Tracy stared at her.

Marisa collapsed into a chair and stretched her legs out in front of her, kicking off her shoes.

"Neither one of us was really comfortable there, so we wound up in a juke joint down the street," she said.

"And?"

"And we danced, and we talked, and oh, on the way there the boat ran aground..."

"Sounds like a dream date," Tracy said sarcastically.

"Actually, it was. I didn't want him to go home. I wanted to bring him right in here..."

"Where you would have found yours truly," Tracy said pointedly.

Marisa shrugged and nodded. "We're going out again tomorrow night," she said.

"Good!"

"I had to think of something to do, so I said we'd go to an art gallery downtown."

"Uh-huh," Tracy said, sipping milk from a gla.s.s she retrieved from the floor.

"It was the first idea that jumped into my head. We could be going to the moon or to the movies, it doesn't matter. What we really want to do is go to bed."

Tracy set the gla.s.s down and studied Marisa intently. "I see," she said quietly.

"I can't hold him off any longer," Marisa said. "I don't want to hold him off any longer."

"You're in love with him."

Marisa closed her eyes. "I must be. I've never felt like this before, I can tell you that."

"Then sleep with him."

"Easy for you to say," Marisa replied distantly, without opening her eyes.

"What are you waiting for? You're a twenty-eight year-old..."

"Please don't remind me," Marisa responded, looking at Tracy again. "That's the problem. How am I going to tell him?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much on that score," Tracy said lightly, avoiding Marisa's gaze.

"Tracy, if we make love he's going to figure it out. Trust me, he'll know."

"He won't care."

"How do you know? I've been working overtime to project the image of a mature, sophisticated woman. I feel certain it will come as a bit of a shock to him to discover that he's in bed with Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm."

"Maybe he'll think it's... charming."

"Maybe he'll think I'm r.e.t.a.r.ded," Marisa said drearily.

"Come on."

"Repressed?" Marisa suggested.

"I doubt it."

"A social failure," Marisa concluded.

Tracy was sorely tempted to tell Marisa that Jack already knew, but she felt strongly that Jack had better handle that bulletin himself.

"Some men would feel flattered. After being so selective for so long you chose him," Tracy said reasonably.

"I'm not sure Jack falls into that category. Something tells me that while I was dissecting cases and listening to tapes on Civil Procedure Jack was leaping from bed to bed like a hurdler."

"So what?"

"So I won't measure up to what he's used to. How could I?"

Tracy stood, dusting m.u.f.fin crumbs from her lap onto the floor. "He doesn't want what he's used to. He wants you. Why can't you just accept that?"

"I don't know," Marisa mumbled, standing. "Seems too good to be true, I guess."

"Take the plunge, that's my advice. You're long overdue and this man is one in a million. If I were in your shoes I wouldn't hesitate."

Marisa smiled. "I know you wouldn't."

Tracy walked toward the connecting door of their rooms and then turned back to Marisa.

"But alas," she said, "he's not pursuing me. Well, I'll leave you to your deliberations. What's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

"Putting together the final figures on the cemetery removal."

"And in the evening, your hour of decision." She placed her hand dramatically over her heart.

"Go to bed, Tracy."

"Yes, boss." Tracy saluted and disappeared through the door.

Marisa lay down on the bed Tracy had vacated, trying to work up the energy to undress. She felt exhilarated and drained at the same time, which hardly seemed possible but was true, nevertheless. After a short while she turned off the bedside lamp and lay staring at the ceiling in the dark.

In two minutes she was asleep.

Jack sat back in the porch glider and stared up at the half moon hanging in the sky above the trees. Sleep was out of the question and the blank, glowing computer screen on the desk just inside the door was a mute reminder that he couldn't work, either. In fact, he hadn't been able to do anything at all since returning from his date with Marisa except think about her.

A loon called in the marsh beyond the border of his rental property, and the cry was answered by squawking nocturnal birds and humming insects. The Florida night was alive, and it made him feel less alone as he contemplated his life and his next move.

Jack had rented this isolated cabin, two miles in from the interstate on a dirt road, in order to have peace and quiet for his work. He had grown fond of the spot and had been thinking about buying the place when his six month lease was up at the end of December. Of course, that might depend on how things went with Marisa. If they went any further at all.

Marisa was intelligent enough to know that they were at a crossroads; they weren't kids and the s.e.xual tension between them was becoming unbearable. They were either going to do something about it or go their separate ways. He was alarmed to discover that he found the second possibility almost frightening.

Jack propped his feet up on the porch banister and the glider creaked with the movement. It was amazing how important this woman had become to him in such a short time. He found it difficult to concentrate on anything but his pursuit of her, and he didn't want to ruin his chances with her by taking the wrong step. He felt as uncertain as a schoolboy, but determined to have her anyway. For the first time in a long while he felt reckless and uncontrolled. If somebody tried to take her away from him now he'd fight for her.

n.o.body had better get in his way. He stood purposefully and went back into the house.

Marisa dressed in a denim skirt and a flowered blouse for her date with Jack the next night. She was putting gold hoops in her ears when Tracy looked through the connecting door and groaned.

"Don't start," Marisa said warningly.

"That blouse b.u.t.tons up to your eyeb.a.l.l.s," Tracy said. "Don't you have anything with a scoop neck?"

"No."

"What are you wearing underneath?" Tracy asked.

Marisa threw her a disgusted glance.

"All right, all right. I always get lucky when I'm sporting the most ragged, ridiculous underwear I own. I was just trying to give you the benefit of my experience. It's best to be prepared," Tracy said. She disappeared briefly and then returned, proffering a hinged bangle bracelet set with tiny diamond chips.

"Wear this," she said. "For luck."

Marisa took the florentined ornament and clasped it around her wrist. "Thank you."

Tracy sighed. "I wish I were getting ready for a big date. The only men I've met down here are the gay doorman and Lasky's court clerk, who shows me sweet pictures of his grandchildren."

"Your time will come."

"Not soon enough for me."

Marisa picked up her purse.

Tracy gave her a thumbs up signal. "Win one for the gipper," she said.

Marisa was still smiling as she stepped off the elevator and saw Jack waiting in the lobby. He turned as if he sensed that she had arrived and his eyes met hers across the expanse that separated them. He was wearing a ribbed cotton sweater in a light maize color with tan cord jeans and leather boat shoes. When he moved toward her Marisa felt as if everyone else in the room had disappeared and left them alone together.

"Hi," he said softly.

"h.e.l.lo."

"My car is parked in the underground garage," he said.

The gallery was on the other side of town, in a converted loft building near the developing suburbs. They parked across the street from it and approached the brightly lit exterior hand in hand. Marisa felt Jack hesitate when he saw that several of the militant young Indians who had picketed the courthouse were lounging in the doorway.

"Jack, this was a bad idea," she said quickly, stopping. "I just didn't think about it. You shouldn't be seen with me here. Let's go."

"The h.e.l.l with that," he replied, his grip on her hand tightening as he tugged her along. "Come on."

Marisa inched closer to him and kept her eyes fixed on the ground as they approached the door. She felt the scrutiny of the onlookers, and then Jack shoved her behind him abruptly as one of the young men stepped into their path.

"Bluewolf," the youth said evenly.

"Forest," Jack replied in the same tone.

"I hope you're not planning to bring that lady inside," Jim Forest said, and there was no mistaking his sneering emphasis on the word "lady."

"Why not?" Jack said flatly. "I thought this gallery was open to the public."

"She's not the public. She's the enemy," Jim replied.

"Jim, you're confusing the issue," Jack said wearily. "Grow up before you open your mouth and make a fool of yourself again. Now let me by." Jack made as if to pa.s.s Jim and the latter shoved him, hard. Jack stumbled and Marisa gasped, putting her hand over her mouth.

"Jack, please," she begged, desperate to avoid an incident. Why on earth hadn't she guessed that something like this might happen? Jack had her so befuddled that she wasn't thinking clearly.

"Get your girlfriend out of here before something unpleasant happens to her," Jim said in a bullying tone.

"Nothing at all is going to happen to her," Jack said grimly, recovering his balance and grabbing Jim by the lapels of his jacket.

"Not as long as she has an apple like you running interference for her," Jim said, struggling in Jack's grip.

Jack's fist shot out so quickly that Jim was lying on the ground before Marisa knew what had happened.

"Get him out of here," Jack said tightly to Jim's companions, who were hovering uncertainly in the background, awaiting the outcome of the confrontation. They dragged the semiconscious boy to his feet and lugged him around the corner of the building.

"Jack, should we check and make sure he's all right?" Marisa asked anxiously.

"He'll survive, if the thickness of his intellect is any indication of the thickness of his skull," Jack replied, shaking the hand he had just used on Jim. Its knuckles were reddened and already beginning to swell.

"You shouldn't have hit him," Marisa said in dismay.

"Yes, I should. He's the worst of the bunch. He's been asking for somebody to take him down for a while. Unless I miss my guess it was his bright idea for Jeff Rivertree to shoot you. Jeff is just the gullible type to be used by a manipulator like Forest."

"What did he mean by calling you an apple?" Marisa asked.

"Red on the outside, white on the inside," Jack replied, glancing over at her.

"I see. That was a reference to me then, to your choice of companions."

"That was a reference to his own idiocy. n.o.body has the right to question my commitment to Indian affairs, least of all a layabout like Jim Forest, who hasn't done anything except run his mouth for the last ten years while I and a lot of other people have been working." Jack pushed his hair back off his forehead and then peered at Marisa intently. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Of course not, Jack. This is awful. I would never want to be the source of problems for you."

"You never could be."