelly's baby accessories. We're not having half that crap. You don't need to carry around a portable nursery just to go from here to there, Kell. It'd be a lot easier if you adopted a more minimalist attitude about it."

Her eyebrow arched high. "I'll take it under advisement. What I was more concerned with is your avoidance of people without— how did you put it? The teeth and the ability to speak."

"You act like holding her is akin to transporting nitroglycerine, Kell. It freaks me out. If I do something wrong, you'd never forgive me."

"As long as you don't shake her or start flinging her up in the air like she's a—"

The telephone rang.

"Excuse me," Dillon said.

"I think he understands the basics of how to handle kids, Kelly. Why did you freak him out like that?" Scott scolded while Dillon answered the phone. "I'm just saying, you are a bit... nervous about people holding her wrong. And he has a point about the portable nursery thing."

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll try to simplify."

Andrea bit back a grin and focused on Dillon.

"Hey Officer. I didn't expect you to call so soon."

Andrea rose and joined him at the telephone in the kitchen.

"Really? Huh. That's interesting." A long pause ensued. "Well, I'd be interested in knowing what she has to say when you track her down. You'll keep us posted, right?"

Andrea itched to yank the phone out of his hands and hear what Officer Herbert had to say herself. She's have to wait.

"Thanks again. We'll be around all weekend if you have any news."

Dillon hung up the phone and stared at Andrea.

"What?"

"I think he's convinced that Heather might've had something to do with this. She isn't home, but he talked to her roommate. Apparently, she's made no secret of her extreme dislike of you. Over the past couple of months, she led her roommate to believe that she was in a relationship with me, if you can believe that."

"Oh my God. She really is a psycho, isn't she?" Kelly said. "Unbelievable."

"I think we should tell Bobby what's going on," Andrea said. "If he had that talk with her last night—"

"She could be a little further off the deep end," Dillon said. "I'll call him now."

Before he could dial the number, Andrea's cell phone rang.

"That can't be Officer Herbert," Dillon said. "I just got off the phone with him. Not only that, he knows you're here."

"Don't panic," Andrea said. "Let's see who it is first."

She grabbed the phone off the counter, checked the caller ID and frowned.

"Who is it?"

"The leasing company I went through to rent my house," she said. "Why would they be calling me on a Saturday night?"

"Answer it," Kelly grew exasperated with the discussion.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Witt?"

"Yes."

"It's Tony Carlson from Denver Properties. Thank God you're all right."

"Excuse me?"

"I just received a phone call from the Denver Fire Department. There's been some sort of accident at the house. They haven't been able to get inside to see if you were there when it happened—"

"What sort of accident?"

"A fire of course," he said. "They told me that there was a vehicle in the garage, so everyone is presuming that you were home at the time of the explosion."

"Explosion?"

"The car, after the fire started," he said. "Are you certain you're all right?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Carlson, obviously. I planned to contact you Monday morning about the lease renewal—"

"It's moot now," he said. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Witt, but grateful that you weren't home when this happened."

"Yes, I'm grateful too. I guess I should head over there so the authorities know I'm all right too."

"I wouldn't suggest that," Carlson said. "They called my office because we're listed as the owner of the property. I'll let them know I've spoken to you and that you're safe. Our insurance will handle the rest, but I hope you've got coverage on your personal belongings."

Andrea's eyes welled with tears. "Yes. My car was all that I left at the house. I moved out last night. That's why I wanted to talk to you Monday."

"I see."

"Mr. Carlson, do they know what caused the fire?"

Dillon's tension enveloped her.

"No, but they assured me that there will be an investigation, just as soon as they get the fire under control."

"Oh my gosh."

"It's pretty bad, from what I know so far. The houses on either side of yours were affected."

"Is everyone all right? The neighbors?"

"I don't have that information, Ms. Witt. I'm sure someone will want to speak to you. I'll give them your number when I let them know you weren't living at the house anymore. If I may ask, what prompted you to leave? Was there a problem?"

Dillon's arms wrapped around her intuitively before the first tears fell.

"I'm getting married," she said. "There was no problem with the house at all. I loved living there. It just didn't make sense to renew the lease."

"Under other circumstances, I'd congratulate you. I guess it's more appropriate to be grateful that you weren't there."

"Thank you, Mr. Carlson. Please let the investigators know I'm available to talk to them any time."

"You weren't having any problems with the neighbors then?"

"None at all. They were always very friendly people."

"Hmm. All right then."

"The fire department doesn't believe it was an accident, do they?"

"I have no idea what they think. All I can say is that I know the maintenance records on that home inside out. They're not going to find an electrical problem or faulty gas pipes."

Andrea's heart sank. "You should know that there have been some incidents related to me lately, Mr. Carlson. My car was vandalized two weeks ago. Last Tuesday night, someone attacked me as I was leaving work. There's a police officer investigating both. Perhaps he should be notified about this."

"Are you serious? Dear lord. It's hard to imagine all of that is coincidental now that the house has been destroyed."

"Yes," she said softly. "Hard to imagine."

"Who is the police detective investigating?"

"Officer Herbert," Andrea said. She gave him the phone number from Herbert's business card. "He'll probably be very interested in what the arson investigator learns."

"At this point, I think the police and the fire department would both be interested in comparing notes. Thank you for the information, Andrea. I'm truly grateful that you weren't home. I'll be in touch."

She disconnected the call and laid the phone on the counter. No one spoke, having surmised that something terrible happened from her half of the conversation.

Dillon hugged her tightly.

"The house," she nearly choked, and then cleared her throat.

"I heard," he murmured. "Andrea, this is really serious."

"He's going to make sure Officer Herbert knows what happened tonight." More tears dripped from her chin. "It really wasn't Sam this time."

"Let the police sort it out," Kelly slid away from the table and joined them. "You're safe here with Dilly, Andrea. That's all that matters right now."

"She's right," Scott said. "You're here. You're not hurt. Let the police figure out who did what and why."

"I already know," she whispered. "I don't understand it, but I already know the truth."

"Honey—"

Andrea peeled the hands away from her waist. "Dillon, you don't have to say anything. I know it's because she hates me. She obviously hates me very much. None of you should be anywhere near me right now. It puts all of you in danger."

"I'm not leaving you alone," Dillon said.

"Even if that's what's best for everyone? Dillon, let it be over. She won't stop hurting people until she knows she's won. I can't stand thinking that my kind neighbors suffered because they had the bad luck to live next door to me. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you, or the people that you love."

"I love you," desperation tinged his words. "You're not leaving me. Whoever did this isn't going to win."

Andrea twisted away from the hold meant to protect her. "I can't do this. I can't worry that my presence is hurting innocent people, Dillon." She slipped the ring off her finger and laid it on the counter.

"Andrea, you're overreacting," Kelly reached for her friend's wrist. "They'll catch her. Heather will go to prison for what she's done. Don't let her ruin the happiness you found."

"And if she comes after Dillon next, then what, Kelly? I can't take that chance." She grabbed the cell phone and walked out of the room.

Stunned, Dillon stared at the engagement ring on the counter.

"You're not gonna let her walk out of here, are you?"

"Kell, I... I don't want her to leave."

"Tell her that!"

"I thought I just did."

"Then say it again!"

Dillon's eyes drifted in the direction of the bedroom. "Yeah," he said. "I guess I should."

Chapter 22

Andrea was hastily packing a bag when Dillon joined her in the bedroom. Kelly and Scott were gone. The ring that belonged on Andrea's finger was secreted in his pocket once again.

His hands stilled her movement by doing nothing more than resting lightly on her shoulders.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," she said.

"I thought this was home."

"San Francisco."

"Did you call your folks?"

Andrea nodded. "And the airline. My flight leaves in two hours. I need to hurry."

"So that's it, huh? She escalates to a more serious felony, and you're back to running away again. Love doesn't matter. You don't think I can protect you from her. We aren't stronger together than we are alone. It's all just... over."

"She hurt innocent people, Dillon."

"Maybe. Probably hurt their property. She definitely hurt one innocent in all of this."

"I'm sorry."

"I wasn't talking about me, Andrea. She hurt you, and you're the most innocent of all. Once again, her behavior seems like it's a direct result of me handling things poorly."

"The proposal?"

Dillon's arms slid around her belly. "Yes. I love you. I only wanted everyone to know in no uncertain terms how much. I never dreamed she'd go completely nuts."

"Did you call Bobby?"

"I have more pressing matters on my mind right now. The woman I love, who agreed to marry me seems intent on walking away now."

"Dillon—"

"Don't leave me," he whispered into her hair. "How long do you think Heather can continue to evade Officer Herbert? Huh? Are you gonna wake up tomorrow morning and regret running away when you find out she's been arrested?"

"They need evidence. I don't. I know what I know, Dillon. She won't stop until I leave."

"Then let me come with you."

"So she can burn this place to the ground too? No. She needs to see that I'm gone, that you're here. She needs to know she won."

"She hasn't won anything. You're making us lose too, Andrea. I know you're upset and scared. Don't compound all of that by making a very rash mistake."

"Keeping you alive is a mistake? Making sure she doesn't hurt other innocent people who have nothing to do with any of this is rash? I don't think so. I'm going home."

Dillon turned her around until she faced him. "I think you need to talk to me. Or not talk to me."

"What?" Confusion etched her brow.

"Breathe with me, Andrea. Be connected. Don't shut me out. We can figure out a better way of handling all of this together." He dug the ring out of his pocket and slipped it back on her finger. "I can't accept anything less."

"My flight—"

"If you still want to go, there will be more flights."

"My parents—"

"Want you to have a happy life more than anything in the world, Andrea. They sent you to India to keep you safe from Sam. Don't you think they'd want you to be with the one person in the world who would do anything to protect you too?"

"They'll worry if I don't show up."

"Give me the phone," Dillon said, and reiterated it when she hesitated. "Let me explain what's happening to them, Andrea. I'm going to be their son-in-law. They need to understand that I love you, and I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

She pressed the device into his palm.

Dillon's relief almost overwhelmed him. He redialed the last number Andrea called.

"Andrea? Are you at the airport, sweetheart?"

Dillon cleared his throat. "This isn't Andrea, Mrs. Witt. My name is Dillon Holbrook. Andrea is with me. She's safe."

"Oh thank God!"

"I wanted to explain why Andrea isn't leaving Denver tonight," he said. "But before I do, I should thank you for giving her a safe place to go when she felt she needed it."

"I don't understand. Are you saying that Andrea isn't safe with you?" Alarm spiked in her voice.

"She is absolutely safe with me, which is why I don't want her to leave me. Mrs. Witt, I asked your daughter to marry me, and up until about half an hour ago, that was the plan."

Dillon sat on the bed and pulled Andrea down between the V of his thighs. He launched into an explanation of everything that happened in the past couple of weeks. The car. The assault. The arson. He explained everything that happened between each event.

"I love her more than I've ever loved anyone, and you need to understand that I will do everything in my power to protect her, even though some of my actions might've been inciting factors in what happened this week."

"She should come home, Mr. Holbrook."

"She is home. Here, with me. If she runs now, again, from a different bully than the one who has tormented her for years and kept her from having a relationship with her family, she'll be running forever. I know you don't want that. I know she deserves more than that kind of life. While I'd have loved nothing more than to meet her parents under different circumstances, this is how things are. I'd like the people who love her to be here, to support her here in the life she's built for herself, one that I know she doesn't really want to leave. Will you come?"

Beatrice Witt paused. Only a soft gasp was audible.

Andrea's head smashed against his chest. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Mrs. Witt?"

"You want us there?"

"Very much. Andrea needs you. She needs to stop running away. I think you all need to stand together in the same place and put the past behind you. Will you come?"

"Yes. Yes, of course we'll come. Right away."

Dillon gave her his phone number. "Call when your flight lands. We'll pick you up at the airport."

"Dillon, is she safe with you? I mean, really safe."

"Yes," he said. "She's in the safest place she could possibly ever be."

He disconnected the call and urged Andrea up from her perch between his legs. Dillon scooted back into the middle of the bed and assumed the lotus position. He patted his thighs. "Come here, Andrea."

"Dillon, we don't have time to—"

He patted his thighs again. "Come. Here."

She crawled into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Dillon pulled her close and started breathing slowly.

"You should be angry with me."

"Why?"

"Because I gave the ring back."

He smiled. "I refused to accept it. Remember?"

"Student surpasses the teacher again."

"Hardly," Dillon said softly. "I simply don't know how to let you go, so I won't do it." His fingers splayed out over her rib cage and squeezed. "Do you understand now?"

"No, because it looks like I didn't trust you again. Already."

Dillon's arms wound around her and pulled her close. "This wasn't about me. It's the rest of the world you don't trust. I realized something tonight, Andrea. When you took off the ring and told me you were leaving me, I was just..."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I wasn't. I should've been devastated, angry, something, but I wasn't. All I felt was this incredible sense of calm. I knew what I had to do."

"Stop me?"

"That too," he nuzzled her neck. "I needed to remind you that this person who runs away isn't who you really are. It's not who you've ever wanted to be."

Andrea rested her cheek against his chest and cried again. "You're such a good man, Dillon. So patient and wonderful to me—"

"Do you think this is a common reaction for me?" One hand smoothed over her hair. "Because it isn't Andrea. I just know that we're better together than we ever were alone. Am I crazy?"

"No," she whispered.

"I will not lose you because of a hateful woman who thinks terrorizing you is the way to make you go away. If I have to go out and find her myself, I'll do it."

"Please don't. You were right earlier. So was Kelly... and Scott. We have to let the police handle this, Dillon. Promise me you won't look for her, that you'll never go anywhere near her again."

"Are we still getting married?"

"Yes."

"And you're not going to leave Denver after your parents arrive?"

"Not unless you're with me."

"All right. I'll stay away from Heather."

Andrea lifted her head and peered up at him.

Dillon's hands gripped her face. Thumbs brushed away the tears. Their breathing fell into its comfortable rhythm.

"My beautiful cinnamon girl," Dillon said softly, "may I kiss you now?"

"You don't have to ask my permission anymore. I've already given you my heart."

"Not taking it back again?"

"No," she said softly. "I would've regretted that decision for the rest of my life. I am sorry, Dillon."

He nibbled lightly at her lips. "I'm not sorry it happened. I feel closer to you than ever before. That says a lot, Andrea."

"I'm afraid."

"I know," he murmured. "No need to be afraid and alone. I will always be here, Andrea. All you have to do is reach out, and I'll be here."

When their lips met again, Andrea took his breath away.

*~*~*~*~*

They moved to the sofa in the living room to be closer to the phone. Dillon held Andrea until she fell asleep in his arms. He eased her down and pillowed her head on his thigh. Her eyes were still red from crying, dark rings punctuating the sadness she experienced.

Dillon's fingers sifted through her hair. He wondered at his reaction to all of this. It wasn't disbelief as much as it was amazement. Two weeks with her had completely changed his life. Everything felt centered, right, balanced. As long as she was here, he believed life would continue to be this way.

The phone startled him out of his thoughts. Andrea stirred, but settled quickly when he silenced the disturbance.

"Hello?" It was way too soon for her parents to be at the airport.

"Mr. Holbrook, it's Stu Herbert again."

"I assume you heard what happened tonight."

"I did. How is Andrea?"

"Shaken badly. Are you looking for Heather?"

"We are. We've had officers canvassing the neighborhood looking for potential witnesses for a couple of hours now."

"And?"

"She was seen in the area before the fire started," Herbert said. "She wasn't alone."

"Rachel Burke?"

"Looks that way."

"Jesus," Dillon muttered.

"We'll find them. I just wanted to let both of you know that there is evidence of foul play. The witnesses make this a much stronger case against these girls."

"It's not a crime to be in the neighborhood."

"No, it isn't. The fact that they were seen with a gas can helps. The fact that we've got footprints in Andrea's back yard that can be matched to them helps even more."

"Andrea was concerned for her neighbors."

"No one was injured," Herbert said. "But thank God she wasn't home, Dillon. I don't know how anybody could've made it out of that house alive. Sarge said you felt the assault last Tuesday was attempted murder."

"He disagreed," Dillon said.

"Well, there's no question about the intent this time. When we find them— and we will— there are serious charges pending against both of them. They won't get another chance to hurt either one of you again."

"I appreciate that, Officer Herbert. What I'd like even more is a call immediately once they're in custody."

"Done."

"Thank you for all you've done. After I talked to your sergeant, I was pretty convinced that whoever attacked Andrea would get away with it."

"Not on my watch," he said. "Listen, I've got to get back to the search, but I wanted to let you know that it's looking pretty incriminating against one, if not both of these women for the vandalism and the assault last week, not to mention the attempt tonight. It's only a matter of time before they're both in custody."

"I know Andrea will rest much easier when they are," Dillon stroked through her hair again. "Please don't let them slip through the cracks, officer. I'm not sure how much more of this she can take."

"You have my word," Herbert said. "This will end soon."

Chapter 23

When the phone rang again, it was after midnight. Andrea was still sleeping— peacefully now. Dillon grabbed the phone before it disturbed her.

"Hello?"

"Dillon?"

"Yes."

"This is Harrison Witt, Andrea's father. We're at the airport in Denver."

"All right. I'll wake Andrea and we'll come pick you up right away."

"We're getting a rental car, son. If Andrea is sleeping, best let her rest. Beatrice said she sounded quite distraught earlier."

His fingers ghosted with a light touch over her arm. "Yeah, but she's doing a lot better now. We talked, meditated together, and of course the police are looking for the culprits responsible for all of this."

"Then they know who did it?"

"Fortunately, yes. I know we all were ready to rush to judgment that Sam Clement was behind this latest spate of harassment, but it isn't him this time. It won't ever be him again, sir. You have my word on that."

"Who would do such a terrible thing to Andrea? She's such a sweet and gentle soul. I've never known her to so much as raise her voice in anger."

"I know," Dillon said softly. "Unfortunately, the rest of the world isn't so kind. It looks like a couple of girls from the gym where Andrea teaches are trying to settle a score. Something about a class one of them taught until Andrea's came along and became more popular with the members." He drew his lower lip between his teeth. Should he confess the rest?

"Unbelievable," Harrison said.

"Sir, it also looks like it might've had to do with a bit of jealousy as well."

"Obviously. If they tried to kill my daughter because her yoga classes were more popular, I'd say that jealousy is the least of —"

"Not about the class," Dillon admitted. "But because Andrea and I fell in love."

Silence.

"I..."

"It isn't your fault, son. Whatever happened, these girls made a choice to break the law and to abandon every concept of what it means to be civil and humane. I'm just relieved that our little girl isn't going through this alone."

"Never again," Dillon said. "Sir, I love her very much."

"Beatrice mentioned that you want to marry our daughter."

"More than anything."

"Well, I hope we have the opportunity to get to know you better before that happens, but if she's as happy with you as we hope, we couldn't ask for more."

"It's late, and I'm sure you're exhausted, but I know she needs to see you," Dillon said. "Do you think you could come to our loft as soon as you get your rental car?"

"Absolutely. Give me the address. Also, if you can make a recommendation for a hotel nearby, we'd like to spend as much time with Andrea— with both of you— as possible while we're here."

"You'll stay with us," Dillon said. "I insist. We haven't got the biggest place in town, but there's plenty of room for you here. There's an intercom at the door. Buzz when you get here and I'll let you up."

"Thank you, Dillon."

Andrea stirred on his lap before Dillon ended the call. She rolled to her back and stroked his chest with one hand.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Are they here?"

Dillon nodded. "Renting a car and heading over here."

"We have space for guests?"

"Gee, in all this time, I never got around to giving you the grand tour."

"It's pretty much a wide open space, Dillon. Will we be bunking on a hide-a-bed while they're here?"

"Up," he tapped one shoulder. She was half seated when Dillon pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply.

"Mmm... what was that for?"

"Staying," he said. "Want to see the rest of the place?"

"It's my home too," Andrea's eyes fluttered away from his intense gaze. "Right?"

"Every fraction of an inch. C'mon."

She followed him across the large open space to another sliding door. Dillon kicked the bolt on the floor that held it shut and slid it open.

Beyond lay another large room, not as spacious as the main area of the loft. It was decorated in Dillon's analytical, minimalist style. Andrea grinned up at him and patted his belly with one hand.

"Good. More space to soften."

"Hey, it's not that bad."

"So this is where you work?"

Dillon gestured toward the desk. "Lesson plans to write, papers to grade, internet to surf when I'm bored. It's all here."

"And another cozy little bedroom," her eyes drifted to the spare space for guests. "Thank you for offering to let Mom and Daddy stay with us, Dillon."

"We have the space. Why on earth would I let them go to a hotel?"

She shrugged. "Not everybody wants their future in-laws underfoot."

"Sam?"

"Does that really surprise you?"

"They love you. That's enough for me," he said. "So, you wanna help me get fresh sheets on the bed? These are probably beyond dusty after six months without use."

Her fingers twined through his before he could move to the bed. "Dillon?"

"Yeah."

"Can we get married sooner rather than later?"

"I suppose that depends on the reason," he said. "Is this because you're afraid?"

"No."

"Feeling guilty because you were going to leave me tonight?"

She shook her head.

"Because you love me and you find it ridiculous to wait for some prescribed time period society finds normal?"

Andrea smiled. "Can I simply want to be married to you right away?"

"You may," Dillon chuckled. "But let's not make your parents panic with another jarring announcement, shall we? I may not have been overly thrilled at the prospect of waiting while they get to know me earlier tonight, but I think it's a good idea, Andrea. They've got to have concerns that you're jumping in without looking first. Especially considering everything that's happened since you met me."

"And my Sam mistake."

Dillon tugged her hand and jerked his head in the direction of the bed. "Weird as it is, I can't look at that marriage as a mistake. If you hadn't met him, married him, left him and moved all over the place, how would I have ever found you?"

"Some things are meant to be, Dillon."

They worked together getting the guest space ready for Andrea's parents. The intercom buzzed just as they were finishing.

Dillon read Andrea's body language. "Don't be nervous. They love you."

"I know," she whispered. "I just stayed away for so long."

Instead of simply opening the door at the intercom, Dillon responded, "I'll be right down." He kissed Andrea's forehead. "Wait here, all right? I'm gonna help your dad with the luggage."

He left the loft door open and trotted down the stairwell. Harrison and Beatrice waited at the door to the loft entrance. He swung it open. "Mr. and Mrs. Witt?"

A hand extended, along with a warm smile. "You must be Dillon. Please, call me Harrison," he said. "Is Andrea still sleeping?"

"She's awake now, a little nervous, I'm afraid."

"Whatever for?" Beatrice asked.

"Guilt, I think," Dillon said. "I think she regrets that she stayed away from you for so long. Please come in. Harrison, let me get those bags for you."

He saw the look of surprise that passed between the Witts, filed it as a question for Andrea later. Dillon grabbed the bags and led the way to the elevator this time. No need to make the weary couple climb four flights of stairs to the loft.

When the elevator doors slid open at the top, Andrea stood in the loft doorway with her fingers twisted together.

"Mom? Daddy?"

Harrison stepped off the elevator and made quick strides toward her. He swept Andrea into his arms and hugged her tightly. "My little girl," he wept. "Thank God you're safe."

Beatrice laid one hand on Dillon's arm. "She's always been his little girl. Did she tell you that?"

"No," Dillon said. "She speaks so highly of both of you."

"We've missed her very much, Mr. Holbrook."

"Dillon," he corrected. "Let me show you inside."

He rolled the luggage into the guest room with Beatrice close behind.

"Has she lived here long? Her style is everywhere— except in here," Mrs. Witt said.

"No, she just moved in, ma'am."

"Hmm."

"I do love your daughter," he said. "I hope you know that."

"I don't mean to offend you, Dillon. It's just that we don't know you, and Harrison and I both feel it would've been best for Andrea to simply come home last night, at least until all of this blows over or is definitively resolved."

"She is home," Dillon said. "She's an adult, you know. And she's faced a lot of terrible stuff without anyone who really cared for her, certainly no one who defended her. She has that now, here, with me. Can't you see that she needs to stand up for what she wants this time? She's too strong, too courageous to let another bully rip her happiness away from her again."

"Mom?"

Dillon turned quickly. Andrea and Harrison stood in the doorway to the loft's second room.

"Yes, darling?"

Dillon recognized the expression in her eyes. He stepped up quickly. "Andrea, your mom has every reason to worry. It's all right. I understand why she feels this way."

Her eyes turned on her father. "Daddy, did you really think I should keep running away?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. It's just that we had no idea where you were for years, and then suddenly, you were hurt. When you called tonight, we were terrified. I feel so much better now, seeing you, how beautiful you are in spite of all this nonsense with Sam and now these girls from work," his fingers brushed the fading bruise on her cheek. "I believe Dillon means every word he says, honey. More than that, I'm convinced that he's capable of more than good intentions."

He leaned close to his daughter and murmured something Dillon couldn't hear. She smiled shyly and blushed. Another question was tacked onto Dillon's later list.

"You should get some more rest," Harrison said. "Go hug your mother and tell her goodnight. Dillon was quite right. We're exhausted, not to mention older than the two of you are. We could use some rest ourselves. We'll discuss all of this more over breakfast. Deal?"

"Thank you, Daddy," she rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight."

Dillon noticed that she didn't greet, hug or say goodnight to her mother. He excused himself and closed the door behind him. Andrea disappeared around the paper wall into their bedroom without a word.

Curious.

He followed. "Andrea?"

"Yeah," she spoke muffled words from beneath the soft sweater she peeled over her head.

"Are things all right between you and your mom?"

She didn't respond right away.

"Honey, she's only worried about you."

"She didn't have to treat you that way, Dillon. You've done everything possible to make them feel welcome in my life—our life."

"Give her some time. It's like Harrison said. All of this has been a terrifying shock for them. Not hearing from you in years, and then when you call, it's with bad news. Heather and Rachel tried to kill you last night. Do you understand how horrifying that is to everyone?"

"Rachel was involved too?"

He nodded. "Officer Herbert called while you were sleeping. Everybody is looking for them. There were witnesses, Andrea. They won't get away with this, I promise."

She drifted into his arms. "Did you tell Daddy?"

"Yes, of course. I told both of them."

"Yet Mom still thinks—"

"She sees her daughter, bruised and battered physically and emotionally. Do you think maybe she's feeling a little regret that they didn't stand up to Sam all those years ago, that you've had to deal with all of this alone?"

"That was my choice," Andrea said. "I have this tendency to disappear to protect those I love the most."

"Hmm," Dillon smoothed one hand up her back. "Don't do that anymore."

"I'm trying."

"Put on your robe and go tell your mother goodnight and that you love her. Don't hold her wariness where I'm concerned against her. If Grams were still alive and around here, I doubt she's feel a whole lot differently about you."

"Really?"

"Andrea, that's what family does. Do you think Kelly is thrilled that first it was your crazy ex-husband who might be after you? Now it's a couple of psychos from the gym? Of course she isn't happy about it. But she's happy about us. Give your mom the same chance to reach that conclusion on her own. If she sees me as the obstacle between the two of you, this won't help."

"Will you feel the same way if she insists that I go back to California with them come dawn?"

"Yes," he said. "Besides, I doubt Harrison will let her interfere. I think he understands this completely."

Andrea nodded. "I'll talk to her. Don't go to sleep without me."

As if he could.

Chapter 24

Breakfast evolved into brunch, and Kelly and Scott arrived with baby Chelsea in tow. Sleep helped settle some of the conflicting emotions brewing from the night before, but Dillon's underlying worry remained unchanged.

There was still no call from Officer Herbert. Rachel and Heather were still out there somewhere, plotting God only knew what next.

Kelly pulled Dillon aside.

"I don't know how you pulled this off, Dillon, but I am so grateful that you stayed calm and didn't let Andrea do something stupid last night."

"Kell, she's terrified. Can you really blame her for losing her head? They tried to kill her."

"And you saved her life by doing nothing more than loving her. That ought to trump fear any day."

"Logic still resides in that head of yours," he grinned. "Bringing Chelsea was a good idea. It looks like Andrea and her mom are bonding again over your daughter."

"Thanks to you, Scott insisted that we try this less baggage proposition this morning."

"And nary a planet collided," Dillon chucked her chin playfully. "I'm glad you're here."

"Where else would I be? You're my brother. Crazy lands on your doorstep, and I'm there. United front and all that. You'd do the same for me.

"Any word from the police?"

Dillon shook his head. "Kell, let's not underscore that with Andrea this morning. I'd like her to stay calm."

"Scott called Bobby last night. He already knew what was going on. Apparently, this police officer had contacted him and asked for information about these girls. He agreed to tell the police if Heather shows up for work Monday afternoon. None of us believes that will really happen."

"I'm sure you're right." His attention drifted back to Andrea playing with baby Chelsea.

"You really wouldn't mind having kids with her, would you?"

"Huh?"

"Andrea. Babies. Your babies, specifically."

"What about them?"

"Hopeless," Kelly rolled her eyes. "How are things going with the parents? Her dad seems like he's taken an instant shine to you. What about the mother?"

"Eh, she's got doubts."

"You're awfully calm about it."

"Andrea is closer to her father. If the roles were reversed, I'd probably be freaked out. As it is, I think her mother needs more time."

"How much more?"

"I wish I knew," Dillon said. "Andrea has decided she doesn't want to wait very long to get married."

"And you're fine with that, I'm sure," Kelly grinned.

"Yes and no. I don't want her feeling like she moved too fast, or that fear pushed her into doing something that she needed to take time to consider first."

"Which explains the no part of the equation. Yes is because you don't have doubts at all?"

Dillon nodded. "I love her, Kell. It's not going away. In fact, it seems like every day I realize I need her a little bit more."

"So you love her enough to slap the skids on more rash behavior until she knows for sure too."

"Something like that."

"Well, I'm sure as soon as the pressure is off after this cop arrests your crazy stalkers, you'll get your answer. How long can two dumb blondes possibly hide?"

"Hey," he elbowed her shoulder none too gently. "We're both of the same hair color, sweetheart."

"We're men of logic," Kelly grinned. "Whether you want to believe it or not, I am still your twin and your mental equal."

"And a sister, not a brother, ergo you are not a man of logic."

"Dilly, it's going to work out. I can't explain how I know it. I just do."

"Before she has to go back to work tomorrow afternoon? Before I have to leave her to go back to school in the morning? I don't think I can do it, Kell, not with these nuts still out there somewhere."

"Relax. Her parents are here now. You can be at the gym while she's working tomorrow night. I have a feeling that's where you'll want to be even if Heather and Rachel are arrested by then."

"What if her mom talks her into leaving while I'm at work?"

"It won't happen. Look at her, Dilly. She's happy here. Sure she had a moment last night, but that clearly passed. Whatever you said or did, she knows this is where she wants to be."

Harrison approached the bar and started picking through the fruit again. "She's a natural with that baby, isn't she son?"

Dillon nodded.

"Dare I hope that there are grandchildren in my future?"

Kelly laughed softly. "I think he'd be delighted if it happened now," she said.

"Well, perhaps after the wedding. Andrea tells her mother that she doesn't want to wait very long," he said.

"Oh?"

"Hasn't she told you?"

"Yeah," Dillon said. "I just wasn't sure she was ready to broach the subject with Beatrice yet."

"Her mother needs to understand that Andrea knows how she feels about you, Dillon. It was clear to me last night when you called. Bea wasn't thrilled with your alternative solution, but I knew it was the right thing for Andrea to do. She needs to hold onto the life she wants. It's become too easy for her to walk away from those she loves— including her mother and me. Perhaps I'm being a little selfish too. If she's here, at least we know she's safe and happy. We can have our daughter back again."

"By all means, be selfish."

Harrison smiled. "I thought you might feel that way, Dillon."

"Did she mention how soon she wants her wedding day?" Kelly asked. "What?" when Dillon speared her with an exasperated expression. "Some of us would like a little advance notice, Dilly."

"I'd like this other matter resolved before we get married," Dillon said. "For obvious reasons."

"You don't think that's why she wants to marry you, son. Andrea isn't like that. She's—"

"Impulsive," Kelly said. "She was ready to break my brother's heart last night."

"Kell, she was trying to protect all of us, not hurt me. And no, I don't think she wants to marry me because she's afraid. What I meant was that I don't want some black cloud hanging over what should be the happiest day of our lives."

"Has there been any word on the manhunt?" Harrison asked.

"Not yet. I'm tempted to call Officer Herbert for an update, but he promised he'd call with any news. I don't want to get in the way of him doing his job."

"If these girls have any sense of self preservation, they're probably long gone," Harrison said. "That black cloud could be hanging over somewhere else by now."

"They need to be caught and punished for what they've done," Kelly snorted softly. "Sorry, but wishing they've moved on to some unwitting soul isn't my idea of a solution."

"Or mine," Harrison said. "I simply want Andrea to have the peace and happiness she deserves."

"They're not gone," Dillon said. "And I doubt they'll let this drop until someone stops them."

"I hope you don't mind if Bea and I extend our visit for a few more days," Harrison said. "I know I won't rest until I know this is over once and for all. If these women weren't smart enough to leave town, I'm not willing to leave Andrea until I know they're caught."

"We were just talking about that," Dillon said. "I have to get back to work tomorrow. I won't be able to concentrate if I know that Andrea is here alone."

"We'll be here, son. Don't worry about that."

"Is your wife going to try to lure Andrea back to San Francisco?" Kelly didn't hesitate to ask the question that plagued her brother.

"Even if she tried, I wouldn't allow it. But to answer your question, no, I don't think she'll do that. She feels a bit better about Dillon this morning than she did last night. Hard to deny how much he loves her."

Andrea's gaze met Dillon's. She smiled and beckoned with one hand.

"Excuse me," he said.

Kelly chuckled as her brother strode over to Andrea and the baby that held such rapt attention for Andrea and her mother.

"Leave it to my little pumpkin to pave the way for a true family reunion," she said.

*~*~*~*~*

Andrea scooped Chelsea off the couch and nestled her in the crook of her arm. "She's so adorable, Dillon."

He grinned. "I take it this means you want one."

"Someday."

He kissed the side of her head. "Whenever you're ready, say the word."

Beatrice looked at him with something other than wary disdain. "Really? You aren't opposed to having children, Dillon?"

"Not with Andrea," he said. "I've never been particularly eager to start a family, but she changed everything for me."

"Kelly tells me you're a teacher. High school, isn't it?"

"Math and science," he nodded.

"Have you ever considered teaching at the university level, Dillon?"

"Oh, I toyed with the idea a long time ago, but honestly, when I was in graduate school, I saw so many kids coming in as college freshmen who didn't understand the basics well enough, that I felt my place was with them, helping them prepare for college and get a leg up on what the demands would be once they do graduate from high school."

"He's been teaching a sort of remedial algebra course this summer, Mom. He's very good with teenagers."

"If you ever change your mind, I'm well connected with several universities in California. I'd love to put in a good word, especially if it means that my girl is closer to us, lets us be closer to the grandchildren I believe we'll have someday."

"Mom..."

"It's all right, Andrea," Dillon grinned. "Who knows? Maybe someday we'll want to get away from the snow and the cold. It's always good to have options. I do miss the ocean too."

"You're from California?"

"New York originally," Dillon said. "After college, I moved to Myrtle Beach and taught there until I moved out here last Christmas. Kell talked me into living closer. Best move I ever made in my life."

Beatrice looked away for a moment. "You know, Dillon, I really owe you an apology for some of the things I said last night. I could make excuses for my behavior, but that sort of negates the purpose of an apology. It's very clear to me that you are nothing like Sam was. You've been gracious and kind, you've opened your home to strangers. You didn't act offended or angry by what I said last night. I find that most remarkable of all. That you love my daughter is obvious. While I think I would prefer that the two of you wait and get to know each other a little better before the wedding, I can certainly see why neither one of you wants to do that."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "You have a very good effect on one another. Andrea tells me that you've left the date entirely in her hands."

"She knows what's right for her," Dillon said.

"And she is sitting right here," Andrea broke into the conversation.

He chuckled. "You know what's right for you. As long as we're together, that's all I need, Andrea. The date is merely a legal formality as far as I'm concerned."

She stretched up for a kiss. "And that's exactly why I don't want to wait to make it formal, Dillon. We're both sure. The commitment is already here. There's nothing stopping us from being married now rather than later."

"Not even a big church wedding?"

Andrea's gaze skittered away.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked.

"Andrea already had a big church wedding, at someone else's insistence. I don't think that was ever what she wanted."

Dillon's arm wrapped around her shoulder. "Well, since I'm not much of a church guy, I guess this is another detail that I put into your very capable hands. Give me a date and an address, sweetheart. I'll be the happiest groom on the planet."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Like I said, this is just a formality to my way of seeing things. When we do it, I want it to be everything you want. As long as you're there, I'll have everything I need."

Her eyes sparkled like amethysts in firelight. Andrea bit her lower lip lightly. "Can we get the license right away?"

Dillon's eyes narrowed. "Sure. Tomorrow if you like."

"And you'll show up, no matter when or where I ask you to be?"

"Am I getting a surprise wedding?"

"Would that bother you?"

Dillon grinned. "Not at all. But if you're thinking of getting married where I proposed, I can promise you that you'll have a fight on your hands. Let's not forget how Kelly reacted to my choice of location."

"Where did you propose?" Bea asked.

Andrea laughed and told the story.

And suddenly, Bea felt that Kelly was a very wise woman.

Chapter 25

Dillon shuffled into class the next morning, weary from poor sleep. Andrea had no idea, and he'd just as soon keep it that way even if the result of lying perfectly still and resisting the urge to toss and turn meant a stiff neck, aching shoulders and a tension headache the next morning.

Yeah, Heather and Rachel were still at large.

"Yo, Mr. H."

His eyes snapped into focus. "What is it, Marcus?"

"I was just tellin' my boys that this math stuff ain't so bad, and they said ain't no way I could make it in one of your other classes this fall."

"Well, you'd have to take some additional classes before you'd be eligible for an AP course, but you've got plenty of time before your senior year."

"But Mr. H., ain't none of these other teachers gets us the way you do," Terri piped up. "Not to say they're bad, but they ain't you."

His eyebrows twitched. "How about your English teachers? Geez, you guys sure like the word ain't this morning."

"Why can't you teach some of the classes for us regular kids during the year?" Marcus asked. "We'd all sign up if we knew we got you showin' us how this stuff works."

Dillon's heart swelled with affection for his students, their desire to learn from him because of the trust he earned. He ducked his head. "I've got a pretty full teaching schedule, guys."

"Man, we can't catch no break."

"Any break, and you make your own breaks in life, guys. If you want to learn more math, do it. You know where to find me, even if I'm not the one teaching your classes. I'm here to help you in any way that I can."

"Won't be the same," Marcus muttered.

Dillon grinned. "Well, I've got a couple of open periods first semester for sure. Maybe I can talk to Dr. Chambers and see if we can work something out."

"Seriously? I mean you'd do that? For us?" Shy Julie spoke for the first time in four weeks.

"Sure," Dillon said. "We want all of you to be successful, no matter what you decide to do with your lives. I really mean that. So you struggled to understand algebra. It's not so hard now that you understand the basics, is it?"

"No," rippled through the room.

"So what makes you think you can't learn the more advanced stuff? If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything you want. I won't always be the guy teaching you around here," he said. "But that doesn't mean that other teachers don't care just as much or want you to succeed too."

"You the first teacher that ever asked us why we didn't get this shit," Marcus said, before amending quickly. "Uh stuff."

"Sometimes you have to speak up first," Dillon said. "I'd love to take the credit for what we've accomplished this summer, guys, but I can't. I told you it was my teacher that opened my eyes and made me see this class in a different way."

"He must be one smart dude."

"She," Marcus said. "It was the yoga chick, right?"

"The yoga chick is going to be my wife someday," he grinned. "But yes, Andrea helped me see that I needed to look at every situation differently. Like me, you all were here because somebody made you come, just like I had to go to the yoga class."

"Mr. H., you're seriously getting married?"

"Yeah, Marcus, I am seriously getting married."

"Yo, do we like, get invited?"

Dillon chuckled again. "I don't know about that, but if I could invite my students, you guys would definitely be there. My point is that we all have choices. We can keep doing things the same way and failing, or we can try to look at the world differently and maybe find a way to make things better."

Before he could continue, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Dillon tore it out and stared at the screen. "Uh, I've got to take this guys. Go ahead and trade papers for Friday's assignment and we'll talk about it just as soon as I get back."

Dillon slipped into the hall. "Officer Herbert?"

"Hey, Dillon. Sorry to disturb you at work. I thought I should share this news with you before we talk to Andrea."

"Tell me you found them."

"Rachel," he said. "We have Rachel Burke in custody."

"Where did you find her? Does she know where Heather is? Did she confess?"

"Whoa, slow down," Herbert said. "She's in custody — in Chicago. We'll have to extradite her, but we're sending a couple of detectives who have taken the lead on this case to talk to her out there."

"Then you don't know anything yet."

"We know that Rachel was smart enough to leave town after what they did at Andrea's house Saturday night. Our detectives should be on the ground at O'Hare within the hour. In the meantime, it's one less thing you have to worry about. We're still looking for Heather Martin, and I have every confidence that we'll find her. It doesn't look like she left town, at least not on any form of public transportation."

"Doesn't mean she didn't drive away," Dillon growled.

"We've got every law enforcement agency in the country looking for her vehicle, Dillon. It's just a matter of time. What we think is that someone locally could be assisting her."

"Hiding her. That's what you mean, isn't it?"

"Yes. In part, that's why I called. We've talked to Bobby West again. For an employer, he knows remarkably little about this particular employee."

"You want to know who might be helping her."

"I hoped you might be aware of other friends who might sympathize with her right now."

Two people popped to mind immediately. "I don't know their last names," Dillon said, "but they're members at West's Gym. Bobby should be able to give you their contact information. Steve and Warren. They were part of the group who harassed Andrea at the gym Thursday night."

"Were they present Friday night when you dispelled that particular rumor?"

"I didn't see them there," Dillon said. "But I'm sure they heard about what happened." His thoughts snapped immediately to what Andrea would face when she returned to work that afternoon. "I appreciate the call, officer. I need to get back to my students. Please call me the second you learn anything about where Heather is or if Rachel helps find her."

"All right. Would you rather be there when we share what we've learned with Andrea or do you want me to call her?"

"I'd rather tell her myself and hope that you've got good news for me before I go home this morning. If you've got to be the one to tell her, I understand, but I'd prefer to be there when you talk to her."

"We can do that," Herbert said. "What time does your class end this morning?"

"Eleven. Can you meet me at my loft at say eleven thirty?"

"I'll be there," he said.

Dillon disconnected the call and absently rubbed at the growing knot bunched at the base of his neck. It had to end soon. It just had to.

*~*~*~*~*

Bea pressed a small container into Andrea's hand. "It's arnica cream. That bruise will be gone in no time."

"Mom—"

"You are not getting married looking like an overripe banana. Go put some of it on right now, young lady."

She grinned and twisted the lid off the jar and smoothed some of it into her left cheek. "Happy now?"

"Getting there. I am sorry about what I said to Dillon the other day."

"I know, Mom. Given my history, it's no wonder you doubted my ability to find a good guy for a change."

"It wasn't that as much as it was the size of him. Goodness, but he's rather... built."

"He wasn't always that way," Andrea said softly. "It's armor, you know? His defense against people who would try to hurt him."

"I take it his history with the opposite sex mirrors your own."

"Mom, he's a math genius. Have you ever encountered one of them who looks like Dillon in the past?"

"No, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. He's not using steroids or anything, is he?"

"Of course not."

"And you know this because he simply promised you he wasn't?"

Andrea blushed. "I think I'd know, Mom. He's a perfectly healthy, very well developed male without any signs of steroid use."

"Hmm, I guess I won't pry into the specifics of what that means," Bea grinned. "Let's talk wedding plans. What have you got in mind?"

"We have a beautiful botanic garden in the city."

"Which is probably booked for the next three years solid. It's a lovely idea though. What's your plan B?"

"That's my only plan," Andrea said. "I've already called them. Provided we're not looking at a Friday, Saturday or Sunday event, and the crowd won't be large and we don't have a reception on the grounds, we can have the wedding there any time."

"Sounds lovely. I suppose you have a specific area in mind?"

"There's a small pool filled with lotus flowers," Andrea said. "Very simple, very serene."

"And the officiant?"

"I've already spoken to someone at the Hindu Center. We can hire one of the priests to perform the vivah. It costs more to do it outside the temple, but Dillon isn't Hindu."

"Neither are you, Andrea."

"Mom... please don't start."

"All right. You're Hindu. Don't worry about whatever this costs. Your father will whip out the plastic and take care of it. This is the least we can do for our daughter's happiness. Yes?"

"Thank you."

"And are we having even a little reception somewhere? A cake and some of that tea you love so much, perhaps."

"I don't plan on having a huge wedding. Just us, you and Daddy... Kelly and Scott."

"Then we can fill the loft with bowls of lotus flowers and have a small dinner party here after the ceremony. I'm sure that Scott and Kelly would be more than happy to deliver us to the airport later so we can go home and the two of you can have a little bit of a honeymoon. I told Harrison this morning that we should probably check into a hotel for the remainder of our visit. I think Dillon would like to have some time alone with you, but he's far too gracious to ask."

"Mom, he doesn't feel that way. In fact, I know he's relieved that you're here. He barely slept at all last night. He's worried that they haven't caught Heather and Rachel yet, though he hasn't said so."

"Then we'll stay," Bea grabbed the jar of arnica and twisted off the cap. She smoothed some more onto Andrea's cheek. "I don't want him worrying about you while he fulfills his work obligations. However, if these women are still at large after the wedding, I insist that your father and I spend at least one night in a hotel. You should have that special night alone together, Andrea."

She nodded and lapsed into silence.

"And your wedding dress?"

"I don't know. Something simple. Lavender maybe. Dillon says it brings out the color of my eyes."

"Does he now?" Bea smiled. "He's a very smart man indeed."

"I'd like to do this Wednesday or Thursday, Mom. Do you think we'll have enough time?"

"Bah, who worries about time when you have money? Now about this wedding dress. I think I have just the thing. This is going to be at least in part a Hindu ceremony, yes?"

"I suppose. I won't ask Dillon to wear—"

"We're not worrying about him. He's going to show up exactly when and where you tell him to, and I would imagine he's capable of donning a suit at least."

"Yeah, he will."

"I think we should see about finding a saree for you to wear. Something beautiful but simple, and of course, lavender or something in that family—"

"Mom, we don't have time for something like that."

Bea's eyebrow arched high. "You let me worry about that. Pick your date. Wednesday or Thursday. Which is it?"

"I'd like to do it tonight, but we don't have time to make it happen quite that fast."

"If you don't choose the date, I will."

"Fine," Andrea smiled softly. "Wednesday."

"Because heaven forbid we give your poor mother an extra day to pull all of this together. Don't you worry about a thing, darling. I'll get your dress and make the arrangements for dinner afterward. I'll leave the invitations and the arrangements with this priest to you."

"Mom, you think I'm doing the right thing, don't you?"

"Do you love him?"

"With all my heart."

"And you trust that the two of you can be good to each other no matter what happens in the future?"

"Absolutely."

"You know him well enough to believe that he'll be loving and faithful?"

"Without a doubt."

"Can you think of one reason that waiting is the wise choice?"

"Only one," Andrea whispered.

"And does this single thing have anything to do with how you and Dillon feel about each other?"

"No."

"Let the police deal with these fiends, Andrea. You need to do exactly what Dillon said. We all do. It's time to put the past behind us— even the recent past— where it belongs. It took less than a day for Dillon to erase my misgivings about all of this. I believe you want to be his wife for the right reasons, and he's said it more than once. He already thinks of himself as your husband. Have your wedding. Live your lives and be happy. I think you both deserve that much."

Chapter 26

"She what?"

"Dillon, take a deep breath. She's not alone. Bea is with her. They only planned to be gone for a couple of hours. Andrea said—"

Dillon grabbed the phone from the kitchen and dialed her cell phone quickly.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"With Mom shopping."

"Andrea, it's not safe for you to be out there alone. What if—" he clamped his mouth shut and bit back the fear that rose from the knowledge that Heather was still out there somewhere. "Tell me where you are, and I'll come shopping with you."

"We're almost finished. We'll be on the way home before you could get here anyway. I'm sorry, Dillon. It wasn't my intention to upset you."

"How long? What are we talking about here? Fifteen minutes?"

"About half an hour. I promise, everything is fine. We haven't had so much as a glimpse of anyone associated with work."

"Be careful. Come straight home. Officer Herbert is here."

The pause in the conversation stretched.

"Andrea, did you hear me?"

"Have they found them?"

"Rachel is in custody in Chicago. That's all I really know, but Officer Herbert came over here to fill us in on the details."

"I'll hurry Mother along," she said. "We'll be there in less than a half hour."

Dillon paced the floor waiting.

"If you'd rather hear what I have to say before she comes home, we can talk about this now, Dillon. It might make you feel better to know what's happening."

"Have you arrested Heather McCoy yet?"

"No, but—"

"Then I don't feel better."

"Son, sit down," Harrison said. "Listen to what the man has to say. I know I'd feel better knowing some details."

Dillon sighed and slouched onto the sofa. He rubbed his face with one hand. "All right. Tell me what you learned after we talked this morning."

"Our detectives talked to Miss Burke shortly after I spoke to you. She caved right away. According to her story, she had no idea what Heather planned to do until it was too late. She took off and left her in Andrea's old neighborhood the second she realized what McCoy was doing."

"And they believed her?"

"Not necessarily. The footprints at the scene don't exactly support her story. It was clear that two persons with very small feet spent quite a bit of time in the back of Andrea's house. They arrived together and left together. Detective Bronte is a pit bull. If she's lying, he'll catch her and wring the truth out of her one way or another.

"The extradition request has already been filed. They don't think Rachel realizes that she has the right to contest it. Apparently she fell for the ruse that requesting an attorney simply makes her look guilty. The half-truths aside, she's cooperating so far."

"But she won't tell them where Heather is," Dillon fumed.

"Not yet. Be patient. We're getting closer."

"What about Steve and Warren?" Dillon asked.

"Mr. West supplied their full names and addresses. Neither one of them is home this morning, but we're tracking down employment records. We'll have conversations with both of them before the day is over. We're doing everything possible to find Ms. McCoy."

"Why don't you go search their homes? For all you know, she could be hiding there," Dillon said.

"We don't have probable cause at this point. There's a process to all of this, Dillon. We have to do things legally if you want the charges against these girls to hold up in court."

"Meanwhile, my wife is still in danger."

Herbert's eyes widened.

"They're not married just yet, but Dillon sees that as a technicality," Harrison explained. "I believe his stress is understandable, considering what he and my daughter have been through in the past few days."

"How hard can it be to find this woman? We're not talking about some criminal mastermind. She's a gym bunny. What do I have to do? Go out there and find her myself?"

The loft door slid open.

Dillon shot off the sofa and bounded across the room. He crushed Andrea against his chest. "Do not go out without me until they catch both of them. Promise me!"

"I'm fine, Dillon, but if it makes you feel better, of course I promise."

From Dillon's lap, Andrea heard the details Officer Herbert came to share with them. She listened calmly.

"So Rachel Burke blamed Heather for everything?"

"We don't believe her, Ms. Witt. The evidence points to her being a far more complicit accomplice in the arson Saturday night than she'd like us to believe. I told Dillon that I'm confident that the detectives will persuade her to be honest about what really happened. I think that she could be helpful in locating Ms. McCoy."

"Have you talked to her other friends from the gym?"

"We're working on it," Herbert said. "In the meantime, I have to agree with Dillon and urge caution. I'm sure she knows we're looking for her. There's a risk that it will make her more desperate."

"Why isn't my daughter in protective custody?" Harrison asked.

"It's an option. Frankly, I didn't think either one of them would agree to it."

"It might not be such a bad idea," Dillon said. "I thought I'd feel better about leaving her today, since her parents are here, and then I come home and find she's out shopping for God's sake."

"For our wedding," Andrea said softly.

"I'd like to keep you alive and well so we can have one, Andrea. Whatever you were doing, couldn't it have waited until I got home?"

"Nothing happened, Dillon. It's broad daylight. She's never done anything unless she can lurk around in the dark."

"And I'd rather not test that theory. Besides, it's June, Andrea. They burned your house to the ground long before sunset Saturday night."

"Please don't argue," Beatrice said softly. "It's my fault. This was my idea, Dillon. I thought it would do her some good to get out of the house for awhile, do something normal and happy instead of sitting around waiting all day."

"Andrea, we can put you in a safe house," Herbert said. "You won't be able to leave. We won't be able to disclose the location to anyone."

"I have a job," she said. "Dillon has a job."

"Honey, you're the one Heather's after, not me," Dillon said softly. "The safe house would be for you."

"And... and you're willing to send me away like that? Why did you stop me from going home to my parents if you—"

"I can't be with you every minute of the day," he interrupted. "At least if you're in police protection, I'll know you're safe. I wouldn't know that if you were back in San Francisco— no offense, Harrison and Beatrice, but Sam is still out there too."

"I understand, Dillon," Harrison said.

"Well I don't understand it," Andrea's eyes welled with tears. "And I'm not going to some safe house to hide. I'm staying here with you, Dillon. Either you want me to fight for the life I want, or you don't. Either you're fighting for it with me, or your not."

"Of course I'm with you."

"Here?"

Reluctantly, he nodded. "But you've got to be more careful."

"I'm sorry, Dillon."

Herbert rose and Harrison showed him to the door while Andrea and Dillon sat quietly in her remorse and his relief.

"Will you at least tell me what was so important that you had to go out shopping without me?" he asked.

"Your wedding ring," she said softly.

"Well, now I feel like a complete ass."

"Don't," Andrea murmured. "You're right, Dillon. I should've thought about how it would make you feel. I didn't think we'd be gone so long."

"Can I see it?"

"At the wedding," she said.

"Ah. Well, that's not fair. How long do I have to wait for the wedding?"

Andrea shrugged. "I guess we should wait until they find Heather."

Dillon's shoulders wilted. "And what if they never find her? What if she was actually smarter than Rachel and got away without being caught?"

"You can't have it both ways, Dillon. Either we get back to living our life together or we hole up here and wait indefinitely for the police to find someone they may never catch."

His lips skimmed across the side of her throat. "I know. I know. It scared me. I'm trying, Andrea. This is hard for me."

"Losing sleep isn't doing you any good at all," she murmured.

"You... you knew?"

"Yes, of course I knew. Can you tell when I'm upset and not resting?"

"I'll try harder," he murmured. "Forgive me?"

"This isn't your fault. We're both feeling some pretty extreme emotions right now, Dillon. But we're in this together, aren't we?"

"Absolutely."

"So when we're having a hard time, don't you think we should talk and share those feelings instead of bottling them up?"

"Of course. I just don't want to make this harder for you."

"The only thing that makes this worse is the idea that we're not talking to each other about everything, Dillon. That's all. Everything else is just... noise."

"I need you."

"You need sleep," one hand caressed Dillon's cheek gently. "You can rest all afternoon. Daddy and Mom can take me to work later."

"No," he shook his head adamantly. "You're not going back there without me."

"All right, but will you try to rest a little bit before then?"

"If you come with me," he said.

Bea cleared her throat. "I hate to be the wet blanket on these plans, but we need to get one more thing accomplished today, Andrea."

Dillon eyed his future mother in law warily. "And what might that be?"

"Don't worry, Dillon. You need to be present for this as well."

Andrea smiled. "The marriage license. Feel up to a little bureaucracy before your nap?"

His arms tightened. "How long is this license good for after we get it?"

"A month, at least that's what we read on the Internet this morning."

"So... we're getting married sometime in the next month?"

Andrea nodded. "Unless you want to wait—"

"No! Let's go get the license right now."

*~*~*~*~*

Dillon was relieved that there was no long line, no wait while they filled out the application for their marriage license. His fingers crept into Andrea's lap and gripped her hand. "We're really doing this."

"No second thoughts?"

"None," he grinned. "My only thoughts are the dying of curiosity type. When this wedding will happen, mostly."

"You said you'd be content if I just gave you an address and told you when to show up. Remember?" A secretive smile played over her lips.

"I remember, but I didn't think you'd take that literally. C'mon, Andrea, it's my wedding too. At least tell me when."

"Nope. It's a surprise."

"Is it today? Is that why you were in a hurry to get my ring?"

"I have to work tonight. It's not today."

"Is it—"

The clerk reappeared with their marriage license and slid it across her desk. "Here you go," she said. "As I explained, the license is good for 30 days, after which you'll have to pay another fee and go through the process again, should something happen to delay the happy event."

"Thank you," Andrea said. She tucked the paperwork into her bag and rose.

"Congratulations," the clerk said.

Dillon smiled madly and wrapped one arm around Andrea's waist. They walked out of the licensing office where most waited to renew tags for their vehicles and smiled. "Whenever it is, I just want you to know that I'm the happiest man in the world right now."

Andrea stepped off the curb and started walking toward his truck.

"What, no kiss?"

"You can kiss me until you fall asleep when we get home," she said. "You need a nap, Dillon."

He trotted to catch up to her and snagged one arm. Reeling her back to him, Dillon shook his head. "Oh no you don't. I get a kiss right now." His head tilted.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. It registered at the same moment his ears recognized the sound of rubber against the pavement. Dillon shoved Andrea away from him as hard as he could.

A second later, the front bumper of a car clipped his leg.

He hit the ground hard. Andrea's horrified scream was the last thing he heard.

Chapter 27

A lot of noises filtered through the throbbing pain in the back of Dillon's head. Sirens. Yelling. Some sort of low rumbling sound that could've been voices, but it was too strong for that.

He groaned and reached for the source of his agony.

An instant later, he remembered what happened.

"Andrea!"

"Shh, I'm right here, baby. I'm right here."

"Don't move, Mr. Holbrook. We've got a c-collar on you."

"Dammit, let me up. I'm fine."

"Sir, you've got a head injury."

It played on his eyelids in slow motion again. She barely nicked his leg with the car, but it was enough to knock him off balance. He hit the pavement hard. The crack of bone against concrete echoed through his memory.

"I hit my head when I fell. I'm fine."

"You've got a nasty gash on your leg, sir. We're gonna have to have a doctor take a look at it. We're not far from the hospital. Just give us a minute and—"

"Andrea can drive me to the hospital."

"Dillon, don't be ridiculous. Let them help you."

"I am not leaving you alone, not when I know that crazy bitch is watching us. Where is Officer Herbert?"

"Here and gone already," Andrea said. "I gave him a description of the car."

"Don't suppose you bothered with the license plate number."

She pressed her lips to his cheek. "I was a little distracted by the fact that you were unconscious, Dillon."

"Jesus," he muttered. "We're lucky she didn't stop and come after you after she incapacitated me."

"You know the identity of the person who did this?" the paramedic asked.

Dillon looked at Andrea. "Did you get a good look at her?"

She nodded. "It was Heather."

"That cop said this wasn't your typical hit and run, Fritz. What, did you think he was lying?" the other paramedic said. "Let's get this guy over to the ED. I don't want him crashing out here."

"Andrea, don't follow me over there. Ride in the ambulance."

"Don't be silly. We'll need the truck to get home when you're ready to leave the hospital."

He gripped her hand hard. "Call your dad. He and Bea can come over and pick it up and meet us at the hospital. Please. I don't want you alone for a second, not now. Not since we know she's still out here somewhere following us."

Andrea nodded. "All right."

"Ex-wife?" one of the paramedics asked Dillon.

"Not even an ex-girlfriend. Just some crazy delusional woman who thinks I belong with her and not my fiancée."

"So she tried to kill you?"

Dillon's eyes fluttered shut again.

"Mr. Holbrook, can you hear me?"

"I'm fine," he sighed. "It's just that I doubt Heather meant to hit me at all. It's Andrea she's targeted."

"Dillon, she didn't try to miss you."

"Great," he muttered. "Now she's gunning for both of us. She's too cowardly to face me outside a half ton vehicle."

Andrea crawled into the back of the ambulance behind the gurney and perched on the bench beside Dillon. "At least we know she's still in town, Dillon. Officer Herbert looked more determined than ever."

"It makes my skin crawl, thinking that she's been watching you all this time." He fumbled for Andrea's hand. "She could've killed you and your mother this morning. Do you believe me now when I tell you that it's not safe for you to be out alone?"

"It appears that it's not safe for you to be out either."

"She wasn't after me. At least not in the way that she actually hurt me," Dillon said. "When I'm through at the hospital, I'm going out to find her."

"No, you're going straight home to bed. I mean it, Dillon. You promised you'd stay away from her."

"That was when I thought the cops were gonna actually do their jobs and find her. How long are we supposed to put up with this? Am I supposed to worry every time we step foot out of the house?"

"Of course not. It's like Scott said the other night. If she were smart, she'd have left town, Dillon. The fact that she's still here makes her capture inevitable."

"Let's just hope they're not charging her with murder when they finally get around to catching her," Dillon muttered. "At this rate, that might well be the case."

After sixteen stitches in his right leg and a CAT scan to make sure his brain wasn't bleeding, Dillon was released from the emergency department of the hospital. A few of the nurses recognized Andrea from her trip the previous week, or perhaps Dillon, and stared with curiosity.

He wasn't amused.

Dillon took the keys to his truck from Harrison. "Take Andrea home and keep her there."

"Where are you going?"

"Out," he growled. "I'll be back home later."

"Dillon, I don't think this is a good idea. You were injured."

"Yeah, I was. I'm patched up now, and I'm gonna go out and find this bitch if it's the last thing I do."

"Andrea won't like this."

"And I'm sure she'll like it less if Heather kills one of us next time. I've had enough, Harrison. If the cops can't find her, I can."

"Dillon?"

Andrea stepped close to the gurney where he sat with a stack of white pages in one hand. Discharge instructions no doubt. Dillon cupped the back of her neck and kissed her. "Go home with Harrison and Beatrice."

"I'm not going without you."

"Yes, you are. I have errands to run."

"I thought you were coming with me to the gym this afternoon."

"You'll be fine with your parents there."

"Dillon, I know what you're planning to do. Please don't. She already hurt you once today. Just come home with me."

"For what, another hour or two until you go off to teach yoga tonight?"

"I'll call Bobby and cancel my classes. You know he suggested it until this mess with Heather is resolved. I'll take him up on the offer."

"I'm tired of sitting around doing nothing," he said. "If she's following me, let me lead her straight to wherever Officer Herbert is. I'll call him. We'll set up a trap."

Andrea frowned.

"What, you'd rather that they continue running around with blinders on?"

"No, that's not what I was thinking at all, Dillon. I think we should do it. She's obviously following us. Why not use me as bait to catch her?"

"Because I'm not letting her anywhere near you."

A television blared from behind a privacy curtain next to Dillon's bed.

"We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news from downtown. Denver police are engaged in a standoff with the suspect in Saturday night's arson in Capital Hill that gutted one home and caused extensive damage to two others—"

"Pull that curtain back!" Dillon snarled.

"Hang on," Harrison reached for the small television near Dillon's bed. He flicked it on and adjusted the arm so they could see the news report.

"... officers in Lower Downtown at a warehouse owned by Ford Limited used as a storage facility but also has a single loft apartment on the top floor. Details are sketchy, but a spokesperson for the police has informed channel nine that the suspect was involved in yet another crime earlier today, a hit and run accident where we're told, her victim is somehow linked to the arson last Saturday night."

"Shit," Dillon hissed. "She's at the apartment!" He shot off the bed, stumbled and fell into a heavy limp.

"Dillon, stop," Andrea pleaded. "She's cornered. They're going to catch her."

"Before or after she destroys our home?"

"Police describe the suspect, Heather McCoy as armed and extremely dangerous. Lower Downtown businesses are currently on lockdown as the police work quickly to resolve the situation. Law enforcement officials are directing all traffic away from this area and encourage the public to avoid the LoDo area. Stay tuned to channel seven for more details as they become available to us."

"Son, listen to reason," Harrison said. "The police would never let us back down there now, even if it is your home. Andrea's right. We need to let them handle this."

He limped and cursed under his breath. Fists clenched and released at his sides until Andrea intervened. She stepped into his path.

"Give me the keys, Dillon."

"Why?"

"Because I'm taking you home."

"You heard your dad. They won't let us within a square mile of the place I'm sure."

"Then we'll get as close as possible, and as soon as she's been arrested, they'll let us go home. I'm not watching you pace and pop your stitches because you're too angry to calm down."

"Let's go to Kelly's place instead," he muttered. "Scott's dad owns the building. If anything happens, he'll know about it right away."

Andrea wedged herself under Dillon's right shoulder. "Let me help you walk. Last thing I need is a more damaged groom on our wedding day."

Dillon realized she was trying to cheer him up. Unfortunately, only one bit of news would work. Until Andrea McCoy was in police custody, he feared his mood would remain sour at best.

*~*~*~*~*

"Settle him down. I'll deal with your parents," Kelly murmured to Andrea. "Guest room, third door on the left."

"Thanks, Kelly."

Dillon hobbled ahead of her. Andrea recognized the frustration he felt. She shared it, but realized it was very different for a man like Dillon to feel helpless than it was for most people. Her arm circled his waist before he reached the guest bedroom door.

"Dillon?"

"I'm sorry, Andrea. I'm not in a very good mood right now."

"Gee, I wonder why?" She twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. "It's been a pretty awful week in some aspects."

"Some?"

"The man I love asked me to marry him. That pretty much tips the scales in a good direction. At least, it does for me."

He stopped limping and rained soft kisses on her head. "Me too. I just want her out of our lives for good. You know I'm not angry with you."

"Is this what scared and worried looks like in Dillon Holbrook?"

"Scared, worried, angry, frustrated, impatient—"

"Want to breathe with me?"

Dillon melted against her side. "I wish I could. I doubt I'll be in the lotus position with my girl anytime soon. And yet another reason for me not to feel so happy about what Heather has done."

"Want me to teach you a little trick?"

"What kind?" His eyes narrowed.

"You still trust me. C'mon, Dillon."

He sighed. "I'm really tired, Andrea."

"And this will help you relax so you can rest. Take your shirt off."

He shot her a weak grin. "Really? In my sister's house?"

"Shirt and jeans."

"She ruined my favorite pair."

"I'll get new ones for you. Consider it a wedding present."

Dillon stripped out of his shirt and jeans and dropped onto the edge of the bed. He expected Andrea to straddle his lap. Instead, she dropped to her knees and tugged off his shoes.

"Lay down. On your stomach."

"All right." He rolled to the middle of the bed. "Now what? How does this help me breathe with—"

The aforementioned air hitched in his throat when Andrea laid down on top of him. Her fingers dug gently into the knotted muscles of his shoulders. "Feel me breathe and do it with me."

He moaned softly. Her fingers soothed his muscles. Her soft breath puffed against the back of his neck. Soft kisses punctuated words of love. Dillon's tension flowed away quickly.

"Better?" she nipped at his ear.

"I love you so damn much."

Andrea slid off his back. "Roll over, Dillon." Her eyes roved over his body and rested at the thick bulge between his legs. "When did that happen?"

"The instant you started touching me."

Her fingers slipped into the waist of his boxer briefs. "Well, you're not going to get any rest in this condition."

"Baby, you don't have to—"

"And if I want it?" she gazed up at him with a sultry stare. "Let me take care of you for a change."

His eyes drifted shut when her lips closed around his thick cock.

Chapter 28

Dillon woke alone in a dark room. He fumbled for the light on the nightstand and found a fresh change of clothes laid out for him. Scott's sweats. He shimmied into the snug fitting clothing and hobbled out of the guest room.

Kelly was on the sofa nursing Chelsea. The muted television flickered in the darkened room.

"Hey, you're up. Hungry?"

Dillon shook his head. "Where's Andrea?"

"At the gym. And before you panic, Scott's with her. We all agreed that you needed a decent night's sleep after what you've been through in the past few days. I saved dinner for you if you feel like eating."

"Not hungry." He slumped into a chair. "Any word on the standoff situation?"

"Status quo," Kelly said. "Who would've thought that ditz would be such a problem to handle?"

"Did she break into the building?"

"Not yours," she said. "She's barricaded herself in the one next door. Where Dad keeps the fleet vehicles."

"Fabulous. Why haven't they stormed the building and shot her yet?"

"Well," Kelly drawled, "she's talked to the police on the phone— mind you this is from Dad and not the police or the media. Apparently, she's threatening to torch every gas tank in the place if the police try to arrest her."

"Hence the standoff."

"Nobody wants to see her dead, or destroy more property."

"Scott's dad has a lot of vehicles housed in that building."

"Tell me about it."

"If she makes good on her threat, the whole block could go up in flames."

"Without a doubt."

"Do we know what the police plan to do next?"

Kelly shook her head. "Dad says she's demanding to talk to someone. I don't imagine you and I need to guess who that person is."

"Me?"

"Who else? She's clearly obsessed with you, Dilly. The fact that she hated Andrea all along simply pushed her over the edge when Andrea got her man."

He shuddered. "Funny thing about that is that Heather was never my type."

"Oh, and Rachel was?"

"I was lonely, Kell. Rachel was nice to me. At least at first. The date was a different story."

"Still calling it a date, huh?"

"That's what it was supposed to be," he muttered.

"She told everyone at the gym, Dilly. It's not your fault."

"I still had sex with her," he stared hard at the floor. "I should've turned around and left the second she opened her front door naked."

"You like the silicone. What can I say? It's your single flaw as far as I can tell."

"Liked," he emphasized the past tense. "Not anymore. I love Andrea, Kell. Everything about her."

"I know. I think everybody knows that. Ergo, little miss psychopath is on the rampage."

"Has Officer Herbert called?"

"I wouldn't know," Kelly said. "Andrea took your cell phone with her. She's tougher than I thought, Dillon. The girl is determined that you're going to have a peaceful night, and that this nonsense is over as far as the two of you are concerned."

He smiled softly. "Atta girl, Andrea."

"You're okay with that?"

"I've been pushing her to take her life back," Dillon said. "Who knew that all it would take was a little hit and run incident?"

The telephone in the kitchen rang.

"Be a good brother and get that for me."

Dillon dragged himself out of the chair and limped into the kitchen. "Ford residence."

"Dillon Holbrook?"

"Yes."

"It's Stu Herbert. I've been trying to reach you for hours."

"Oh, sorry about that, officer. Andrea took my phone and insisted that I rest this evening."

"How are you? The injury from the hit and run, was it serious?"

"A few stitches, and a bump on the back of my head." Dillon rubbed it ruefully. "I'm fine, officer. Please tell me you're calling because this thing with Heather is over."

"Not quite. She wants to talk to you. We've been trying to negotiate a peaceful surrender all afternoon and into this evening. I'm not aware of how much you know."

"Well, probably more than the television reports have said. My sister's father-in-law owns both buildings down there— the one Heather is in and the one where I live."

"We're aware of that. It won't be good if she follows through on her threat, Dillon. I guess that's why I'm calling. We'd like you to talk to her on the phone. The scene commander has offered to send me over to your sister's house to sort of facilitate that call if you're willing."

"She's the last person I want to talk to, Officer Herbert. I can't imagine anything I'd have to say would help this situation."

"And you're completely justified feeling that way, Dillon. However, we'd like to get her into custody. And we really don't want to see another couple of buildings destroyed. Perhaps you could rein in your anger for the greater good here."

"The greater good."

"Yes, Dillon. Getting this woman into custody so that you and Ms. Witt can get on with your lives, giving the rest of the world a little peace of mind with the knowledge that her vendetta against you isn't going to hurt more innocent bystanders."

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll talk to her, but I'm warning you now, I won't feed into this delusion she's got that I'm in a relationship with her. That's a line I absolutely draw right now."

"I'll be over to your sister's home within the hour."

Kelly stood in the kitchen when Dillon hung up the phone. "Tell me I didn't hear what I think I just heard."

"Kell, please don't start. He just wants this to be over. We all do."

"You're not going down there, Dilly. She tried to run you down this afternoon! I can't believe the police would—"

"I'm not going anywhere near her. She wants to talk to me. So I'll get on the phone, and I'll tell her that she needs to do the right thing and surrender."

"And what if she disagrees?"

"At this point, I think I'd just as soon she blow herself to kingdom come than talk to her. At least then, I'd know there's no chance whatsoever of her getting slapped on the wrists and showing up again. God knows, she sure seems crazy right now."

"Honey, she's going to prison. Don't worry about her getting off because she's nuts."

"How can I not worry about it? If I weren't in the middle of this thing, I'd be convinced that she belongs in a hospital somewhere."

"What are you gonna say to her?"

"I don't know," he muttered. "But I'm pretty sure it isn't what Officer Herbert wants me to say."

"It isn't like those buildings aren't insured," Kelly said. "Dad can file a claim..."

"C'mon, Kell. If she dies, you know Andrea will feel awful, like it's her fault."

"Well, she's got you to cushion the blow. I think you should tell Heather she's nuts and that even if there were no Andrea, she's the last girl you'd ever go out with."

Dillon sucked a deep breath in through his nose and held it. He wished some miracle would make the coming conversation unnecessary all together. Kelly was right. Heather not only needed the truth, she'd earned it.

*~*~*~*~*

Andrea's heart leapt in her chest when Scott pulled into the driveway at his home after she finished teaching yoga classes for the evening. Police cars were everywhere.

"Your father would've called if something happened, right Scott?"

"Uh, yeah. Pretty sure he's got no idea what's going on over here," he said. "Let's get inside and see what's happening."

Andrea barely waited for the car to stop before jumping out and running toward the front door. It slammed into the back of a cop when she flung it open.

"Whoa, there!"

"I'm Andrea Witt. What's going on? Is Dillon all right? Have you captured Heather McCoy?"

"Shh," one cop held one finger to his lips and pointed toward Scott and Kelly's kitchen table.

Andrea's eyes followed. An array of electronic equipment was spread out. In the middle of all the technology sat Dillon with a headset pressed to one ear.

He nodded but didn't speak.

"What's going on?"

Kelly squeezed through the wall of blue and gripped Andrea's hand. "He's about to talk to Heather. The police think that Dillon can convince her to surrender."

Her eyes widened. "Why would he agree to talk to her?"

"He wants this to end, honey. Believe me, this is probably the hardest thing Dilly has ever done. Please don't be upset with him."

"Not with him," she pointed to the cops. "With them. What are they thinking? This woman is crazy. She's been telling people that Dillon—"

"We know, ma'am," one of the cops said. "Now please keep your voice down. The last thing this woman needs is to hear your voice. We want her to surrender, not blow up half a city block."

Andrea pushed her way through the small crowd congregated in Kelly's kitchen and made her way to Dillon. Their eyes met. His held apology, hers concern.

Dillon scooted back from the table and patted one thigh. She sat immediately and wound her arm around his neck.

Herbert frowned. "All right, Dillon. The scene commander has her on the line. They're getting ready to route this call through to you here. Are you ready?"

He nodded.

"You need to focus on what we talked about."

"I know what's at stake here," he said. Dillon's eyes met Andrea's. "Believe me, I understand it completely."

Static crackled in his ear.

"Dillon? Dillon are you there?"

He tensed. "I'm here, Heather."

"Oh thank God. That crazy bitch has made everyone think I'm some kind of criminal."

"Heather, you need to stop talking and listen to me." Dillon's hand crept around Andrea's waist and stroked through the thin fabric of her blouse, not as much to soothe her as to calm himself. "If you believe that someone is lying about you, trying to get you into trouble with the police, doing what you've done today isn't the way to convince anyone that you're innocent. You need to walk out of that building and tell the cops your side of the story."

Herbert nodded and made a keep going motion with one hand.

"Tell them the truth, and all of this can end right now," Dillon said.

"Really? Then... then you believe me?"

"I'm not the one you need to convince, Heather. Please leave that building and talk to the police. Don't hurt some innocent bystander. I know that's not who you really are."

Soft sobs floated into his ear. Dillon rolled his eyes.

"I knew you'd understand."

"Of course. The police want to understand too, Heather. But you've gotta walk out of that building and tell them your side of the story."

"I... I will, but only if you're here for me when I talk to them."

"I'll meet you at the police station. I promise."

Herbert slid a note across the table. Dillon read it quickly.

"Stay on the line with me, and go to the door, Heather. Open it, and walk outside."

"You promise you'll be there for me?"

"Yes." He didn't hesitate. Freedom from Heather was so close Dillon could taste it.

"All right. I'm going to the door."

Dillon held his breath and waited.

At long last, the sound of rushing tactical specialists and a cell phone clattering to the ground floated over the connection.

"Let me go! You're supposed to hear my side of the story now!" Heather screamed.

"Heather McCoy, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent."

Dillon laid the headset down on the table and wrapped his arms around Andrea. "It's over," he said. "It's finally over."

"You did a great job, Dillon," Officer Herbert said.

"Thanks. How soon can Andrea and I go home?"

"I'd suggest you spend the night here. It's going to take awhile to clear that storage building and make sure there's no lingering danger. If they're done sooner than that, I'll call your cell phone. Deal?"

He nodded. "You're sure she's not gonna get out on bail or some ridiculous technicality?"

"I'm positive, Dillon. It really is over. Get some sleep. The two of you look like you could use it."

Andrea and Dillon didn't move while the police cleared away equipment and disappeared into the night.

"Are you angry with me for talking to her, Andrea?" Dillon finally spoke.

"I understand why you did it," she said. "Like you, I feel nothing but relief that she's finally not going to be able to hurt us anymore."

His eyes roved around the empty room. "Where are your folks?"

"They decided to get a hotel room after all," she said. "Now that this is over, I can't imagine they'll be spending much more time here."

"But they'll be here for awhile, right?"

Andrea smiled. "Daddy wants to replace my car tomorrow."

"Good. What time will you be done teaching tomorrow night?"

"Seven. Why?"

"I'd like to have a nice, quiet dinner with our family. We've got so much to celebrate, Andrea."

She nodded. "I agree. This is the beginning of our life together. That's as good a reason as I've ever heard to rejoice."

Chapter 29

Dillon flung his keys on the counter in the loft early Wednesday afternoon. In little more than thirty-six hours, his life had segued from intense anxiety to absolute serenity. He couldn't have been happier.

"Andrea?" His voice boomed through the empty space.

A slip of white paper on the black granite countertop caught his eye. Dillon snatched and read, "Afternoon picnic, three o'clock, botanic garden near the lotus pool. Formal attire not required. XO, Andrea."

He grinned. "Not required, eh?"

The clock chimed one-thirty. Dillon padded into the bathroom and showered quickly. He shaved, brushed his teeth, splashed on some Capri Orange and pulled a pair of jeans out of the closet. Before his fantasy of assuming the yab yum position near a pool filled with blossoming lotuses took him over completely, he paused.

"Formal attire not required. Does she want me in gym clothes?"

He grabbed the phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kell, I got a quick question for you."

"Shoot," she said with an audible grin.

"When a woman tells you that formal attire isn't required for a picnic, what does she really mean?"

"Not required, but it sure would be nice."

"For a picnic?"

"Honey, that girl would love you if you showed up naked, though I wouldn't advise it unless the picnic is in the bedroom."

Dillon chuckled. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"You're not showing up naked, Dilly. You'd get arrested."

"So what does it mean? Jeans? Shorts?"

"Tell me something. When she told you that formal attire wasn't required, what did you do?"

"I ran in the bathroom and took a shower."

"Shaved? Brushed your teeth? Made yourself all pretty for your girl?"

"You're a complete pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Well, did you?"

"Yes..."

"So dress up and knock her socks off. Buy a dozen roses and take a nice bottle of wine."

"Seriously?"

"Where are you meeting her?"

"The botanic garden."

"Okay, scratch the wine and the flowers— they'd be out of place in a garden anyway, but definitely dress up and surprise her. How many guys show up for a picnic dressed to the nines?"

"The nicest suit I've got is the one I wore for your wedding," Dillon said.

"Perfect. What time are you meeting her?"

Dillon glanced at his watch. "I need to be on the road in half an hour."

"Well, hurry up, slow-poke. Don't keep the love of your life waiting."

"Thanks, Kell."

*~*~*~*~*

Kelly hung up the phone and gave the thumbs-up signal. "Told you he'd call."

"Does he suspect anything?" Beatrice asked.

"Beyond a very romantic picnic with the girl of his dreams? No. He's as clueless as a man should be in these situations."

Andrea tried to turn her head.

"Be still," Bea said. "I don't want to accidentally burn you with this curling iron."

"I still think I should wear my hair up," she lamented. "He likes letting it down himself, Mom."

"Don't be ridiculous. With this saree, you absolutely must wear your hair down... and curled. You're going to look like a vision, provided you stop fidgeting and aren't late for your own wedding."

"Do you agree with her, Kelly?"

She stared at the mass of curls hanging down Andrea's back and nodded. "You look gorgeous, Andrea. Dillon's going to remember this day for the rest of his life."

"As he should." Beatrice turned the curling iron off and laid it on the vanity in Kelly's bedroom. "Now, turn around and flip your hair over your head so I can brush it out. Kelly, be a dear and get her saree from the closet."

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Kelly said. The saree was three pieces, the long skirt, a cropped top and a wrap that concealed all but a tantalizing glimpse of belly in the front. It draped over one shoulder in a cascade of lavender silk. Embroidered along one side of the traditional Indian dress were tiny pink, gold and purple flowers.

"Help her into the dress while I get the flowers to finish her hair," Bea directed.

Andrea stared at her image in the mirror. "I don't even look like me."

Kelly grinned. "You're just not used to big hair. It'll be tamed a bit after your mom pins the lotus wreath into the crown. You really do look amazing, Andrea. Dillon's gonna take one look at you and completely flip."

"I feel like I should call him and at least warn him what's coming. What if he's changed his mind about doing this right away?"

"He hasn't changed his mind one little bit. Dillon will be thrilled. Now come on and get into this contraption before your mom comes back and scolds both of us."

Kelly was fastening the amethyst bib style necklace in place when Bea returned with the delicate flowers for Andrea's hair. She clasped on hand to her chest. "Oh sweetheart."

Andrea turned. "Do I look all right?"

"You look absolutely stunning."

Her hand fluttered over her chest. "I'm so nervous. I can barely catch my breath."

"Sit and let me finish your hair," Bea said. "We've got to hurry if we're going to make it to the garden before Dillon arrives."

Andrea watched her mother transform her hair into a work of art. She bit her lower lip until it throbbed in protest.

"Calm down, Andrea. Your husband doesn't want to see a bleeding bride walking toward him at his wedding."

"Why don't you try meditating?" Kelly suggested.

"I don't think I can breathe without him."

"Then you're in luck," Bea said, "because you're ready, and it's time to go meet your future husband for the surprise of his life."

*~*~*~*~*

Dillon stopped at the ticket counter and paid his entry fee into the botanic garden. "Could you tell me the quickest way to the lotus pool? I'm meeting someone—"

The immediate grin and return of his entrance fee made Dillon frown. Andrea must've taken care of it in advance. The girl pointed him down a cobblestone path. "You'll go through the children's gardens, turn right and the lotus pool is straight ahead."

"Thanks."

He felt oddly out of place, entirely overdressed and suddenly nervous that Kelly's advice had been wrong, wrong, wrong. The only saving grace in the whole thing was that Andrea wouldn't mock him for failing to follow one simple instruction.

He wished he had brought flowers or something. Maybe had a bottle of wine before coming in here. Why was he so nervous?

It hit him in an instant. This was practically their first real date. One without company, one where they weren't entertaining family or being hosted. He grinned. Ok, so the engagement technically came before a traditional courtship. If this was what Andrea wanted, he'd be all too happy to indulge her every whim.

He rounded the corner of the children's themed area, past a garden labeled peanut butter and jelly and saw the long lotus pool. It was breathtaking, shimmering blue water with gently floating lotus blossoms bobbing lightly on the surface. The sun gleamed on the white granite stones.

And then a man wearing Indian robes stepped forward and smiled at him. "Dillon?"

"Yes."

"This way please."

All right. Maybe the suit wasn't such a bad idea. What had she done, catered their picnic? Curiosity propelled Dillon forward. He came to a grassy area near the lotus pond and stopped short. Seated in four white lawn chairs were Kelly, Scott and Andrea's parents.

"This way, Dillon."

The man in robes beckoned with one hand. Dillon followed him and stood beneath a weeping willow tree.

"I don't understand—"

Soft music began to play. Harrison got up and disappeared quickly. A moment later, Dillon realized why. His jaw dropped.

"Oh my God."

Andrea stood beside her father. The sight of her stole his breath, made his heart pound and his knees weak.

"Happy surprise wedding," Kelly said.

Dillon took two steps toward Andrea before the Hindu priest stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "She's coming to you. Wait for her, Dillon."

Her journey seemed like it took forever. Dillon saw nothing but Andrea, heard nothing but the whisper of silk as she moved toward him, and finally felt nothing but her soft breath on his face when they stood together. Dillon took her in his arms, and without thought, they began breathing as one.

Foreign words couldn't penetrate the circle that enveloped them. And as their life together began with shared breath, their future, too, began to unfold.

