Chapter Three

 

She stifled a scream, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Shh," a male voice whispered in her ear.

Jerking herself loose from his grasp, Laurel twisted around to see Michael's face two inches from her own. Exhaling sharply, she glared at him.

"You scared the living daylights out of me!"

"Shh!" He watched the raccoon closely. The animal was alert, staring in their direction, and he warily sniffed the air before returning to his search for breakfast. They silently watched it for several moments.

"Isn't he cute?" Laurel finally whispered. Michael seemed not to hear, so intent was he on the raccoon.

Suddenly aware of Michael's chest pressing tightly against her arm, she grew warm as the heat of him penetrated her thin jacket. Every nerve in her body came alive. Turning her head toward him once more, she lifted her chin slightly. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the woodsy scent of him. She felt surrounded by his presence. The steady pressure of his body against hers gave her an unbelievable sense of security. She fought desperately against the strong, almost overpowering, urge to relax against him. Her eyes snapped open as he moved away from her. She turned her head away, surprised and embarrassed that she felt shaky. Laurel desperately hoped he didn't notice the trembling that his closeness caused her. A quick, anxious glance at his face assured her she was safe, that his concentration was focused strictly on the raccoon. Then she noticed the rifle he was carrying and watched in disbelief as he slowly raised it to his shoulder.

The warm security inside her chilled to an icy horror as she saw him take aim at the defenseless animal. Without thinking, she grabbed the barrel of the gun, shoving it down hard toward the ground. "No!"

The scream frightened the raccoon and it scampered into the thick underbrush.

"What the devil did you do that for?" He stood and angrily reset the safety on the rifle. "Do you realize that I've been tracking that animal for over two hours?"

Laurel jumped to her feet, her eyes fixed on him in a stern glare.

"You were going to shoot that poor thing!" she accused him, then jeeringly added, "What a big, mighty hunter you are!"

"Tranquilize!" He shook the gun. "I was going to tranquilize 'that poor thing'!"

The anger she felt drained from her body like water gurgling from a wide-mouthed bottle. Standing there dazed and numb, she watched as his irritation seemed to dissolve with a heavy sigh.

"Look, raccoons are strictly nocturnal animals." He spoke to her with the exaggerated patience one would use on a child. "That means if you see one out during the day, it's probably sick, maybe even rabid. It could very well be a threat to the other animals in the area. I was going to tranquilize that animal, cage it and have it watched."

Laurel was mortified. She'd done it again. Every single time she met this man she acted asinine. "I'm sorry." Miserable, she looked down at the ground and swallowed convulsively. It took all the courage she could muster to look him in the eye. "I didn't know."

Once again lowering her gaze, she wondered what it was about this man that left her feeling so uncertain, so inadequate. She, who single-handedly managed a successful business, who took excellent care of a sick parent and practically raised her younger sister, never felt incompetent. Not until she met Michael Walker, that is.

He curled his fingers under her chin and gently lifted until their eyes locked. "It's okay." His smile was kind, his look oddly intense and full of tender warmth.

His thumb softly caressed the silky skin of her jaw, then he bent and placed a light kiss on the corner of her mouth. "These forests and creatures mean a lot to me." His voice was quiet, almost reverent. "It's nice to know someone else cares as much as I do." He lightly smoothed her furrowed brow and added, "Don't worry, he won't hide for long."

Laurel felt her brows draw together as she watched him tramp off in the same direction the raccoon had taken. Her frown wasn't caused by worrying about the animal. In fact, she'd forgotten all about it. Her frown was due to a much different reason.

His kiss had caught her off guard, his soft, warm lips barely touching hers before it was over. Not having time to savor the moment had been frustrating, but what confused her was the warm tingling, something akin to electricity, that skittered across her breasts and downward, urging her to lean forward and slide her arms around him. But, thank goodness, she hadn't had time to act before he'd pulled away. And afterward, as he stared at her, his heavy-lidded eyes seemed filled with...

With what? If she didn't know better, she'd say desire. But that's impossible, she thought. Ridiculous, even. The man was going to be married. Shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, she shook herself out of this silly sentimentality and passed his quirky behavior off as gratitude. She had shown concern over one of his forest creatures. That's all it was. That's all it could have been.

But as she walked back along the path toward the cabin, the frown remained, furrowing deep creases in her brow.

~ ~ ~

Glancing at her sister swaying in time to the music, Laurel turned the knob of the car radio, reducing the volume of the only rock station Ginny could find.

"Tonight I'm going to teach you the meaning of the words 'good time.'" Ginny shimmied her shoulders and laughed.

Holding back the dubious retort that threatened to spill off the tip of her tongue, Laurel placed both hands back on the steering wheel and stared out at the road as far as the headlights would allow. Driving along the narrow winding mountain road during the day had made her nervous. At night it terrified her. However, the road conditions were only one reason she was driving like a little old lady on her way to church. She'd more than once experienced reservations about tonight and wasn't sure that she should be participating in this wager at all. But she'd tried everything else. If this was the only way to get her sister to consider college, she'd play Ginny's game.

"We'll never get into town if you don't speed it up a little," Ginny complained.

"Just be patient," Laurel said, not taking her eyes off the road. "These roads are dangerous."

"I know what you're trying to do."

Picturing the impish grin on Ginny's face, Laurel slowed the car to a crawl to turn a particularly hazardous curve.

"You're trying to get out of our bet." Ginny paused only an instant before she shrugged and said, "That's fine with me. You just remember not to pester me again about college."

"I am not trying to get out of the bet." Not wanting Ginny to notice her misgivings, she smirked. "In fact, I may teach you a thing or two." Stopping at a traffic light on the edge of town, she turned to Ginny with a sly smile, then chuckled at her sister's surprised expression.

"Yes." Laurel grinned. "We may discover that I have an untapped talent for having fun. So, stand back, Oakland, here I come!"

They drove along the dark and empty main street through the small, seemingly desolate town.

"Not much going on, is there?" Laurel finally asked.

"Nothing, I'd say." Disappointment rounded Ginny's shoulders to a slump.

"Oh, come on now. Don't give up so easily." Laurel turned the car down a side street and pointed. "Look there. Lights, people. This could be promising."

The tires crunched on the gravel lot as Laurel found a parking space at the end of a row. Removing the keys from the ignition, she studied her sister's discouraged expression in the shadows.

"What's the problem?"

Ginny scowled at the door of the building. "1 can't believe that all this town has to offer on a Saturday night is bingo at the local fire hall."

"Would you come on!" Laurel unhooked her seat belt then reached over to give her sister's shoulder a nudge. "You don't know that it's bingo. And, who knows, bingo might be fun." She opened her door and mumbled under her breath, "It's certainly more my speed than what you had on the agenda for tonight."

As the women stepped out of the car a faint tune drifted out to them, perking Ginny up immediately. "This may not be so bad after all," she said.

A large sign posted at the door read Welcome! Autumn Glory Festival Kickoff Dance.

The large, brightly lit room was filled with people of every age. Rows of trestle tables were filled with an array of mugs, glasses, soda cans, beer pitchers and plastic cups. The band was doing its best to ruin a well-known pop tune, but the crowd didn't seem to mind. Loud laughter and an open spirit of camaraderie permeated the air.

"How about if I get us a beer?" Ginny's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"I'll have soda, thanks. And so will you."

"Party pooper!"

Laurel took an empty seat and watched her sister cruise up to the bar. Almost immediately, Ginny was approached by a tall, blond teenager. Her laughing features tilted up to his as they talked. Laurel sighed and turned to face the band.

I'm going to be a terrible failure at this, she thought. Ginny was completely comfortable laughing with strangers, striking up conversations that led to evenings filled with casual fun. Could she do that? Nope. Strangers made her nervous and loud music gave her a headache. Yes, indeed, too many years spent taking care of too many responsibilities had pretty much suffocated her fun gene.

She smiled at the thought and placed her elbow on the table, resting her head in her hand. With eyes closed, she listened as the band played a half beat behind the singer's soprano voice.

What she needed was a nice, quiet man. A man who liked to spend his evenings playing Rummy or working crossword puzzles. But how would she ever find a guy like that in a place like this? It would certainly save a lot of trouble if he would find her...

Laurel smile widened as Michael's rugged image immediately appeared in her mind. Not wanting to admit that she'd made a fool of herself again, she hadn't told Ginny about meeting him on the path that morning. Her heart beat faster as she recalled his taut muscles and the heat she'd felt when his body touched hers. Remembering his kindhearted disregard of her rashness concerning the raccoon, she felt a warmth curl in her stomach even now. If only his lips had stayed on hers a while longer. If only she could have had time to respond!

She chuckled, then silently chided herself. He's already taken. Sighing, she twisted around to see what was taking her sister so long.

Ginny was still talking with the tall blond, and Laurel sat up straighter when she saw that Michael had joined them. She watched as her sister pointed in her direction and Michael's gaze followed.

"Oh, God," Laurel moaned as he strolled over. "I am not going to look like an idiot this time."

Smiling easily, he set a soda down by her arm and took the seat next to her.

"Hello."

She nodded a greeting, afraid that if she opened her mouth she might have to pry her foot out of it.

"I saw your sister up at the bar and told her I'd bring you your soda. I hope you don't mind."

Laurel only smiled in answer.

"I wanted you to know that I caught the raccoon. I heard from the vet this evening. It was sick and had to be put down."

"Oh." The word came from the back of her throat, low and sad.

"Don't worry. It didn't feel any pain." Michael placed his elbow on the table and swirled his frothy beer in his mug.

Laurel watched, transfixed, as he took a deep swallow, and she had to curl her fingers into a fist to fight the urge to reach out and touch muscle and sinew of his tanned throat.

"With the shape that raccoon was in," he continued, "it could have made a lot of other animals sick."

It was then that Ginny pulled out a metal chair, its legs grating loudly against the tile floor, and plopped down across from Laurel. Three other teenagers joined her at the table and she introduced Laurel to them all.

The name of the tall blond mooning over Ginny was Eric. Laurel was mildly surprised to hear from the conversation that he was eighteen. Despite his height, his slim shoulders and lanky build looked more suited to a boy much younger. Sitting next to Michael's manly brawn, she mused, put Eric at a distinct disadvantage. The girls' names were Sharon and Nancy.

When a lively song began to play, Eric asked Ginny to dance, and after they left the table Laurel and Michael talked to the two girls who stayed behind.

"So, Sharon, what are your plans now that you've graduated?" Michael directed his query to the plump brunette sitting across from him.

"I'm going to do some traveling," she said, barely able to contain her boisterous energy. "My grandmother lives in California. I'll be going to visit her right after Thanksgiving. As soon as I save enough money, though, I'm going to go everywhere, see everything."

"How about you, Nancy?" Laurel asked the other girl.

"I'm a freshman at Frostburg State." Nancy's demeanor was shy, her voice soft. "I'm majoring in elementary education. I love kids, and I've always wanted to teach. I can't think of anything more important than educating this country's children." Realizing her impassioned tone, she blushed crimson.

"She comes home to visit me every weekend, since the university's only an hour away." Sharon glanced at her friend, her brow furrowing. "I don't know what we'll do when I go away."

Laurel smiled, thinking the two girls couldn't be more different. Sharon's rambunctiousness was as different to Nancy's philosophic primness as night was to day. Hearing the girls talk of their hopes and dreams made Laurel feel much older than her twenty-four years. Did she ever have dreams of changing the world? Maybe once, she thought wistfully, a long time ago. Before she became so involved helping her family survive.

Eric and Ginny returned to the table completely out of breath after their vigorous dance. Sitting down, they both took long draws on their sodas. When one of the band members announced the next tune, Ginny gave Eric an almost inconspicuous nudge. The gangly teen moved closer to Laurel.

"Would you like to dance?"

"Um...uh," Laurel felt her neck and face flush hot.

The beginning beats of a slow tune drifted through the room and the lights went dim. It had been so long since she'd danced. And a slow one at that! She was sure to step on the kid's toes and end up looking like a fool. Yet, Ginny's steady gaze glistened with a taunt; it was clear the teen was sure she was going to win their bet.

"Sorry," Michael said, his warm hand closing possessively over Laurel's wrist as he spoke to Eric. "She's promised this one to me." He gently pulled her from the chair, then his hold slid from her wrist to her hand. Her skin tingled as his warm grasp surrounded her icy fingers. Propelling her to the dance floor with a firm hand on her lower back, Michael cleared a path through the throng of people.

Oh, Lord, Laurel thought. She'd have much rather looked like a fool with Eric. Glancing around, she saw the other couples on the floor begin to sway to the music.

Michael stopped and gently twirled Laurel around to face him. When she didn't move into position, he looked questioningly into her eyes.

"You look like you've been led to the gallows."

"I was just thinking that you may be sorry about this." Her mouth closed in a grim smile.

"Oh?"

"I haven't...it's been a...this isn't something..." When words finally failed her, she tried to finish the explanation with a dismal shake of her head. Slowly raising her lashes, she looked at him ruefully.

"Hey, this is supposed to be an enjoyable experience," he said, offering her an engaging smile. "Trust me."

He placed one of her hands lightly on his shoulder; the other he held in the crook of his hand. Reaching around her, he rested his other hand on the small of her back.

"Relax. I'll guide you."

Before she had a chance to react, he pulled her closer to him.

After a few tentative steps, his steady guiding pressure gave her a small semblance of confidence, and she felt the tension in her shoulders loosen. She didn't want to think about anything: making a fool of herself, or her rebel of a sister, or the problems that might be taking place back home, or anything. She only wanted to move with this man, to get lost in the crooning singer's words that complained of a life without love.

Laurel looked up into Michael's face and found his dark eyes staring at her. Unnerved by his intense gaze, she glanced over his shoulder. He pulled her closer, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to rest her cheek on his shoulder.

She inhaled slowly, deeply. He smelled so good. She watched his pulse beating in his throat and found herself wanting desperately to get closer, to press her nose directly to his skin. Noticing a short lock of his hair that curled toward his ear, she ran a finger over it lightly. It stayed in place only a moment before softly springing back. Michael let go of her hand and tugged her into an even more intimate position. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she wrapped both arms around his muscular back and hoped the song would never end. After a few slow beats, she pulled back a little and lifted her head, and she saw the same dreamy expression on his face that she was certain was on her own. She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her mouth.

"You're not as rusty as you thought," he whispered.

"Mmm," she agreed, her smile widening.

She switched positions, sliding her arms up and clasping her hands behind his neck. His gaze took on a velvety warmth even in this dim light, and she knew he was going to kiss her.

Slowly he lowered his head and covered her lips with his. The firm but gentle pressure was deliciously warm and moist. A familiar ache filled her breasts. Shuddering, she pressed against him as the ache traveled down, deep into her soul, expanding into a blazing flame that surged through her body.

A low, breathless moan escaped from the back of her throat as Michael ended the kiss. Her eyelids were heavy, and she opened them slowly, as if waking from a dreamy sleep. She sighed and looked into his passion-filled eyes.

Dimly, she became aware of the couples moving from the dance floor. The music had stopped and the lights overhead glared. She dropped her arms and stepped away from him, wondering how long they'd been standing there.

"Sorry...I don't—I—"

"Laurel." Michael cocked his head and looked at her quizzically.

Her knees were shaking and she hoped she could get back to the table without making more of a spectacle of herself. She felt him take hold of her elbow and was grateful for the support. All the way back to the table her mind was bombarded with conflicting feelings.

How could a simple dance turn into something so much more? She had become so aroused by his kiss. Had he felt the same excitement as she? Laurel had been so caught up in her own emotions she hadn't even noticed his reaction. What did he think of her for allowing such intimacy when they barely knew each other? But hadn't it been wonderful?

Michael left her at the table and went to the bar to refill their drinks. Laurel looked across to Ginny's wickedly grinning face and knew her sister hadn't missed the scene on the dance floor. Laurel grinned back stupidly. Nothing Ginny could say to her could lessen her pleasure.

"I thought you said he was already branded," Ginny said with wry amusement.

Laurel's hazy bliss slowly dissolved. Blinking twice, she stared at Ginny. What had she done? How could she have let that happen? She had completely forgotten that he was engaged. Her teeth clenched tightly. How could he do such a thing?

Nervous anger shot through her, making her feel hot and faint. Her sister reached over and, in a comforting gesture, patted her hand.

"Hey, what's a little premarital fling?" She sat back, laughing, and added with a shrug, "Who's it going to hurt? Enjoy yourself!"

"Yes, enjoy yourself!" Michael, who had returned in time to hear Ginny's last statement, set down a cold soda in front of Laurel.

She couldn't bring herself to even touch it, let alone drink it. Disappointment and guilt tangled in her gut. She glanced around the room, wondering if Michael's fiancée was there.

No, she didn't think so. Otherwise, he wouldn't have kissed her. No one could be that cold and insensitive.

"Laurel," Ginny said, leaning over the table, "the four of us want to go for pizza. Could I take the car?"

"But, um, how would I—no!" She frantically shook her head. She absolutely, positively, did not want to be left alone with Michael.

"I won't be late."

Ginny stared directly at her with a plaintive please-don't-embarrass-me look. Laurel sighed and put one hand up to her temple.

"Ginny, I'm tired," she lied. "I have a headache and I want to go home."

"Let them go." Michael's quiet voice made her turn in his direction. He placed his hand on hers. "I'll take you home."

Her steady gaze rested on his face. Who was he to tell her what to do? This wasn't his sister telling them she wanted to go off gallivanting with strangers in the middle of the night. And hadn't he shown her exactly how irresponsible he was by kissing her when he was engaged to someone else?

"Please?"

Her sister's tone held a plaintive appeal. Michael offered her a what's-the-big-deal shrug. And the other teens hovered with eager expressions. Laurel felt ganged-up on, that much was sure.

Withdrawing her hand from Michael's grasp, she reached into her purse for the keys. She was not happy. She'd let Ginny go, and she would let Michael take her home. But he'd regret ever offering, because she planned to tell him exactly what she thought of him. Him and his 'premarital' flirting!

"Sure, go have a good time." Sliding the keys across the table to Ginny, Laurel hoped the statement didn't sound as forced as it felt. "Ginny." All four of the teens turned to hear her say, "Please don't be too late."

"I won't, I promise!" Ginny called over her shoulder as she and her newfound friends headed toward the door.

Laurel clutched her purse tightly in both fists. The tight smile she had given to Ginny vanished, replaced by a grim line. She turned severe eyes on Michael.

"I'm ready to go." Pushing her chair out, she stood up.

He also stood, placing a hand on the back of her chair.

"Sure," he said, stacking the empty cups and cans they had used. "Let me get rid of these. And I need to find Darlene. Let her know I'm leaving and see if she has a ride home."

"The bride-to-be? She's here?" she asked through a strained, unnatural smile. Her nails dug deeper into the soft leather of her handbag.

"Yeah. She's a great girl." The laugh lines on his face deepened with his smile.

Laurel cringed inside when she saw his eyes soften as he spoke of the woman.

"I'm sure she's in the kitchen. Her father's a volunteer fireman, so she helps out the ladies' auxiliary when they're shorthanded. You want to come meet her?"

"Michael—"

"I'm sure she'd love to meet you."

The whole situation was more than a little odd. He didn't seem the least bit guilty, the least bit ashamed of his behavior. Maybe they had some strange backwoods customs here regarding marriage. Whatever was going on, it was making Laurel nervous.

"Look, I'm really not in the mood to meet anyone." Least of all your girlfriend, she silently added. "I'm really tired. My head hurts. I want to go home. I'll meet you outside." She turned and strode toward the exit.

Michael stood, bewildered, watching her walk away from him. What was wrong with her? Jim and Darlene were going to be married soon, and they'd be moving to Ocean City. Jim had been working for Laurel's father for quite a while. Michael would have thought she'd at least want to meet Jim's fiancée. Instead she'd used some lame excuse about a headache to beg off. She'd certainly felt fine ten minutes ago while they were dancing.

He'd never met a woman more willing to be kissed. He could still feel the pressure of her quivering body as she arched against him and the warmth of her silky lips lingering on his. She hadn't noticed when the music had stopped or the lights had been turned up. He could have gone on kissing her all night, he thought, grinning.

He'd reluctantly ended the kiss, not wanting to put on a show for the town's busybodies who were most assuredly on alert for the next bit of juicy gossip. Information traveled fast in a town the size of Oakland, and he didn't want his private life to be the topic of discussion. Michael was certain Laurel wouldn't appreciate it, either. She might even end up with hurt feelings. Lord knew how those gossip-mongers had dragged Darlene through the verbal dirt in the past eight months. Sure, she and Jim had made a mistake, but they were working hard to put it right.

With Darlene once again on his mind, Michael turned toward the kitchen.

Laurel made her way across the room, her ire building with each step. How could he? What kind of sick-minded clod was he, offering to introduce her to his fiancée? The thought literally made her stomach turn.

Then again, maybe she should have let him go ahead and make the introduction, she thought wickedly. Maybe she should have met the poor woman, talked to her, told her exactly what kind of man she was marrying.

Her anger turned to flames of burning fury, and Laurel found herself wondering what type of woman would marry a man like Michael. Darlene either loved him to distraction, or was terribly desperate for some reason, or had not a shred of self-esteem.

Curiosity made her pause, and then turn around. She scanned the back of the room, hoping to get a glimpse of Michael's girlfriend. An image flashed through Laurel's mind of a mousy girl with a severe overbite and thick glasses, her hair in a severe bun. Pushing away the notion, Laurel silently admitted the girl could just as likely be a tall, statuesque blonde. But then why would she put up with...

"Oh my God!" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Beg pardon?" An elderly gentleman on his way in the door stopped beside her. "You okay, sweetie?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he touched her sleeve.

"What?" She glanced up at the old man, startled.

"You okay?" he repeated.

"Yes. I'm sorry. Yes, I'm fine. Fine," she stammered. "Thank you."

She rushed out the door, her heart beat frantically, and she gulped the cold night air into her burning lungs. Slinging the strap of her purse over her arm, she covered her mouth with the fingers of both hands and leaned her weight against the rough brick wall of the building.

Laurel closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly and deeply, but she couldn't erase the picture of Michael and Darlene. Darlene wasn't mousy at all. She was blond. She was a beautiful blonde. A young, beautiful blonde. A pregnant beautiful blonde.

She swore softly. The poor girl looked twelve months pregnant! Why hadn't Michael married her already? What was he waiting for?

Opening her eyes wide, she pressed her hands to her temples. And before the events of this evening she'd decided he was so wonderful! Just then, Michael burst through the doorway and jogged several steps past her. He stopped and looked the parking lot over. Laurel walked up behind him.

"You—" she whispered.

He turned around, startled.

"—callous, cold, heartless beast."

"What?"

"You twisted, demented, coldhearted monster." Her voice rose in volume with each word. "You— you—jerk!" She poked him in the chest with the last word, then lost control. Her words tumbled out in a jumble of meaningless babble.

"You kissed me! She's pregnant! Real pregnant! How could you? Playing around. And her right there. Maybe watching! You—you. You kissed me!"

She was surprised and infuriated to feel tears sliding down her cheeks. She swiped them away and realized he was looking over her shoulder.

The crud! He wasn't even paying attention!

Michael casually smiled at several people who had come to the open doorway, lifting a hand to wave and nodding to let them know he had everything under control. Then he smoothly took Laurel by the elbow and propelled her toward his truck.

"I don't know what your problem is," he hissed. "But I'll thank you to remember that I live and work in this town. You, on the other hand, get to go home in two weeks."

What was wrong with her? Michael wondered. She had acted a little awkward after they had danced, but he'd thought she'd been embarrassed by the kiss they had shared. Taking her home and maybe sharing another kiss had been a pleasant thought, but now she was blubbering about kissing and playing around and pregnancy. He'd only kissed her, for God's sake!

Laurel got into the truck and let him close the door. She fumbled in her handbag for a tissue and loudly blew her nose. He got into the driver's side and turned to face her.

"Now that you've calmed down, you want to tell me what this is all about?" he asked.

"You kissed me," she said.

"You kissed me, too," he countered.

"But she's pregnant!"

He raised his eyebrows. "You're talking about Darlene?"

She nodded her head.

Michael rested his elbow on the steering wheel and opened his hand, palm up. "What does one have to do with the other?"

"You were playing around. Flirting with me!" Her words were stronger, her anger returning.

"You're doing it again!" he railed. "Talking of kissing and playing around and pregnancy! You can't get pregnant from a kiss!"

"I know that!" She glared at him indignantly.

"Then, what the hell's the problem?" he asked, frustrated by the senseless conversation.

"You are such a jerk! I don't even want you to take me home. I'd rather walk!" She opened the door, but he reached over and took hold of her wrist.

"Shut the door."

The dimly lit parking lot threw shadows across her glaring expression. She turned to him, eyes narrowed in anger.

"Shut the door, Laurel."

She obeyed his low, ominous demand.

"Thank you," he told her.

They sat in silence for a moment while Michael took a deep, calming breath.

"For the life of me I can't understand why you're so angry that I kissed you when I know that you enjoyed it as much as I did," he began. "But, if an apology will make you feel better, then I'm sorry if I was too forward. I shouldn't have kissed you."

"I'm not angry about that!" She spat the words out. "Well, I am, but—"

"Then what is the problem?" His voice rose an octave. Self-control, he reminded himself, self- control.

"Your pregnant girlfriend," she curtly replied.

"My what?" he exclaimed.

"Darlene!" she enunciated, loud and precise.

The light dawned, hitting him like a ton of bricks. She thought Darlene was his girlfriend, his pregnant bride-to-be! No wonder she was upset about his kissing her.

"Laurel, Darlene is not my girlfriend."

"Yeah, right! And I'm Little Red Riding Hood!"

"Well, let me tell you something, Red. Your problem is that you jump to conclusions too quickly. The first time we met, you'd have knocked me silly if I'd looked at you cross-eyed. And when I came to the cabin looking for my cousin, you took me for some kind of perverted rapist! And this morning you thought I was out shooting raccoons just for the sport of it."

He dragged a hand through his hair. "Now, listen to me! Jim and Darlene have lived together for a while now. They'd planned to get married as soon as Jim could find a good job. But then Darlene got pregnant. Jim still hadn't been able to land a job, so he went to the shore looking for work." He watched the outline of her pale, unblinking face.

"He called Darlene, really excited about his job with your father. He told her he'd fixed up an apartment and everything and was coming home this weekend or next to get married and then they'd go back to Ocean City to live. I don't know why Jim didn't tell you about Darlene. Or the wedding. Or the baby."

He glanced out the window. His next words were reflective, said almost to himself. "Maybe he was afraid of losing the first really good job he'd found."

Michael turned back to face her. "Look, I'm sorry you had to find out about this from me. Jim should have told you himself. But I hope it doesn't change your feelings for him. He really likes his job. And he has nothing but good things to say about your family. He needs that job! Those two kids love each other. And they'll take good care of that baby."

Silence settled over them for the longest time. She stared straight ahead, and Michael saw her swallow.

"Laurel." He spoke to her gently, but she didn't answer. "Hey," he said, and touched her shoulder. "Do you hear me? Do you believe me?"

Slowly she turned to look him. "Yes," she whispered, and immediately turned back to look straight ahead. "Would you please take me home now?" The words were murmured so quietly Michael barely heard them.