His truck still smelled like Mary Jane's perfume. Despite the rain, Cassie cracked open her window, then leaned against the seat back. She closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep for the duration of the short ride home.

Cassie awoke to the feel of Sam touching her cheek. She opened her eyes as he helped her slide her soggy bottom off the seat. He closed the door, but Cassie didn't move forward. She remained where she was, groggy and light-headed but feeling that rare feeling that all was right with her world. The wet grass tickled the exposed part of her foot in the high-heeled sandals, but still she remained rooted to the spot.

Flashes of light echoed in the sky as the trees dropped their watery burden onto the already sodden ground. All around them in the hushed night the water dripped, a heady background beat to the resumed chorus of the crickets. Steam rose off the gravel drive, floating like apparitions in the glare of the porch light.

Cassie stared at the way Sam's rain-soaked hair fell over his face. She lifted her hand and pushed it back, her fingers reluctant to leave the smooth skin of his forehead. The backs of her fingers swept over the bristles on his cheek, then slid along his jawbone.

His hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled it away.

Embarrassed, she said, "I'm sorry." Her words stumbled and tossed against each other, making her feel like an awkward teenager. "I'm . . . I'm sorry for getting sick. I should have known better about that kudzu punch. I mean, it's not like I've never been to a fraternity party." She attempted a smile.

He stood so close, she could feel his heat. She almost expected to see the steam rise from his shirt. She should step back.

"We all make mistakes." There was no smile in his voice, and his jaw seemed to tighten with tension.

She should go inside now. "Some mistakes are more permanent than others."

His eyes brightened in the dim light. "Nothing's permanent, Cassie. Things change."

The sky exploded with light, illuminating Sam, the house, the truck, this place. It made things so clear for a moment, as if she were staring at a Polaroid picture. His head bent closer to hers, and she closed her eyes, swaying in his direction. A rippling wave of thunder rent the sky, but he made no move to kiss her. She forced her eyes open and found herself staring into probing blue eyes. She placed both hands behind his neck and pulled him forward, closing the gap between them.

His lips were warm, soft, responsive, making her knees soften like butter in a frying pan. His hand fell to her waist as the fingers of his other hand crept through her hair at the base of her skull, cradling her head. The move was so unexpected, so different, she almost pulled back. It made her feel . . . cherished.

Rain pelted down now with renewed force. Cassie opened her mouth, tasting warm rain and skin. She sucked on his lower lip until he took control and opened his mouth, touching her tongue with his.

Light flashed under her eyelids, but it wasn't the lightning. Burnt ions from the electrified air popped and fizzled between them, creating a storm of its own deep inside her. He moved her against the truck, and she welcomed the solid feel of him against her, his need pressed against her hip.

The rain beat steadily on them, dripping down her neck and beneath her blouse, thudding gently on the hood of the truck. Her hands clutched the back of his shirt, and she pulled on it, releasing the shirttails.

He pulled back, and she found herself gasping for air. He didn't say anything, but stood staring at her, rivulets of water running down his face.

Cassie blinked the rain out of her eyes.

His chest rose and fell as his gaze dropped to the ground. The rain plopped and splashed on the wet gravel between them.

He shook his head before looking back at her. "Do you want me to come inside?"

She swallowed thickly, wondering why her New York cool had sud-denly deserted her. In a small voice she said, "Sure."

Sam reached behind him and began tucking in his shirt. "No."

She stared at him, growing humiliation quickly extinguishing the fire in her blood. "No?" She swallowed again. "You practically toss me over the hood of your truck to ravage me and then you just stop cold?"

She knew she was being unreasonable, but humiliation was never a feeling she could take lying down.

Sam merely raised an eyebrow, then turned to rest his hands against the truck, trapping Cassie neatly between them. "Believe me. It's not because I don't want to." He reached down and adjusted his jeans, as if emphasizing the truth of his words.

Cassie ducked under his arms to escape him, her feet squelching in the mud as she made her way to the porch steps.

"I want more from you than a one-night stand, Cassie. It's all or nothing with me."

She pulled open the door. "Better get used to that nothing part, then, Sam Parker." Stepping inside, she was about to shut the door when she heard him laughing.

"Ravage, huh? I don't think I've ever heard anybody use that word in a sentence before. That's too funny. You haven't changed a bit."

She slammed the door and leaned against it, a small smile forcing itself on her face. She wanted to be mad at him, and she had every right to feel humiliated. But somehow she didn't. He'd acted like, well, like a gentleman. So different from most of the men she knew. So different from Andrew.

Andrew. The keys fell from her hand, falling with a thunk on the wood floor. Oh, Lord-she hadn't even thought about her fiance since their disagreeable phone call that morning. Out of sight, out of mind, indeed. She wore the man's ring on her finger, yet she'd been pawing at the body of the first available candidate. She was humiliated, all right, alcohol or not. And it was all her doing.

Slipping out of her shoes, she ran up the stairs as fast as she could to call Andrew. He needed to come down to Walton for a visit. As soon as possible.

Twelve.

Cassie stared at the ceiling in her bedroom, the flashes of lightning creating odd shadows on the plaster. She turned on her side and listened to the steady fall of rain, a sound she usually found sleep-inducing. But not tonight.

Finally, she dragged herself out of bed, threw on her robe, and went downstairs, hoping a midnight snack might help her sleep. She was surprised to see a light under Aunt Lucinda's bedroom door. Without hesitating, she knocked.

"Come in."

Aunt Lucinda sat propped in a chaise longue in the corner of the room, her feet resting on a pink chiffon pillow. Each toe shone with crimson brilliance, the smell of fresh nail polish hovering about the bedroom. A fluffy cotton ball was wadded between each digit like a punctuation mark. Pink bristly curlers covered her head, and Cassie would have laughed if it weren't for the tears glistening on Lucinda's cheek.

Cassie stood on the threshold. "What's wrong, Aunt Lu? Do you want me to leave?"

Lucinda shook her head. "Oh, no, honey. I was just finishing up one of Miss Lena's books. Those happy endings always make me cry." She moved her feet and patted the chaise. "Come sit, sweetie, and tell me what's wrong."

Cassie did as she was told. "Nothing's wrong. I just couldn't sleep."

Lucinda bent over and started removing the cotton balls. "Who were you talking to on the phone?"

"Sorry-didn't know I was talking so loud. That was Andrew. I had to convince him that he needed to come down here."

Her aunt clapped her hands together. "Why, that's wonderful. I'll tell Harriet, and we can get those bridal-shower invitations out. We'll make it one of those couples showers-maybe an outdoor barbecue. Let him meet the whole town."

"Like a sort of 'Donald Trump Meets the Clampets.' Yeah, sounds like fun." She had meant it to be a flippant comment but realized too late how it must have sounded to her aunt.

Lucinda used one of those looks Cassie remembered from childhood, the one reserved for times when she was due a spanking but managed to elude her aunt's grasp.

"There's no need to be scared, Cassie. We'll behave ourselves."

Cassie's eyes widened. "Scared? Why would I be scared?"

"Well, you're acting mean, and that's always meant just one thing. But, sugar, if this is the man you're going to marry, you've got to let him meet us sometime. You can't go hidin' us forever."

"I wasn't trying to hide you." Cassie looked down in her lap, wondering whom she was trying to hide from whom. She stood. "He says he'll be here a week from Friday. He doesn't know what flight he'll be on, so he'll call from the airport to let us know when to pick him up. That's probably not enough time for Harriet to organize a shower."

Lucinda adjusted one of the curlers that had drooped precariously over her forehead. "Nonsense. She's already got it half-planned already. Even has the invitations addressed. Just didn't know the date or time. I guess we do now!"

Cassie leaned against the dressing table, her arms folded over her chest. "Wonderful."

Lucinda sent Cassie that look again but didn't say anything. She took out a file and began filing her fingernails. "I think we should both help her out. Harriet just hasn't been herself lately. She's so tired all the time. And did you notice how pale she looks?"

"I just figured that's what a mother of five should look like. She's probably exhausted. Sure, I'll help. Maybe I can work on damage control. You know, warn everybody on the invitations about making 'damn Yankee' remarks."

"Cassie, honey, what are you so afraid of? That he'll be so appalled by all of us that he won't want to marry you? Because if that's the type of person he is, maybe you shouldn't be marrying him, anyway."

Cassie sent her aunt a sharp look, but Lucinda was studiously filing her thumbnail. "It's not that. It's just that Andrew is so . . . different from everybody here. I'm afraid he'll feel out of place."

Lucinda smiled. "Honey, we all have something in common; we love you. And if he loves you like we do, then he'll fit right in."

Cassie pushed away from the dresser. "Yeah, well. I guess I should turn in. You've always told me to make sure I got my beauty sleep." She paused for a minute. "Aunt Lu?"

The older woman looked up, her thin eyebrows raised expectantly. "Yes, pumpkin?"

"Do you remember any of daddy's old girlfriends-girls he met before Mama?"

Lucinda thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I really don't. But remember, I was living in Mobile back then, so I really wouldn't know." She smiled softly. "The first woman I ever remember him mentioning in a letter was your mama, though. That's when I knew he was really in love." She bent back to her filing. "Why are you asking?"

Cassie pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment before deciding that trespassing into her father's life had gone far enough without sharing the letters with his sister. "No reason. Just curious, I guess."

Lucinda sniffed, the file stilling against her thumbnail. "I miss him so much. I wasn't . . . ready . . . for him to go yet. It's hard losing a sibling. It's like losing a part of my past."

Blinking back her own tears, Cassie gave her aunt a hug. "I know. I miss him, too." Kissing her on the cheek, she said softly, "Good night, Aunt Lu."

The older woman didn't look up. "Good night, honey." When Cassie reached the door, Lucinda sniffed loudly, then said, "Was that Sam Parker's truck bringin' you home tonight?"

Cassie's face colored, wondering how much her aunt had seen. She tried to sound nonchalant. "Um, yes. It was. We couldn't find Ed to bring me home. . . ."

"He's a real nice boy. And so good-lookin'."

Cassie tried to look nonchalant. "You mean Ed?"

Aunt Lu lowered her head, raising her eyebrows and piercing Cassie with a look that said she wasn't fooled. "No. That's not who I meant. I was talkin' about that delectable Dr. Parker."

Cassie sent her a sidelong glance, but Lucinda had returned to her nails. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Uh-huh. Sugar, would you mind bringing over my Brunswick stew to Miss Lena tomorrow? It's my turn to bring her supper and visit for a spell, but Harriet's so tired, I thought I might just spend the day with her and help her out with the kids and the party plannin'." She handed her the book she had just put down. "Would you please bring this back to her, too? Be careful, though. She might want to discuss it with you. And you, being a single lady, wouldn't have any idea about some of the stuff that goes on in those books."

Cassie colored again, realizing she had probably blushed more in the last few days than she had in fifteen years. "Sure, I'll do it first thing." She took the book, said good night again, and left the room.

The storm continued through the night and into the morning. Cassie stood on the front porch, balancing the stew pot with one arm while she wrestled the umbrella with her other hand. A car door shut, and she glanced up just in time to see Sam's dog, George, bounding toward her. Sam caught the pot just in time as Cassie moved the umbrella between her and the large animal.

"Afraid he's going to ravage you?"

Cassie heard the smile in his voice, but she refused to smile back. "Could you call off your dog, please?"

The animal lay down on top of Cassie's feet, exposing his underbelly.

"He likes you. He wants you to scratch him."

Cassie was about to step over the animal, but something soft and sweet in the dog's expression made her pause. It reminded her of her father's faithful companion, Hunter. Her earliest memories included the mixed-breed bloodhound: memories of her pulling on his tail and putting Harriet on his back to carry like a horse. Hunter had died after she left home, and looking at George's face, she suddenly missed him terribly.

She bent down and rubbed the sable hair on George's belly, the fur soft and damp from the rain. The dog went limp in an attitude of supreme satisfaction, making Cassie grin.

"Why are you darkening my doorstep, Dr. Parker? Anybody sick that I should know about?"

"Lucinda called me last night and asked me to drive you to Miss Lena's, seeing as how I needed to visit her today, anyway."

Cassie raised an eyebrow, wondering what Lucinda had really been thinking, especially to call the doctor so late at night. She wished for Lucinda's pink car. Anything would have been preferable to being in close proximity to Sam Parker. But Lucinda and her car had already left for Harriet's. It was either Sam and his truck or a walk in the pelting rain with a stew pot and an umbrella balanced precariously in her arms.

"I'm only going to say yes because I don't want to dump Brunswick stew all over Madison Lane. And because I need to get out of the house. Ed's bringing a couple by today to look at it, and I'd rather not be here."

"Let's go, then." As George raced to the back of the truck and leaped in, Sam took the umbrella from Cassie and held it over their heads. Sending her a warm look, he said, "Unless you're afraid that I'm going to try and ravage you again."

She wished she had her hands free to throttle him. "Look. About last night . . ." She paused, hoping Sam would wave a dismissive hand in the air and relieve her of the need to continue. Instead, he looked at her expectantly.

She found she couldn't look directly into his eyes. "I . . . I must have had too much of that kudzu punch. I wasn't in my right mind, and I apologize for acting like that."

"Like what?" Sam opened her door and took the stew pot from her while she settled herself inside.

Cassie studied the dash in front of her. "Like a sex-starved maniac. I'm not like that at all."

Sam leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. "I never thought you were. Besides, I'm not complaining." The door closed with a solid thunk.

When Sam drove his truck to the end of the drive in front of the property, Cassie noticed that the For Sale sign in front of the house was lying prone on the ground, conspicuous tire tracks marring the red-and-white logo of Farrell Realty.

"Stop!" she yelled.

She dumped the stew pot in Sam's lap and clambered out of the truck and into the teeming rain. She ignored the squelching sound of the clinging mud that sucked at her shoes as she stomped over to the sign and righted it.

After hoisting herself into the truck again, she glared at Sam as she took back the pot. "That was pretty juvenile. How about next time you just hang a bucket of water over the front door?"

Sam put the truck into gear. "Or maybe I'll just attach inflated condoms to the sign."

Cassie coughed to stifle her laughter, then turned her head toward the window so he couldn't see her broad grin.

Leaning an elbow on the doorjamb, Sam glanced over at Cassie. "Have you made any headway yet on finding your missing sibling?"

"Nope. But I put a classified ad in the Sentinel's Sunday edition. It's pretty discreet, not mentioning any names or anything-just asking anybody who was born and adopted around April 1963 to give me a call. Didn't mention my name, either, and I used my cell-phone number just in case anybody got too nosy." She sighed, slapping her hands on her thighs. "Well, it's a start, anyway. I'd like to think I can do this on my own. I mean, if whoever it is is hiding so well, then he or she doesn't want to be found. I might just have to leave it at that."