"Are you saying I should hire you?"

"Good Lord, no. I wasn't talking about money. I was thinking more of ... a trade. I do something for you, you do something for me."

Rachel felt herself flush red with fury. "Let me guess. You want me to stay away from Ethan?" she asked calmly.

"Forever," Julie hissed, suddenly so cold and vicious it made Rachel start. "I don't ever want you to come near him or contact him again as long as you live."

Rachel had to swallow hard in the face of this blatant rage. Icily she said, "What if he contacts me first?"

Julie flicked her hand as if swatting a fly. "Then you send him away. You work as a waitress in a dump of a diner; you know how to give men the brush-off."

Rachel's rage swelled to a degree she'd seldom experienced. Through clenched teeth she said, "And what kind of guarantee do you give me that you'll genuinely try to help?"

Julie leaned back, smug and triumphant. "That would be my promise. You and I may not like each other, but ask around: I keep my word. You stay away from Ethan, and I find out the truth about Kyle Stillwater."

Rachel wanted to scream, as the name had its usual effect. "Fine," she said tightly.

Julie turned back to her computer screen. "Then you can go. We have nothing else to discuss."

Rachel got to her feet and turned to leave, then paused. "I'll be in touch, you know. A lot."

"Oh, you can call me whenever you want," Julie said, already typing. "Just remember your promise. Stay away from Ethan Walker."

Rachel strode away. If she looked back and the bitch was smiling, she'd have to knock those perfect white teeth down her pale, slender throat.

JULIE WATCHED RACHEL leave. The woman was attractive, in a hippie sort of way, and she could imagine Ethan's desire to get his hands on that tight ass. Certainly he'd once had a hard time keeping them off her own, which she kept as firm as a high school senior's. And now that he'd overcome the performance issues caused by his stint in Iraq, she looked forward with renewed excitement to behaving like a cat in heat for him. He was strong enough, physically and otherwise, to make her do things she normally wouldn't consider, and she loved it when he gave in to that impulse to dominate her.

She picked up the phone and dialed his office. She wanted to strike while the iron of Rachel's promise was hot. She got his voice mail, but that was okay. This was the campaign's opening salvo, not its final battle.

"Ethan?" she said in her sweetest voice, careful not to lay it on too thick. "It's Julie. Oh, but I guess you know that. Anyway, I ... Oh, hell, I just wanted to see you and talk to you. Why don't we meet for dinner tonight? Call me back and let me know. Oh, and you can tell me to go to hell again if you want, but really, I just miss spending time with you. I miss your company. That's all."

She hung up quickly before she tipped her hand. She was good at faking sincerity, and this wasn't even all faking. She did want to see him.

Ethan would do one of two things. He would call her back when he was sure he'd get her voice mail and tell her to leave him alone, or he'd grudgingly accept. Either response was fine, actually. What she mainly wanted to do was provoke him into calling Rachel, so that the little diner whore could break his heart. Then Julie could swoop in with the dustpan and the super-glue, and put it back together again her way.

But she hadn't lied when she said her word was honorable. The mystery of Kyle Stillwater, and the memory of his delectable body emerging from the lake, did actually intrigue her, so it wasn't a hard promise to keep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

WHEN RACHEL GOT back to the diner she was twitchy and damp, and her clothing felt unbearable. She walked past the folks at the counter, completely missing Helena's wave from across the dining room. Instead, she climbed the stairs to her apartment, stripped naked, and flopped on her bed.

She was not aroused in any normal way; it was more like being stuck on a low-wattage setting where her body tingled and pulsed but never developed into any full-blown feelings. It was more upsetting, really, than being simply turned on with no outlet.

Worse, she felt she'd betrayed something fundamental about herself in her deal with Julie Schutes. Before, there had been hope that perhaps she and Ethan would again be together. Now she'd killed even that.

But that was the least of her problems, she thought, as she put her feet flat on the bed and idly rubbed her hands up and down her raised thighs. She had to help Becky. She had to help her lake spirits. And she had to survive whatever this feeling was that threatened to overwhelm her.

Tainter emerged from under the bed with a confused yowl. He jumped up on the covers beside her, then backed slowly away. He did not hiss, but clearly there was some change in his mistress, of which he did not approve.

Rachel took slow, measured breaths, trying to slow her skittery heartbeat. She flexed her fingers and toes, stretching them tight to give the energy somewhere to go. She had too much to do, too many responsibilities, to endure this right now. But her hands rose, almost of their own volition, to her breasts and squeezed them. Her nipples, already tight, seemed to tighten even more.

Slowly her back arched and her knees drew up. She squeezed her thighs together, sending demanding tingles up from the area where they met. In her mind, she saw Ethan above her-the muscles of his bare shoulders working as he rose, then fell, rose, then fell-his face drawn tight with the effort to reach his own completion....

She sat up at the firm knock on the door.

JULIE SCHUTES PICKED her way around the back of Kyle Stillwater's apartment building and peered through the patio door. No lights were on inside, and from the detritus of fast food and soda cans, it was obvious that no one had cleaned it for a while. She was still looking when a voice said, "Looking for Kyle?"

She turned. An elderly black man in a robe and slippers stood on the patio next door. His creased face was unreadable, but his eyes were suspicious.

Julie smiled. "If he's the actor Kyle Stillwater, then yes."

"He is. Are you a cop?"

"No, I'm a reporter. Julie Schutes, with the Cap Jo. And you are-"

The man sipped his coffee and said at last, "A neighbor."

"Have you seen Kyle lately?"

"You asking about that thing at the park?"

"Yes. I'd like to talk with him about it."

"Wasn't him. It was some guy using his name. The cops already cleared that up."

"I just want to ask him what he thinks about it."

He shrugged. "Too bad for you, then. People in hell want ice water too."

Julie kept the smile. "Does he live here by himself?"

"Far as I know. His last girlfriend moved out a month ago. Got tired of cleaning up after him."

She held out a card. "I left one of these in his mail slot, but could you pass this to him if you see him?"

The man looked at the card, then at Julie, then back at the card. "You for real, then, huh?"

"I am."

"I'm going to tell you something, then. You don't quote me on it, understand? But I'm going to tell you."

"Okay."

"There's something wrong with that boy. He walked out of here in the middle of the night with a long white wig on. Like the news says that fella at the park wore."

"So it was him, then?"

"I don't know. About half the time lately he ain't been himself. I think he might be on drugs or something."

Julie nodded encouragingly. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Naw. He said for a swim. And that he wasn't coming back."

Julie felt a chill. "Was he suicidal?"

"Seemed happy as a clam."

"Listen, please, if he does come back, please let me know. Maybe I can help." Which was a lie, but if it got her a story, it served its purpose.

THERE WAS ANOTHER firm knock at the door. Hard, firm, Rachel repeated in her head. Ethan?

"Hey, Rache?" Helena's voice called. "Are you all right?"

Rachel swallowed and got unsteadily to her feet. Her knees were weak, and her belly fluttered. She let Helena in and closed the door behind her.

It took a moment for Helena's wide-eyed expression to register. Rachel said, "What?"

"Um," Helena said, and gestured in her direction. "Your fly is open."

Rachel looked down at herself and softly laughed. She should have been embarrassed standing there stark naked, but instead it seemed like nothing to be concerned about. She had nothing Helena didn't also have, and they'd been like sisters for years. "Yeah," she muttered. "Just felt a little ... overheated. Needed to cool off."

Helena continued to stare. At last she said, "That tattoo removal is impressive. I mean, your skin's not even red."

Rachel flushed. "I've always been a quick healer; you know that."

"Yeah. Well, anyway, someone left this for you." Helena held out a manila envelope with the name "Rachel" scrawled on it in big letters.

Rachel tossed the envelope on the couch without looking at it. "I guess I should come downstairs and help, huh?"

Helena continued to stare. "Not like that."

Rachel looked down at herself, and shame suddenly penetrated her hazy thoughts. She covered her breasts with her arms. What was she doing? "I'm sorry, I was about to take a quick shower," she said. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"I can see that," Helena said. She looked everywhere but directly at Rachel. "I'll just ... go, then." She left quickly, and her footsteps pattered rapidly down the stairs.

Rachel shook her head. What the hell? Helena was her best friend, but she was also gay, and this little scene could've easily been taken the wrong way. Yet the burning embarrassment left almost as soon as it started, and the heavy, heated sense of her own arousal returned. She rather calmly thought, Why not? We're adults, we're already friends....

As if he could read her thoughts, Tainter hissed from the bedroom doorway.

She slapped herself hard. Stop it! The fog in her brain cleared, and she quickly dressed for work.

AT THE BOTTOM of the stairs, Helena paused before going back into the diner. She took a few deep breaths and tried a mental calming exercise she'd learned at a seminar.

She'd seen Rachel nude before but never like that. It was as if, after all these years of friendship, Rachel was suddenly daring Helena to think of her sexually. It hadn't worked-and never would, Helena thought ironically-but it had rattled her. Rachel's ex-husband, Don, claimed Rachel had mental problems. Was he right after all? Had the whole Arlin Korbus thing brought them to the surface?

Helena looked back up the stairs toward the closed apartment door. She'd been so startled that she hadn't mentioned Ethan's visit, and she wasn't about to go back up there now. Maybe it was for the best. Ethan was a normal, decent guy who probably didn't deserve a crazy girlfriend.

And do I deserve a crazy best friend? Helena thought. But she had no answer.

"SO WHAT WAS in that envelope?" Roya asked later, as she and Rachel wiped down a table. She'd replaced Clara for the end of the shift so Clara could register for a fall class. Now they were cleaning the unoccupied areas to prepare for closing while Helena attended to the three remaining patrons.

"Mm?" Rachel said. "Oh ... You know, I didn't even look. Did you see who left it?"

"No, I wasn't here then. Helena might know."

Rachel nodded and continued writing the next day's lunch special on the dry-erase wall. She caught Helena looking oddly at her from across the diner, but she turned away before Rachel could comment on it.

"I heard about your sister," Roya said quietly. "I'm very sorry. If there's anything I can do ..."

Rachel smiled and shook her head. "Thanks. She didn't do it, so I'm sure it'll work out."

"I grew up in Milwaukee," Roya said. "I'm not prone to trust the police or the justice system."

"She'll also be getting a good lawyer."

"That's a start." Roya patted her on the shoulder, trying to show support across racial, economic, and generational divides. It was an awkward but heartfelt gesture.

Rachel's eyes fell on the counter stool at the end, where she'd first seen Ethan Walker. He'd come in at Marty's suggestion, ostensibly to try the breakfast menu. Instead he'd gotten in a confrontation with Caleb, a former regular who'd insisted on smoking despite the ordinance against it.

Rachel remembered the way his blue shirt had offset his eyes, his unruly bangs falling down on his forehead. Her body shuddered with desire as that thought led to the memory of clinging to him in the lake, his hard maleness inside her, firm and steady as she thrust back and forth. She had never had an orgasm with a man inside her before, and it was awe-inspiring, and terrifying, and wonderful, and ...

"Rachel?" Helena said urgently.

Rachel blinked. Helena and Roya, along with regular Josh Charles and another male customer she didn't know, formed a circle of faces that looked down at her. She felt the cool tile on her legs below her shorts and realized that she lay on the floor.

She sat up, and they all reached down to help. "Should we call 911?" Roya asked. "You banged your head pretty good when you hit the ground."

"No, I'm fine," Rachel said. She tried to stand and was nearly knocked down again by everyone trying to aid her. She snapped, "Jeez, people, give me a little room here!"

She got to her feet and sat at the counter. She felt stranger than ever, as if a great emptiness had opened inside her belly, the edges fluttering and hypersensitive. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.

When she turned, all eyes were still on her. It was so comical she almost laughed. But she controlled herself and said, "I'm going upstairs to lie down for a while. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Take as much time as you need," Helena said. "Roya and I can handle things."

AS SOON AS she closed her apartment door, Rachel whipped off her apron and stripped out of her clothes again. She stood with her hands on the wall, looking down at her bare feet, trying to get her thoughts in order.

And as always, Ethan Walker appeared in her mind's eye. She imagined watching the top of his head, hair sweaty and tousled, as his tongue worked its magic on her. She could see down the length of his bare back to the firmness of his buttocks as he buried his face in her. His moans, transmitted by his lips, rippled against her own nether region.

She screamed in utter, complete frustration and pounded her fists into the wall. Not this. Please, not this. Not a lifetime of wanting and never having.