"Like her father was."

Caitlin watched, fascinated, as Lily continued to chant and draw, the colorful powders raining from her nimble fingers.

If Lily was aware of their presence, she made no sign until she was

finished.

Something within the chanting sound spoke to Caitlin and comforted her.

She had no idea how long she stood there, observing.

Finally it was done.

Lily lightly dusted her hands one against the other and stepped away

from the sand painting.

Only then did she turn and raise her eyes to Caitlin's.

Was she supposed to be here?

Would the woman become angry because she had watched?

Caitlin had a feeling that she wouldn't be.

That she was meant to see this.

"It's lovely," Caitlin told her.

Lily accepted her due.

"It is to ask the Holy People to bless your marriage and this house."

Having said that, she turned and walked into the house.

A sand painting.

To bless her marriage to Graham.

Caitlin drew closer to inspect it as Jake lingered patiently on the

side.

It seemed incredibly beautiful to her.

Sunshine burst through her veins as she looked at the boy.

"Does this mean your grandmother likes me?"

He shrugged.

"I think so. With Grandma, sometimes it's hard to tell."

With Your father, too, she thought as she took Jake's hand in hers and followed Lily into the house.

It had been a long day, especially since he'd had next to no sleep.

Graham had purposely lingered at the precinct, attempting to catch up

on his paperwork.

If it hadn't been there, he would have found another excuse not to go home.

He still hadn't had enough time to come to terms with what he'd done.

With the turn his life had taken.

He knew he should be happy.

Caitlin was right.

This was the solution he needed, the weapon that would enable him to

fight for what was his.

And win.

But he wasn't happy.

He wasn't happy at all.

He felt as if he were being tested.

And that he would be found lacking.

God, if it had been anyone but Caitlin .

But it was Caitlin and he was going to have to make his peace with

that.

When Graham finally returned home, it was past tent I hirty.

Caitlin's car was parked in the driveway.

Obviously she'd gotten someone to give her a ride to her house.

Kerry, probably.

Shutting off the engine, Graham sat in the driveway, wishing he was

somewhere else.

Or that Caitlin was.

He passed his hand over his face, then blew out a long breath.

It was late.

Maybe she was asleep.

If she was, he'd just stretch out on the sofa.

He'd planned to, anyway.

It would keep things simpler.

And keep him away from temptation.

Some warrior he would have made.

Afraid of a woman.

He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

No, it wasn't the woman he was afraid of.

It was himself, and what was inside-a need for her that was so huge, so

overwhelming, it frightened him.

Graham let himself in and walked through the house to the kitchen.

He was hot and tired.

The temperature outside was a cool ninety-nine degrees and he was

almost well-done.

It was a mystery to him how his ancestors could have lived out their days on the desert without migrating somewhere else. Reaching into the refrigerator, Graham took out a halffilled pitcher of lemonade and poured himself a tall glass.

Drinking, he turned and saw the light seeping out from beneath his mother's door.

She was still awake.

He thought of going to her, then changed his mind.

Whatever he had to say could wait until morning.

Maybe it would make more sense by then.

The next moment his mother's door opened.

She walked into the kitchen and he knew that she had been waiting for him.

"You are late."

He shrugged as he drained the rest of his drink.

couldn't be helped.

I had some things to take care of at the precinct.

It was an excuse.

Her son was running from something.