Ellie headed straight for the passenger’s side and climbed in before Tanner could protest. “You drive,” she announced. “The keys are in the ignition.”

“I thought I warned you about that.”

“You and I have something in common, Tanner,” she growled. “We don’t take kindly to advice.”

They were halfway to town before he spoke. “You’ve got her fooled too, haven’t you?”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Maude. She’s swallowed the Saint Ellie image like everyone else.”

“Don’t goad me, Tanner. It just so happens that I am a saint. I’ve spent almost—” she looked at her watch “—almost nine hours with you and I haven’t killed you yet. Surely that qualifies for sainthood in some parts.”

He laughed, a short, sharp sound that wasn’t unpleasant. “My mother would have agreed with you.”

“Your mother must have been a wise woman.”

“Not particularly. She had phenomenally lousy taste in men,” he said calmly.

There wasn’t much she could say in response to that. He was driving at a surprisingly decorous pace, and he hadn’t had a cigarette in hours. She would have thought he’d be a demon behind the wheel. Right then she could have used a little bit of lead-foot. The last thing she wanted was to show up late to her own bridge club and start having to make explanations. People were going to be nosy enough.

“Is there any way I can talk you into taking the car?” She tried it one last time. “It would make things easier on both of us.”

He glanced in her direction, his smoky eyes reminding her of a timber wolf. “All right,” he agreed abruptly. “Though I disagree with you. Nothing is going to make things easier on either of us.”

She considered, then rejected the notion of asking him exactly what he meant. She was afraid that deep in her heart she knew, and it was something she wasn’t ready to face.

“I don’t really like bridge.” She changed the subject, her voice slightly rushed. “I just sort of fell into it. People were always looking for a fourth, and it was one thing that had nothing to do with the past. So we started meeting at people’s houses, first four of us, then eight. I expect we’ll make up three tables tonight. Actually, we spend more time eating than playing. And our table talk is outrageous. I hate to think what serious bridge players would think if they heard us.”

Tanner made a noncommittal sound, clearly uninterested, but Ellie plowed on, no longer comfortable in silence. “Sometimes I don’t think the others care that much about bridge either. It’s just a chance to get away from their husbands and kids, or an empty house with too many memories. It’s a chance to let their hair down and gossip.” Her voice trailed off guiltily.

“So I imagine I’ll be a major topic of conversation tonight. Over the chips and dips?”

“How about over the crudites?” she found herself saying.

Again that short, sharp laugh. “Tarnishing your image, Saint Ellie? You’re supposed to turn the other cheek.”

She sighed, recognizing the truth of it. She shouldn’t rise to his bait, shouldn’t fight back. Tanner was the one with psychic burdens weighing him down. He was suffering fully as much as his father’s victims, and if she could comfort the others, why couldn’t she extend comfort to Tanner?

“What are you going to do about supper? It’s already after seven,” she said instead.

“Why, Ellie, is that an invitation?” he mocked her. “I didn’t think so. Don’t worry, I won’t starve to death. Pete’s Fireside Cafe looked like a good possibility.”

“No!”

“Do you want to tell me why, or should I guess?”

“Pete Forrester’s daughter was killed in the massacre, and Pete took it even harder than most. He’d be one you’d want to avoid.”

“Maybe. Or the one I most want to talk to.”

“Don’t ask for trouble, Tanner.”

“I did by coming here.”

“Wait until I can come with you,” she said, and her voice held a note of pleading in it. “Please, Tanner.”

He said nothing for a moment. They were coming into the outskirts of Morey’s Falls, and the approaching storm had brought early-evening shadows down around the barren-looking buildings. “Do you want to tell me where you live?” he said, ignoring her earlier plea. “Or shall I just drive around and guess?”

“Take the next left,” she said. “It’s the house on the corner.”

Tanner pulled into the driveway next to the Judge’s huge old house, and his expression was sardonic. “Very impressive,” he said. “No wonder you married him.”

“Don’t. I don’t owe you any explanations.”

“True enough.” He turned off the motor and opened the door.

“What are you doing?” she demanded nervously.

“Seeing you to your door. It’s the least I can do. My mama did try to make me into a little gentleman. She failed, but a few things stuck.” He strode around the car and opened her door with all the aplomb of a uniformed chauffeur.

Ellie looked over her shoulder nervously. The gathering shadows of the storm darkened the streets that should still have been light at that time of year, and there were lamps shining in the windows across the way. No faces there, watching the sinner and the saint. “There’s no need....” she began.

“There’s every need.” His hand was under her elbow, guiding her up the uneven sidewalk to the back porch, moving her with such gentle force that she had no chance to limp, no chance to pull back. He paused on the porch outside the back door, releasing her, and opened the door. “You don’t lock your house either, do you?” His voice was deep with disapproval.

“There’s no need.”

“Lock your door, Ellie,” he ordered. “And I’ll keep away from Pete’s Fireside Cafe.”

She looked up at him. The shadows were all around them, the smell of the approaching storm thick in the air, and a sudden, waiting stillness caught at her. He was so close, and so locked away from her. His blue eyes were hooded, unreadable, and his mouth looked hard and unyielding.

It wasn’t. Before she realized what he was doing he’d pulled her into his arms, out on the back porch in plain view of anyone who cared to look. His hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her in place as his mouth came down on hers.

She stood rigid in his arms, surprise and panic holding her still as his mouth moved expertly across hers. His lips were soft, warm, damp, and the knot in her stomach tightened and dropped. The long fingers behind her neck were kneading the tense muscles, lightly, erotically, as his lips tugged gently at hers.

She didn’t know what to do. Half of her wanted to respond, to kiss him back, but she didn’t know how. The other half wanted to shove him away from her, remove the tempting warmth of his lean, strong body. She did neither. She stood there in the circle of his arms, unmoving.

He lifted his head, his mouth leaving hers, and his eyes glittered in the shadowy half-light. “You kiss like a virgin,” he said, his voice softly mocking.

She kept herself from flinching. “I wasn’t kissing you,” she pointed out with an attempt to sound matter-of-fact. All she sounded was shaky. “You were kissing me.”

“Then let me do it properly,” he whispered, and the sound played across her spine like a thousand tiny leaves. “Open your mouth.”

She could no more deny him than she could have stopped her heart from beating. His hands moved up, cupping her head, as his mouth caught hers, and her mouth opened, obediently, passively.

She wasn’t expecting his tongue. She jumped, but he held her still, tracing the soft contours of her lips, dipping inside, lightly at first, getting her used to the unfamiliar invasion. Her lips were damp, soft beneath his, and she began to tremble in reaction. His tongue touched hers, sliding over the rough surface, and the intimacy of it was unbearably sweet, teasing, tempting, arousing. Suddenly it was more than she could take. She twined her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his and kissed him back, desperately, inexpertly, passionately.

She could feel the hardness of him against her thighs. She could feel her nipples pressing through her cotton bra and shirt, pressing against his muscled chest. She could feel her heart race and her mind soar as she lost herself in the overpowering sensation of his mouth on hers. If she could she would have crawled into his skin. She wanted to rip off his shirt, to feel his flesh beneath her hungry hands, his body against hers, hot and hard and wanting as she was wanting.

His heart was pounding against hers and his mouth was no longer gentle; it was as hungry as hers. Her lip began to bleed again, and the small touch of pain was just one more point of arousal. She wanted to break the kiss, to pull him into the house, to lock the doors behind them and push him down on the old linoleum floor of the Judge’s kitchen.

The rumble of Ginger Barlow’s aging Camaro stopped her before she could make an even greater fool of herself. In sudden panic she ripped herself out of his arms, and he was too startled to try to hold her. She backed into the corner of the porch, her back against the clapboard, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She could feel the dampness on her mouth, the heat still rippling through her body. She looked at Tanner and wanted to weep. He looked watchful, patient, expectant. He didn’t look as if he’d just experienced the most profoundly erotic moment of his life. He probably hadn’t.

“Well,” she said, her voice low and trembling, “now you know. I’m human after all.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “You are.”

“Damn you, Tanner,” she said desperately. “Don’t play games with me! Leave me be!”

If she expected pity or compassion, she was getting none of it. “You’ve been let be for too long. Didn’t the Judge ever kiss you?”

Color flamed her face. “Sorry I was so inadequate,” she mumbled.

“You weren’t inadequate. Just...inexperienced. Why?”

“There you are, Ellie!” Ginger shouted out gaily, moving up the sidewalk with the sinuous stride she kept for susceptible males. “And Tanner, my goodness. I didn’t realize you were there.”

The hell you didn’t, Ellie thought savagely, and then thought better of her anger. Ginger had prevented her from having to answer a very uncomfortable question. Though she suspected Tanner knew the answer. He just wanted to make her admit it.

“I’m just leaving,” Tanner said. “I’m keeping Ellie from her bridge club.”

“Well, I’m part of the bridge club, and it’s okay with me. I tell you what—I’ll give you a ride home while Ellie puts out the refreshments I brought.” She was wearing too much of her current musky scent, and even out in the evening air it hung about them like a cloud.

“No thanks,” Tanner said distantly. “We’ll finish this tomorrow, Ellie. First thing.” And with that parting threat he left them, moving down the steps to the car with a loose-limbed grace that caught Ellie in the pit of her stomach and warred with the panic that had settled there.

Ginger let out a gusty sigh as he drove away. “That is some man, I tell you,” she said. “They don’t grow too many of them in these parts.” She turned her attention to her friend, and her wide blue eyes narrowed. “What were you two talking about when I got here? It must have been something pretty intense.”

“We were talking about the massacre,” Ellie lied with a skill so immediate that it astounded her.

Ginger shook her head. “That’s no way to win him.”

“Win him?” Ellie echoed, glad she was still standing in the shadows. “Why in the world would I want to win him?”

“Like I just told you, Ellie. Men like Tanner don’t come around too often.”

“Thank God,” she muttered.

“You really don’t want him?” Ginger demanded. “You’re absolutely sure?”

Ellie looked at her old friend with knowing eyes. For a moment she wondered what Ginger would say if she told her the truth. If she said, yes, I want him, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Keep your hands off him, he’s mine.

Ginger wouldn’t believe it. Ginger would laugh. Ginger believed what she wanted to believe, whatever was most convenient in her own self-centered life. Ginger wanted Tanner; Ellie had recognized that fact the moment she saw the two of them together, and nothing on this earth was going to shake her determination. Nothing short of Tanner’s outright refusal, and much as Ellie might like to fantasize about that possibility it was highly unlikely.

If she had any sense at all she wouldn’t want him herself. She’d pass him on to Ginger with her blessing and without a second thought. “I’m sure,” she said in the shadows. And very carefully she wiped the dampness from her lips.

It had been a cool night. A sleepless night. Ellie had lain awake for hours, too tired to get up to close the window, too wide-awake to do more than lie there and worry. By six o’clock in the morning she was down in the huge old kitchen, drinking coffee in her oversize flannel nightgown, her bare feet cold on the aging linoleum as she looked around her.

If she was going to stay, she could do things about the place, she thought, not for the first time. She could paint the tall brown cabinets white, hang plants in the bay window, pull up the cracked linoleum to show the wide pine boards beneath. She could put a radio in and play country music while she baked bread. She could raise a passel of kids. It was a big house—it could hold a lot of kids. The sound of children’s laughter would do a lot to lighten up this dark old place.

But children needed a father. And there wasn’t a single possibility. She wasn’t going to marry Bernie Appleton or Fred Parsons with their ready-made families. And she’d long ago given up on Lonnie.

How far was Tanner going to push her when he came over this morning? She couldn’t tell him the truth—she owed Lonnie that much. She owed the Judge that much. Besides, it was none of his business. Her past sex life was her own concern and no one else’s, and he had a lot of nerve making assumptions, asking questions, pushing her for answers.

Life was so much easier twenty, thirty years ago. Women were expected to be in a state of relative purity, and no one would have suggested otherwise.

Except, of course, if they’d been married, she reminded herself grimly. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried.

She had never been able to pinpoint when the Judge’s feelings about her changed from parental to something else. Maybe they’d never been fatherly, and she’d just been too involved in her pain and loss to notice. When she’d finally realized that his possessiveness, his generosity, his heavy-handed attempts at flirtation came from unexpectedly husbandly feelings, there’d been no question in her mind what she should do. He’d given her more than any other human had, and asked nothing in return. If he wanted to have a real marriage she would give it to him.

It had been a miserable, humiliating failure. The Judge was too old, too tied up with guilt and confused feelings, and Ellie was too inexperienced to overcome his emotional and physical difficulties. She was left feeling confused and ashamed, no longer knowing what she wanted.

She’d gone from bad to worse. There were plenty of reasons for her failure with the Judge, reasons she could accept once the initial embarrassment had passed. As far as she knew there was no reason for her failure with Lonnie.

They’d been dating in high school, before the massacre. He’d been a shy boy, overwhelmed by his blustering father, inept at the manly sports his father had demanded of him.

But he’d been gentle and sweet with Ellie back then. And after the Judge had died there’d been no one else, just Poor Lonnie, fresh from an unpleasant divorce, waiting for her.

She’d given herself time. She’d done what she could, waiting for Lonnie to make a move.

He didn’t make one. She waited, and waited, and when finally curiosity and frustration grew too much for her, she took matters into her own hands. It had ended with the same futility and sense of inadequacy as her attempt with the Judge. And while Lonnie had been the soul of gentleness, she knew whose fault it had to be.

Now here was Tanner, reminding her of things she’d chosen not to feel, waking her up to emotions she hadn’t even come close to before. Here was Trouble, and instead of running as far and as fast as she could, she was lending him her car, her time, her mouth—and her body, if it ever came to that.

She reached down and rubbed her stiff knee. He was wrong about her knee, but maybe that was wishful thinking on his part. He wasn’t wrong about her. She’d been cosseted and protected too long, out of the real world. Tanner was as solid a dose of reality as they’d had around here in a long time. Reality wasn’t always pleasant, but it was better than sleeping her life away.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and hugged herself in the chilly kitchen. Two weeks. Tanner would be gone, and so would she. Maude would keep the horses, Jamie would feed them, and when she got settled she’d send for them. She’d have to come back for them—no one else would be able to get Shaitan into a horse trailer. But that would be the last time. Maude hadn’t left Morey’s Falls in more than twenty years, but for Ellie she’d do it. The Barlows would come to visit, wherever she ended up. But never again would she live in a living monument to death like Morey’s Falls.

She didn’t hear the door open. She didn’t feel the eyes on her, so different from the angry, threatening gaze that seemed to haunt her, the gaze she could never trace. She was staring sightlessly out the side window, into her blank future, when Tanner spoke.

“Is that nightgown an invitation? If so, I ought to tell you that I prefer silk to flannel.” And he shut the door behind him with a quiet little click before advancing on her, purpose in every line of his graceful body, his eyes intent.