After breaking down like a five-year-old in front of Hazel and George, Lacey had been consoled—as if she'd deserved consoling—and tucked in on the front porch swing to take in some fresh air.

A thousand nights of fresh mountain air couldn’t make her forget what a fool she'd just made of herself over a man she didn't even like.

She'd spent the past twenty minutes trying to understand her actions and trying to reach her spiritual guide; maybe there was some way she could earn a second chance back in the twenty-first century. But she'd had no luck, in the form of insight or angels, and she'd found herself struggling with tears again.

Then, suddenly, she’d looked up and found Matthew Brady sitting on his horse in the front yard.

George had lit the lanterns on the porch for her before turning in for the night, and they'd illuminated the marshal's intense expression as he climbed the porch steps and headed toward her. She'd allowed him to yank her up from the porch swing, believing that she deserved his anger for what she'd done, but the last thing on earth she'd expected was for him to kiss her.

Lacey didn't know what to do with her hands, or with her lips, for that matter. She was a little too stunned to react at first. Matthew had one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, and one hand tangled securely in her hair—obviously intending to keep her in place until he was good and ready to let her go. For the moment, Lacey was perfectly happy to remain right where she was.

The man was doing the most amazing things to her heart rate. Every slide of his lips, every tug with his teeth, every tantalizing plunge of his tongue into her mouth, made a whole new set of nerve endings fire in her body.

He groaned deep in his throat as she started to respond to him. “That’s right,” he whispered against her lips. "Let me in, Lacey."

Yes, let him in. All the way in, something within her whispered. Past the pain, and the sorrow, the bitterness and the hurt. Let him melt the ice surrounding your heart.

But that ice was there for a reason, as a protective barrier against pain and loneliness, and Lacey had a strong instinct to guard it with every ounce of her will.

But then Matthew was kissing her, pleading with her. With every ounce of potent male power at his disposal he was urging her to let go, to give in to him.

Suddenly it wasn't hard at all for her to let her inhibitions slip away. She simply curved her hands around his neck, and melted into him.

He let out a groan, moved closer, and a jolt of electricity shot through her like a bolt of lightning. She felt herself being lifted into his arms. He moved backward and sat down with her on the porch swing. She took a chance and touched his tongue with hers, and he pulled in a sharp breath and yanked her closer. Their kissing took on a whole new urgency.

His lips left her mouth and scorched a path to her jaw. She bit her lip and felt her stomach leap as he licked her ear and sent her senses reeling.

"This is insane," she whispered as he kissed the base of her throat.

"Completely crazy,” he agreed.

A throat cleared loudly from the doorway. “I think it's about time you were headed home now, Matthew.”

Lacey pulled back from Matthew's hungry lips and looked over her shoulder. George Martin, bless his understanding soul, hadn't come outside. He was talking to them through the screen, standing at an angle where he couldn't see the scene being played out on his porch.

Lacey turned back to the man in front of her—around her, beneath her—and their eyes met. His gaze dipped to her mouth, and for a moment Lacey thought he might start kissing her again, George be damned. But then he slowly stood, and set her back on her feet.

"See ya inside, Lacey," George called. She heard the thud of the wooden door closing tight.

Matthew straightened the front of her dress. He was lingering over the task. "You'll be having dinner at my place tomorrow night," he told her.

She nodded, breathless and not about to argue.

With that, he crossed the porch, climbed up onto his horse, and rode off into the night.

* * *

"Sir, we have a serious problem."

"What is it now, Nelson?"

"The woman has turned wanton.”

"I beg your pardon?"

Stella stood in the department head’s office, laughing and clapping her hands. “They’ve kissed, sir. Isn't it wonderful?!”

"In the vast bank of human rhetoric," Nelson commented dryly, "wonderful is not exactly the word that leaps to mind."

"Do you think it wise to be leaping into something so shallow?" Stella remarked.

Nelson jutted his square, dimpled chin in the air and continued, "Amanda Simmons's guide is in a complete state of pandemonium."

Stella sighed and gave Maximillian an impatient look. "Amanda Simmons was never meant to live her life with Matthew Brady. Her guide was well aware of that fact."

“Perhaps you should tell her that, then? She is on the verge of resigning. The whole situation is a mess, to say the very least."

"Which you never seem to do," Stella grumbled.

Maximillian was scowling, and Stella was beginning to lose patience with both of them. She was certainly doing the best she could—and her client happened to be coming along very nicely.

"Stella? Explain this situation.”

“Sir, they've finally discovered each other—"

"They've discovered each other's physical attractiveness," Nelson cut in. "A basic human proclivity. Nothing more."

"She's allowed him to reach her like no one ever has!”

"I'd say she's allowed him to do a whole lot more than that," Nelson remarked.

Stella gritted her teeth and turned to the disputer. "If you interrupt me one more time I'm going to give you another dimple right between your eyes."

Nelson sobered. "You see there, sir? The dreadful woman is even rubbing off on Stella. I insist that you remove her from the nineteenth century immediately and toss her back into prison where she belongs."

"And what would that solve?" Stella demanded. "Mr. Brady would lose his job, Miss Simmons would still be single, and I'd still think you were a pompous windbag."

Nelson's eyes bugged. He opened his mouth to speak, but this time Stella held up her hand and stopped him. "Not another word until I have said my piece," she stated. "Sir, Miss Guarder's soul has been enriched by leaps and bounds in the past few days. She has discovered compassion, faithfulness, loyalty, and, I'm suspecting, love. She is on the verge of becoming all that she was meant to be!”

"She will not be removed," Maximillian answered.

Nelson cut loose with an impatient sigh.

"However,” Maximillian continued, “what has been done by your client, must be undone, Stella.”

"It can't be undone, sir," Nelson spoke up. "Miss Simmons’ history with men has been hapless to say the least, and now, because of Miss Guarder's lasciviousness, the poor woman may never find a proper mate.”

“Maybe if she grew a backbone…” Stella remarked.

“Your client’s actions have caused Miss Simmons to question her own lovability,” Nelson accused.

“Perhaps if Miss Guarder apologized to the woman,” Maximillian replied.

Nelson broke into laughter, and Stella pursed her lips in irritation. "Sir," Nelson said, "Miss Guarder wouldn't know an apology if it climbed up her leg and bit her on the—"

"Your point is made, Nelson,” Maximillian interrupted. "Stella. What do you think about this?"

“I’m sure an apology can be arranged."

"Oh, no," Nelson interjected. "Not arranged. Sir, remorse is something everyone must feel in order to grow spiritually. If Miss Guarder is to apologize, she must do so because she feels compelled to, not because her guardian has instructed her to do so. Miss Guarder must apologize of her own free will." He broke into a tight, smug smile. "From the depths of her own sweet little heart."

Stella glowered at the man.

Maximillian leaned back in his chair and considered Nelson's words. "Stella, you've said yourself that your client has grown a great deal since her arrival in the nineteenth century. Eventually everyone's morality is put to the test. This seems to be the perfect opportunity to evaluate Miss Guarder's."

"She will succeed, sir," Stella stated confidently. More confidently than she felt.

"I hope so," Maximillian replied. "I would hate to see this woman become a blot on your record that might force me to reevaluate your promotion."

"I understand," Stella confirmed. She crossed her fingers and hoped with all the stars in the heavens that Lacey Guarder would not let her down.