"What do you call what just happened?"

"I call that a juvenile delinquent looking for an excuse to make trouble. The unfortunate thing about any cause, no matter how n.o.ble, is that a small lunatic fringe will be attracted to it for all the wrong reasons. Now let's take a stroll and look at the pictures."

"You don't mean you want to go inside after all?" Marisa asked him, aghast.

"I'm not going to let a lout like that drive me away," he said firmly, taking Marisa's hand again.

They were the objects of some staring once they walked through the door, but after a while everybody seemed to forget they were there. Jack stayed just long enough to make his point, commenting on paintings and sculpture and woven wall hangings while everything went past Marisa in a blur. She didn't draw a comfortable breath until they were back out on the street and heading for Jack's car.

"I'm glad that's over," she said as he unlocked her door for her. "If I have any more bright ideas like that one please inst.i.tutionalize me until I regain my senses."

Jack walked around and slid onto the seat next to her, then started the car.

"Why didn't you tell me to pick another destination last night?" she asked him.

"You seemed to want to go to the gallery," he replied.

"I was just trying to think of someplace public where we wouldn't..." she stopped short.

He let it pa.s.s.

"You must have guessed there might be... some unpleasantness," Marisa said, after a pregnant pause.

"Well, I didn't know Jim Forest would be there. That was just bad luck."

"Don't be evasive. Obviously your seeing me has not been popular with your friends."

"They're not my friends."

"You know what I mean!"

"I do what I want," he said baldly. "If they can't separate your professional duties from your personal life that's their problem, not mine."

Marisa saw that it was best to let the subject drop.

He looked over at her. "Where to?" he said, as he guided the car out into the street.

Marisa took a deep breath.

"I hear that the house where you're staying is in a very pretty spot," she said. "I'd like to see it."

Jack stopped for a traffic light and turned to look at Marisa, his arm across the back of the seat.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" he asked quietly, searching her face.

"Yes."

"Everything will be up to you," he added. "If you just want to visit and then go home, that will be fine."

Marisa nodded, her heart racing.

Jack turned left for the interstate and then drove for ten minutes before turning off onto a secondary road, then turning again onto an unpaved track which ran through scrub pines and citrus tress.

"It looks very... private," Marisa said nervously.

"It is. This is my second attempt in two days to take you to a remote area and then have my way with you."

When Marisa didn't reply Jack looked over at her.

"Bad joke," he added ruefully.

Marisa said nothing.

Jack stopped the car and threw it into reverse.

"What are you doing?" Marisa asked, glancing around.

"You look like you're on your way to a funeral, which is not exactly the feeling I was hoping to inspire," he said dryly.

Marisa put her hand over his on the steering wheel.

"It's not you, Jack, it's me," she said quietly. "I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" he asked, looking at her intently, the car engine idling beneath them.

"Ah, this isn't easy to say."

"You've decided I'm the biggest jerk you've ever met."

"No, of course not."

"You got a telegram today from your doctor saying that you're dying of a rare disease."

"Don't joke about something like that," she said testily.

"Barring those two cases, nothing else matters." He gunned the motor forward again.

"But you don't understand..." she began.

"Yes, I do. We'll talk about it inside, all right?"

Marisa sighed and subsided. There was no reason to carry on this conversation in the car. He was right. It could wait.

They pulled into a clearing in front of an old fashioned farmhouse with a wide porch and an oak paneled door. Marisa emerged from the car to find that an evening breeze had sprung up, rustling the trees surrounding them and providing a counterpoint to the calls of the nightbirds from the marsh.

"This is so lovely, Jack," she said, following him onto the wooden steps.

"Yeah, it's been a great place to work. It's part of an estate. The daughter lives up north and doesn't want it, so the lawyer handling the will is trying to unload it."

"Have you been thinking of buying it?"

"I'd like to," he said, unlocking the door, "but I'm not sure it would be worth the money. I don't know how often I'd be able to get here."

"After the case is over, you mean."

He turned to look at her as he switched on the light. "Yes. I won't be in Florida much longer."

On that cheerful note, Marisa walked into the living room, which ran the width of the house. There was a fieldstone fireplace which took up most of one wall, a large rag rug on the floor in front of it, and rustic native pine furniture filling the open s.p.a.ce. Through the doorway she could see a vintage kitchen and behind it, a stairwell ascending to the second floor. Where the bedrooms were, she supposed.

"It's getting chilly, would you like a fire?" Jack asked.

"Don't go to any trouble."

"No trouble, it's all set. I just have to put a match to it." He picked up a pack of matches from the mantel and struck one, then lit the crumpled newspapers folded against the wrought iron screen. Marisa watched as they smoldered and caught fire, the flames licking the logs piled on top of them.

"There, it will be warm in a few minutes. This house is built like a hospital, with cross ventilation. It's always cool, a real advantage in Florida. The old guy who designed it knew what he was doing. He built most of this furniture, too." He gathered up a stack of papers from the wide chair in front of the fireplace and added, "Have a seat."

Marisa sat down.

"Do you want a drink? Coffee or tea?"

Marisa shook her head.

He clapped his hands together. "Well, I'm running out of small talk. How about those Dolphins?"

Marisa smiled thinly.

He came and sat next to her. "What is it?" he said.

Marisa looked at him, so handsome, so desirable, his face alive with intelligence and concern. With a sound like a sob she flung her arms around his neck.

"Hey, hey," he said gently, his arms coming around her immediately. "Take it easy. I'm not forcing anything on you. I'll take you back to the hotel right now if..."

"I do want you, I do," she whispered fiercely, interrupting him. "So much."

"You got me, babe. Here I am."

Marisa drew back and fingered the cabling around the neck of his sweater.

"There's something you have to know," she said slowly.

"I think I already know," he replied.

Marisa stared at him.

"I know that you're a... beginner."

"Beginner?" Marisa said slowly.

"With men."

Marisa closed her eyes as the blood rushed into her face. "Has it been that obvious?" she said in an agonized whisper, finding that possibility unbearable.

"Of course not. In fact I thought just the opposite until Tracy told me."

"I'll kill her," Marisa said, not opening her eyes.

"Don't feel that way. She did us both a favor."

Marisa still couldn't look at him.

"I was about to give up on you," he said earnestly. "She made your behavior understandable and gave me some hope, don't you see that?" He tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear and her lashes lifted.

"You must have been laughing at me all this while," she said miserably.

He pulled her back into his arms. "Sweetheart, no. I admit that at first I could hardly believe it."

"Thanks a lot."

"But when I had time to think about it, some of the things you had done became..."

"Less idiotic?" she supplied.

"More reasonable."

"I'm surprised you didn't run screaming for the trees."

"Why would I do that? It just convinced me that what I had suspected from the beginning was true."

"That I'm stunted?"

"That you're a very special person."

"Oh, Jack." She hugged him tighter, and when he turned his head and kissed her she responded with all her heart.

Jack slipped his arm under her legs and lifted her bodily onto the loveseat, so that she was lying across his lap. Her mouth opened under his and she tasted his tongue as he kissed her deeply. She ran her hands down his back, slipping them under his sweater to touch his bare skin. Jack groaned and pressed her down into the cushions as she sank her fingers into the thick, blade straight hair at the back of his neck. His lips traveled to her throat and he pushed her collar aside impatiently. His hand fumbled with the b.u.t.tons on her blouse and he muttered an oath.

"What?" she said.

"I can't do this, I'm shaking," he said, exasperated.

"Oh, look at your poor hand," Marisa said, sitting up and seizing it. "Shouldn't we put some ice on that?"

"Now? Are you kidding?" he said, staring at her.

"That's the second injury you've suffered because of me," Marisa mourned, kissing the abraded knuckles.

"Forget it," he said. "Let's do it this way." He yanked the loosened blouse out of her skirt band and pulled it over her head. In almost the same motion he doffed his sweater and swept her back into his arms.