"How often do you have to pull yourself out of a snowbank and warm yourchilled toes by the fire?" He reached under the quilt and gave her foota quick fickle.

She motioned for him to come closer, then splayed her hand against hischest.

"As I recall, sir, my toes weren't the only things that were cold." Shefingered the muscles flexing beneath her palm.

"But I thought your way of handling my problem was ... sufficient."

"lust sufficient?" He brushed the hair from her shoulders and began totrail kisses across the back of her neck. He spoke, sandwiching eachword between kisses.

"But think about combining the two--you and me--in a hot When shegroaned, she had no idea whether it was in response to the mentalpicture she had of making love to Jack in a hot tub, or to thecaptivating sensation of his lips warming her." I have a tub." EHENmanaged a strangled whisper. She leaned back as a wave of overpoweringdesire made her gasp for air.

"We can ... heat the water ... " He gently pushed her against themetal bed frame, imprisoning her against the headboard.

"How long does it take?" He didn't walt for an answer. His lips capturedher total attention, melting her control.

"Too long ..." she whispered.

ELLEN WOO to I-IAV Srayf in bed with Jack all day if Hermitt hadn'twhined to be let out. She got up and waited at the door impatiently,hopping from one foot to the other until he bounded back into the cabin,leaving messy tracks across the floor. Forgetting about their guest,Hermitt jumped onto the bed and shook the snow off into Jack's face.

Jack ruffled the dog's fur.

"You sure do know how to bust up a guy's good time, dog-breath. If youthink you're protecting her virtue, let me clue you in." He dragged thebig animal closer and spoke in a stage whisper.

"You're too late!"

She shifted her robe to cover her bare legs as she sat on the bed, scratching Hermitt under the-chin.

"You're no protection, are you, boy?" The dog buried his nose in her

hand, and his tail started anew tempo.

Jackshook his head.. "Don be too sure about that. He became more than a

bit term'torial with me this morning. I thought he might decide to bite'

first and ask questions later "

"Hermitt? Bite you?" She giggled at the mental image. "He might lick you

to death or asphyxiate you with his terrible doggitosis, but I really

doubt he'd bite."

"Oh, c'mon, Ellen. Cut my buddy here a little slack." Jack gave the doga resounding thump on his solid flank, 114 A Killer Smile resulting in a series of enthusiastic wags.

"You might be surprised what a guy could do if properly aroused."

Ellen's eyebrows went up at the word aroused. She waggled her finger in Jack's grinning face.

"Oh, no, you don't! We've been in bed all day, and I still have chores

to do!"

"Chores? Like what?"

She stood and placed one hand on her hip and used the other to stab in

Hermitt's direction.

"Choir, like cleaning up after this beast."

She urned and pointed to Jack.

"And after you, too!"

"Me?"

Ellen nodded toward the kitchen table.

"Don't you remember the big mess you made in my kitchen with your Julia

Child impression?"

He threw back the quilt to reveal a bare torso.

"I'll help" -- "No." She gestured for him to remain in bed, One look at

his nude body would prevent her from concentrating on absolutely anything else.

"Even here, the regular rules still stand. You cooked. I'll dean."

Jack draped the quilt over his lap, leaned back against the iron bed frame and laced his fingers behind his head. "Nice nile."

She forced herself to ignore him as she cleaned up the breakfast dishes and planned for their evening meal. Somehow lunch had been lost in the shuffle, forgotten as other appetites were being satisfied.

Ellen's sense Of contentment manifested itself in music, and she startedhumming as she plunged her hands into the cold, soapy water.

She heard the bedsprings creak as Jack stood. Snidng a glance over hershoulder, she admired the view as he dressed. She kept humming, hopingher uninterrupted tune might camouflage her growing interest.

A Killer Smile Watching him dress was nearly ing him undress. Butneither undressing him herself.

Jack looked up after snapping the name of that song?"

"The song? I don't dishes, wondering if her euiosit obvious.

"I'm sure I know it." He beg eventually breaking out his clear tenorvoice as reached the chorus, he crossexl't imitation of a leading man inend of his performance the soap for the tears in her eye, "Ta-da!" Jackstretched out standing ovation? For me? I is it my reward for remembegicloser, reaching around her for "Yes. And here's your rewrd took thetowel from him, tossl: pulled him into her arms. She warmth she couldinto the sponded with equal conviction, from him and returned to thecentered on her back.

"I can get a kiss like that his hushed words.

"In key?"

Ellen glanced back over "Hank couldn't carry a tune Jack watched renewedtruth hit him: it was omew had been banished forevi simple melody.

A Killer Smile A Killer Smile Ellen threw the towel at him.

"Yes, you do! You just Want to kcp me in suspense, to keep me a prisonerof your ignoranco!"

"Well, what about met' he countered.

"I'm a prisoner of the weather."

And love.

The thought stopped him cold.

Where did that come from?

If he loved her, how could he expect her to invest herself in ardationship with a man who didn't even know who he was? In a blindingflash his world changed; it became absolutely imperative for him todiscover his identity.

Elle deserved to love a complete man, one with a background andmemories.

Oblivioas of his new mandate, she stirred the fireplace ashes with apoker.

"Well, Prisoner Number 4726420 ... I have to get some work done.Someone around here has to earn a living to afford all this luxury."

Jack gestured toward the drawing board.

"You work. I'll take care of my own entertainment for a while." Astempted as he was to stand over her shoulder and watch her sketch, hedecided to find some reading ma rial to pass the time.

Her bookshelf was packed with book club volumes, paperbacks, and anentire shelf devoted to nothing but reams of paper, bounded by rubberbands, and wire-bound notebooks. The mystery of the notebooks beckonedto him.

Sneaking a look over his shoulder, he was relieved to see that Ellenappeared totally absorbed by her work. Sure that he was unobserved, Jackchose a volume at random and settled in the rocking chaff.

Her schoolgirl-style handwriting was easy to read.

HOW could I tell him what I felt for him? He didn't even know I was alive.

All he could do was moon over Patricia, like she was the only girl inthe world. It makes me want to puke.

Jack stared at the page. What is this junk?

He examined the inside of the notebook cover.

"My Diary-- Volume 4: September 1,1974, to April 26,1976." Feeling atwinge of embarrassment, he shoved the notebook back into its gap. Butcuriosity returned, fought and won the battle it raged for hisattention.

Jack skipped down several notebooks and pulled out another, markedVolume 7.

November 12. If I have to conjugate another verb in French, I think I'llblow my lid. I've demonstralxl repeatedly I have no aptitude whatsoeverfor foreign hnguages, so why continue to make both me and MadameRandolph miserable?

A few notebooks down he found Volume 10.

October 23. College has always represented so many hopes for me, but nowthat I'm here, I find it strangely lacking. I guess I expectedeverything to change once I became a coed. In some ways, it has. No oneknows about-More and Dad, so there's no stigma about be' rag an orphan.I hate that word. It sounds so Dickensian.

Jack turned to a dog-eared page.

December 6. It's midnight and I'm much too excited to sleep. Phyllistalked me into attending a smoker at the Theta house and, of course, itwas smoky, noisy and totally boring. That is, until one of the jockstried A Killer Smile to make a move on me. I thought I could handle him,but he was big and drunk and started getting rough. Then my knight cameand rescued me.

It was just like a dream. He rushed up and got me away from the slob.

My rescuer and I spent all evening talking on the quad. He's funny, cute, smart--and a great kisser. He wants to go out Saturday night to areally nice restaurant. I think I'll always remember this date--thenight I met Hank Bartholomew.

"Jack felt his stomach grind in protest. You're not kidding. He skippeda few entries.

January 9: We've been going out for a month now, and Hank surprised mewith an elaborate picnic to celebrate. He was real understanding when Ir6fused to make love to him. I know I'm a prude. :I can't help it. Itjust doesn't feel right. yet.

March 26. Something's wrong and I can't put my finger on it. When Hankcame back from spring break, he seethed different. When we go out,sometimes he won't even talk. I wonder if I should think about breakingup with him.

He's too moody.

April 13. Damn Hank! He out-and-out lied to me. I don't and if we changeour plans--but thisl Tomorrow, I'm telling him to take a hike.