He grabbed her wrist, then released it, wondering how many times he'dgrabbed her in the past. How many times he'd left bruises. The thoughtof having actually hurt her made his stomach turn.

"Don't leave me, FJLEN. Please ..."

How many times had he pleaded with her? How many times had his needsturned into demands, then threats?

"But, Jack, you need a doctor." She smoothed a damp curl from hisforehead.

Rising, she started toward the coatrack.

"It won't take long for me to hike to the' ranger station."

He could hardly catch his breath, and his heart hammered in his chest.

Adrenaline flooded through him, buzzing through his Veins and making his

muscles vibrate like taut strings.

"No, that's not what I mean. Come here and sit down. I have something to tell you."

Chapter Eight.

Jack ran his finger along the quilt b'mding.

"This piece" -- he pointed to a square of plaid material "--is from adress you were on the first day of school." He gently traced the squareof red gingham.

"And this one is part of a tablecloth from a very special picnic wehad."

His voice broke as he pulled the quilt to reach another piece.

"Your p-prom dress. You looked. so pretty in pink. This shade ..."

The pale ros-colored material shimmered in the light' from the kerosenelamp. Jack heard her gasp, but he r-fused to watch the light cast ahoney gold halo on her dark hair. If he did look at her, the expressionof shock and fear on her face would be more than-he.

could stand.

"We were wrong, Ellen. So damn wrong. I am Ham." The name left a bittertaste in his mouth.

"N-no. You're not him. You can't b." She placed a shaky hand on thequilt, and he looked up to see her weak smile of reassurance.

"It was just a dream, Jack."

His words were cold and flat.

"My name isn't Jack." Tears began to form in her eyes.

"Maybe it isn't. But it doesn't mean you're Hank Bartholomv. You'redifferent from him. Hank was selfish, greedy. He was sneaky andvindictive" A Killer Smile "Exactly. How much more vindictive can I be?I've exploited your compassion and made you take pity on me. I know somuch about you, yet you say we've never met before. Damn it, Ellen, Iwormed my way into your cabin and eventually into your bed. Isn't thatexactly how Hank would do it? Wait until you're off guard, then strike?"

"But you haven't tried to hurt me."

"Not yet. But don't you see? My memories are coming back, and at somepoint, I will become dangerous to you."

"I'll never believe you'd hurt me, Jack." She shifted to touch him, but he knocked her hand away.

"Don't be so damned sure. Your life depends on it." The tears washed thelast traces of hope from her face, and her sobs tore into his heart.Jack found himself consumed with a des/ re to comfort her, a desire hehad to deny. "I want you to go for help. Tell the ranger everything, andmake sure he comes back armed."

"No!"

"It has to be done, Ellen."

She lifted her head, letting the crimped waves of unbound hair fall backand reveal her ashen cheeks.

"It's too dark to go now. I'll have to wait until morning,"

He grabbed her by the arms, digging his fingers into her soft flesh.

"Ellen, you're stalling. You were willing togo when you thought I neededa doctor."

Determination began to fill some of the emptine in her eyes.

"Maybe I was. But since I'm the one who has to face the weather outthere, I'll decide when to go. And I say tomorrow."

He released her, suddenly aware of how tightly he had been holding her.He couldn't touch her again; he had no right. Jack drew a deep breathand spoke slowly.

"What if tomorrow's too late?"

A Killer Smile She ignored his question and turned to the quilt,stroking the edge of the material.

"Do you know what this piece is from?" She pointed to a triangle ofblack fabric.

He stared at it, finding no image, no occasion in his mind associatedwith it.

"I ... I don't know."

"It's the dress I wore at my parents' funeral. They died on my sixteenthbirthday. You see, Jack" -- she pro-not meed his name with unusualclarity "--this is a memory quilt, and not all memories are good ones.My grandmother always told me you have to recognize the bad memories aswell as the good.

"How can you know what sweet tastes like if you don't understand alittle bitterness?" she used to say. She taught me you can't learn fromyour mistakes if you don't remember them. I've been able to deal withboth the positive and negative sides of my past because I let myselfremember the sad times and the glad times. The quilt documents my lifeas accurately as a photo album or a diary. That's what makes this quiltso important to me."

He stared at the intricate stitches that had turn edna collection of scraps into a prized treasure.

"Did your grandmother make this for you?"

"" She finished it two days before she died. I came here a month later.She said she wanted me to-c-member eveanj-thing--the triumphs and thetribulations. The three pieces of material you recognized were from goodmemories, and that's not like Hank. He always--reaembered the bad." Hergaze became unfocused.

"Hank took great joy in reciting the list of wrongs he thought peoplehad committed again at h im.9' She dragged her attention back to Jack.

"Now,. you lie still." She retrieved the fallen washcloth and draped itacross his forehead.

"I'll bring you some aspirin for your headache and make you some tea."

A Killer Smile "Ellen, I" -- "Jack ... shut up."

The cool, soothing sensation of the doth did nothing to ease the stormof thoughts that whirled in his head. Snatches of memories blended witheach other until the mere effort of thought made his head ache evenmore. Early evening darkened into night, and for the first time he couldsee stars beyond the window Moonlight created a tableau of s'fiver snowand pewter shadows with glitter-flocked branches hanging low and still.With no trace of a breeze,. the only sounds he heard came from thecontented crackle of the fire that hypnotized him and offered him peace.

He lost the fleeting sensation of tranquillity when Ellen' lifted thequilt and slid in next to him. Before he could make any protest, sheplaced one finger on his lips.

"his our last night. I just want to be next to you." She wore redflannel.

Simple, practical, prim. Yet the sensation of flannel against his skinwas more intoxicating than any lingerie made of silk and lace. Jackfought against his body's betrayal, trying to push away the at-tra6fionhe felt.

An attraction he had no right to experience.

But proximity succeeded in destroying the painful act of concentration.Each contact, inadvertent or deliberate, burned through his resolve. Asa primal urge mounted in intensity, his physical woes diminished.

He was raging a war against blmll And losing.

When Ellen shifted in his arms, he could smell the light perfume of herhair that ma him stiffen in desire. "Jack?"

"Uh-huh?" He couldn't trust himself to speak other than a noncommittalgrunt.

A Killer Smile A Killer Smile "Make love to me."

Every muscle in his body contracted.

"No."

"We may never have another" -- "No. Don't say it." He couldn't let herfinish. He couldn't let her tell him they might never have anotherchance to make love as Jack anil Ellen.

She lifted wet lashes and looked at him, "I'm con He placed his hand over her mouth, unwi!lin to let her finishher words of misguided support.

"I'm not."

As soon as he touched her, he knew the gesture was a mistake. When hepulled his hand away, his fingertips trailed over her lips, slowly,deliberately.

She closed her eyes and arched toward him, se ding another wave ofdesire to flood over his dammed-up emotions. His fingers traced alanguid path down her chin and throat, then stopped at the ruffled neckof her nightgown.

The world swam before his eyes. A relentless need replaced the buzzingpain in his head. He eyed her with a renewed sense of hunger, knowingnothing short of death would prevent him from joining with her one lasttime . Ellen reached down to the hem of the gown and began to work itup, but he stopped her. The quilt slid to the floor as he moved to hisknees beside her. He cupped his palm around her ankle, then 'began toslowly, torturously push the nightgown up. A deeper form of desireseemed to knife him in the heart when he discovered the lace beneath the flannel. His hands shook, his heart raced, and his mind gxw blank.Instinct overtook reason.

Silk and lace.

Fire consumed the last of his control.

Jack straddled her, his hands dancing over the edge of the material,finding warm flesh beneath. She moved with a rhythm that matched thedriving tempo of his heart. He untied the thin ribbons that held the twosides of the lacy top together. He pushed away the s'fik to reveal herbreasts, small, firm and responsive to his circling touch. He abandonedher lips and began to concentrate on the soft peaks of flesh beneath hisfingers She moaned, her hands fluttering against him. He she was tryingto remove the last s'fik barrier between them.

"Not yet." He nudged her hands away, gently pushing her arms up, untilthey were over her head. Shegrabbed the iron bars of the headboard andgasped in pleasure as he used one finger to draw a path from her wrist,down one breast and to her lace. panties He pulled them slowly,provocatively down her hips.

A lone cloud muted the penetrating rays of the moon.

"Please, Jack." Her' husky demand made the room swirl in darkness.

"Please ..."

He ran his hand through the thick brush of curls, and she twisted indelight.

She released the bars, and her bold hands elicited a gasp of pleasure from him.

At first their actions were orchestrated like a chess game. Move.

Countermove. But soon, strategies gave way to intuitive abilities. Loveby instinct and instinct alone.

Lost in the ecstasy, he forgot everything. The pain, the anxieties, theguilt. She was sweet escape. Escape from the threat of memories hedidn't want to recall, much less relive. Shuddering sensations droveaway the fears, replacing them with a stronger memory to carry in hisheart for the rest of his life: a mental image of his Ellen, caught inthe throes of ultimate pleasure.

His Ellen.

My Ellen.

Hank's Ellen. A Killer Smile A Killer Smile Impeffect images returned asswiftly as they had been banished.

Accusing thoughts invaded his mind, blotting out the glow ofsatisfaction.

Exhausted, he struggled to breathe, knowing he'd used his meager energyreserve for a good cause. If he suddenly woke up with the rest of Hank'smemories, perhaps the side of his personality that concocted Jackwould/eaem-her and even claim the act of making love as his own. Itmight keep Ellen safe for a little while longer. He prayed it would.

Jack fell asleep, savoring the memory of their last passion.

Ellen stayed awake, haunted by the task she would have to perform in themorning.

She couldn't sit by and watch the ranger bundle his suspect back todvili. ation. I'll go with them. If lack is really Hank, the cabin willnever be safe again. If he isn't, then maybe we can come back and livehere together.

Ellen ignored the voice that suggested Jack might have another life toreturn to. She glanced around the room, grateful for the brightmoonlight that returned to disarm the shadows. Ill leave, what do I takewith me?

The shelves of the bookcase were sagging under the heavy load, half ofwhich was her diaries. I can live without my journals, she told herself.Her gaze dropped to the quilt that rose and fell with Jack's even rhythmof breathing.

The quilt. If I take nothing else, I have to take the quilt: It has allthe memories I need. I can leave the diaries and the stories.

Tess and lack will always' live in my imagination, and I can alwayswrite their stories down again.

Ellen thought of her possible return to civili. ation, and panic rose inher throat. The idea of leaving the tranquillity of her mountain for thejungle of steel and glass made her shiver.

A jungle of sounds--honking horns, irate drivers, impersonal faces.