Debra had left a thick yellow towel and washcloth on the wooden rocking chair. Also an unopened toothbrush and a new tube of toothpaste. Fresh flowers on the dresser. A dish of candy and a couple of romance novels on the nightstand. One a Dani Gwynne, the other a Kelly Kerwin.

Such small things, but each one said, "You're our guest." We want you to be comfortable while you're here.

She couldn't remember ever being a guest. She felt like an alien who'd wandered out of her galaxy. Company manners, baby, she could almost hear her former Junior League mama say, her voice a drunken slur.

Did she even remember what company manners were? Their family standards, and social position, had been sliding long before Montgomery Justice appeared on the horizon.

She pushed her covers back and slid out of bed, her feet settling on a rag rug put there to protect bare feet from the chill of hardwood floors. When she stood up, she noticed a suitcase sitting on a small chest. Inside were clothes from her house, her life as Phoebe. Jake must have arranged for them.

Her chest felt tight and kind of hurt, where there'd been no feeling at all for so long. She rubbed her chest, but it still hurt. A lump formed in her throat and tried to turn into...tears?

No way. She didn't cry. Sure as shooting, she was not going down those stairs and facing Jake and his family with red eyes. She would not use tears to sue for pity or acceptance.

She'd go down looking'she picked up a pair of shorts'like a bar slut. There was nothing in the case, or in Phoebe's life, that went with this house. Nothing in either even remotely normal. Maybe she'd just stay upstairs.

She dropped the shorts. Who was she trying to fool anyway? A change of clothes wouldn't make her any less a thief, wouldn't change what she was or what she'd done. It sure as hell wouldn't bridge the space and time that separated her from Jake. She should have stayed in jail. At least there she could see the bars, knew her place and what to expect.

There were two windows in this corner guestroom-no bars, but there might as well have been. Her past still had her trapped, cornered. She abandoned the suitcase for a window, choosing the one looking out on the backyard.

A mature garden occupied one corner, its formerly neat rows overrun by nature's abundance. Flowers circled the fence with cheerful abandon, and a tall cottonwood provided shade for a cozy wooden deck. Among the leaves of the cottonwood, she could see the weathered remnants of a tree house. It wasn't hard to imagine this yard peopled with small boys, two dark, one light. Or Jake's son...

Don't go there.

She heard a car door slam and turned to the other window. It gave her a glimpse of a small piece of the street. Enough to see Matt and Luke emerge from a car with a woman she presumed was Matt's wife, the romance writer. Phoebe liked the look of her. She was what her mama used to call a lady. Kind face, nice smile. Matt wore a thunder cloud face. Luke looked more worried, than angry.

She had a good idea what had put those looks on their faces, even before pieces of what they were saying made it as far as her ears.

"...Can't believe...that stupid..."

"Maybe...not as bad...it sounds..."

The slamming of the front door cut off their words. Apparently they'd found out their little brother had brought a thief home to dinner.

It's not as if she hadn't known she wouldn't be welcome here. Because she had. She knew what she was. Just because the room was welcoming didn't mean the people were.

She looked at the suitcase.

Live it all the way, or don't live it at all.

Jake heard his brothers' voices downstairs before the shower went on in Phoebe's bedroom and drowned them out. He thought about the first time he'd waited for her to shower. The things he'd thought. The things he'd done. The moves and counter-moves that had brought them to...his mom's.

Dani had been right. He'd done his job, and love was finding a way. Unless his brothers screwed things up for him, which it sounded like they planned to.

He tossed his wet towel and pulled on skivs, then jeans. Better go down and calm his brothers before Phoebe made an appearance. He just wished he'd had a chance to talk to mom alone before they got here. He wasn't sure how she felt about the situation.

He padded downstairs without bothering with shoes, his hand gliding down the banister the way his butt used to. He lived in DC, but this was home. The shower went off over his head. She'd reach for the towel to capture and contain the water sliding down her bare skin...

"Jake?" A voice splintered his hot thoughts with a dash of Mom. "Is that you?"

Time to face the music.

"Can you leave us alone, Mom?" Matt asked, grimly. "And you, too, Dani."

Or the firing squad.

Inside the kitchen, he found Matt looking like a storm over Long's Peak. Luke, in keeping with his more easygoing nature, just looked worried. Dani and his mom were facing Matt down with crossed arms.

"This is my kitchen, my house," Debra told her son.

"I'm not leaving, either," Dani said. "Unless Jake wants me to."

Matt's angry turned sulky until he caught sight of his little brother.

Jake mentally planted his feet. It was harder here, on home turf, where instead of being a Deputy US Marshal, he was his mother's son and Matt and Luke's little brother. Not fair, but life wasn't.

"Don't start, Matt," he warned.

"We're all adults here. Why don't we sit down and talk this over?" Peacemaker Luke set the example by sitting down.

No one followed his lead.

"This is between me, Mom and Phoebe. It's not your business, though I appreciate your coming, Dani."

Matt's hands curled into fists. If Jake hadn't been so pissed, he'd have grinned when Dani grabbed hold of Matt's arm and nestled against her husband's side.

"Not my business? You bring a common thief-"

Jake started toward him but found Luke in his way. "That-"

"-Is insulting, Deputy," Phoebe said.

It should have been funny, the way his family froze, then turned toward her in varying degrees of discomfort. But it wasn't. He loved her, and his brother was hurting her.

Not that she looked hurt. She leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed, her expression...hard to read. Her eyelids drooped lazily and her smile was...enigmatic. Her clothes were-whoa-definitely in the kick-ass range.

Her brief blue-jean shorts left little leg to the imagination and rode low on her hips. Her equally brief top rode high and snug around her breasts, leaving a lot of midriff bare. An electric-blue ruffle framed her cleavage, then did Daisy Mae off-the-shoulder. Her hair was wet and wild, her lips lush and red.

"I'll have you know," she continued, her voice pure Southern Belle, rich and sultry, "I'm a very uncommon thief. The stories I could tell you, if Calvin'that's my lawyer-hadn't advised me to exercise my right to remain silent."

Jake was vaguely aware Luke had dropped back in his chair something the air had been let out of. Phoebe straightened and sauntered toward the refrigerator, her hip action lighting a wildfire in Jake's gut. Lucky for him his mom wasn't looking at him. No one was.

"You'll just have to take my word for it that the family silver is in no danger." She touched the refrigerator like it was her lover, then looked at Jake's mom. "May I, ma'am? I'm powerful thirsty."

Debra nodded, her eyes wide, but a smile was tugging at the edges of her mouth.

Phoebe opened the door, then bent from the waist, her tightly covered ass almost in Luke's face. When she straightened, Jake realized he'd been holding his breath and expelled it in a rush. Luke looked dazed and, well, awed. Like he'd just had a religious experience.

She popped the top of the Diet Coke she'd snagged and drank, tipping her head back so that they got an unobstructed view of the long, smooth sweep of her soft curves and satiny skin, still glistening with moisture from her recent shower. When she was done, she licked her lips real slow, then, even more slowly, dug into her pocket and produced a dollar bill that she tossed on the table in front of Matt.