Intense curiosity overcame her good sense. The need to know what was going on overwhelmed her. "So you'll be at the courthouse."

Joseph nodded, then shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the desk, for the moment, postponing the inevitable. "d.a.m.n...I'm really dreading this."

"I can imagine," she muttered.

"I haven't said much to you about what happened the other day at Joey's day care, but it hasn't been because I don't trust you. It's because it scared the h.e.l.l out of me. I just couldn't bring myself to talk about it."

"Having to share parental responsibilities is probably difficult." She felt choked on the words as her deceit came home to roost.

"Share?" Joseph snorted. "If it hadn't been for me, there wouldn't have been a child at all."

Marjorie flushed. Well! The absolute gall! The last I heard, it definitely took two to make a baby.

"It could hardly have happened without her," Marjorie said primly.

Joseph grinned wryly, and then the smile disappeared. "That's not exactly what I meant. Yes...we made the baby.... Carly just didn't want to keep it. She planned an abortion without even considering my feelings. I talked her out of it with the promise that she'd have no responsibilities toward Joey again if she'd only carry him to full term."

She couldn't disguise the shock in her voice. "What are you saying? You can't mean she didn't want him?"

Joseph shrugged. "Hard to believe, isn't it? It was for me. Every day, every time I look at Joey, I think of how close I came to never knowing him." He frowned, then checked his watch. "I've got to hurry. I don't want to miss this hearing. There's no way Carly can be allowed to repeat this stunt again."

Marjorie could hardly ask, but something told her she must.

"I know it's none of my business, but exactly what did she do that was so awful...short of wanting to see the child, I mean?" She quickly added that last bit. In no way did she want her part in any of this known.

Joseph stopped at the doorway and turned. "She lied about who she was, pretended to be Molly, and simply walked away with my son, that's what."

"Oh!" Marjorie clasped her hand to her throat.

"See you later," Joseph said. "If I'm not back by five, just lock up. It'll mean I'm still in court."

She nodded. Speech was impossible. An awareness began to sink into Marjorie's consciousness. Something told her that there was a snake in the can of worms she'd opened when she'd sent that letter. The only problem was, she couldn't decide if she should stick that label on Carly Jordan or on herself.

Four hours and many tears later, Carly and Joseph walked out of the courtroom with their lawyers between them.

Joseph was disgusted but relieved, and didn't even acknowledge her existence as he shook hands with his lawyer and then walked away. Today was nothing more than a repeat of what he'd gone through when he'd gotten full and final custody of Joey to begin with, and no more than he should have expected.

The fact that at Joey's birth he'd had to officially adopt his own son because he and Carly Jordan weren't married had been one hurdle he'd overcome. The second hurdle had been that the courts couldn't quite get past the idea of a man capable of being a proper caretaker for a child, especially a child who was only days old. But to have to prove to a court that he loved Joey-when he'd been the only one who cared-had made him furious. Today was only a repeat of his frustration.

Carly's tearful pleas and promises had done exactly what she'd hoped. The judge had let her off with what he considered a stern warning about using other people's names under false pretenses, even though he understood her motives.

Joseph doubted that sincerely. Not even Carly understood what she was doing from one day to the next. And he still didn't believe she'd come out of motherly love. There had to be another reason. He just hoped to h.e.l.l that whatever it was, she solved it somewhere besides the state of Oklahoma.

He slid behind the wheel of his car and headed toward the day-care center. He'd had enough of courts and conniving women to last him a lifetime. All he wanted was to go home, spend a quiet evening with Joey, and consider himself lucky if Molly happened by.

Carly let her lawyer walk her to her car, smiling prettily up at him through a thick veil of tears, and then collapsed in his arms, sobbing heartily. Just when he'd begun to consider the consequences of personal involvement with a client, she pulled from his embrace, got into her car, waved, and drove away.

She was completely out of sight before he remembered she hadn't paid him the last half of his fee and that he had no permanent address for her.

He frowned and tried not to think that he might have been conned. It wouldn't do to let it get around that a lawyer had been had by one of his own clients.

Several blocks away, Carly smiled, tapping her freshly painted nails lightly on the steering wheel as she waited for the light to change. She was in a good mood. Everything had gone according to plan. Now if she would just hear from Enrique, she'd be out of here in a heartbeat and chalk all this up to bad judgment. Something had to happen soon. She had to be out of Marjorie's home before the first-of-the-month bills began to arrive. She didn't think Joseph's secretary would be as sympathetic toward her when the phone bill came. As usual, Carly had made good use of a free ride.

She drove by the post office, checking, as always, to see if any mail had been forwarded to her in this city. She tossed the handful of bills in a trash can near the front door of the post office and then stopped in mid-toss as a long, thin envelope hung suspended between her thumb and forefinger. It had no return address, but the postmark was unmistakable.

It had to be from Enrique! She slit the flap with one long nail, then began to read.

Chiquita...imagine my surprise...

In the beginning, she held her breath. Halfway down the page she began to smile. By the time she reached the end, she was dancing in a circle, ignoring the curious stares and grins from the people inside the post office.

"Yes!" she shouted, and bolted for the car, her earlier frustration and anger forgotten as she began to compose her story. There was a phone number to call, and a promise of things to come that actually made her blush. "Good things do come to those who wait."

It didn't occur to her to wonder if Enrique Salazar would simply be using her for his own best interests and satisfaction. It never crossed her mind to worry about the future. As always, Carly Jordan lived for herself and the moment.

Nine.

Carly paced the floor of her bedroom, afraid to come out and face Marjorie. After today, she could no longer pretend to be the injured party in this fiasco. She just had to figure out a way to postpone her eviction. After receiving Enrique's letter, his intentions concerning her were blatantly obvious. If there was one thing Carly was good at, it was recognizing opportunities. But making a grand exit at this point would be a trifle premature. All she needed was a little more time. And then she heard Marjorie coming down the hallway and frowned.

Oh d.a.m.n, the old b.i.t.c.h is back.

Just for good measure she decided to try a rather loud sniffle and a m.u.f.fled sob in the hopes that it would hold off the old girl-at least for the evening.

Marjorie paused outside the guest room door, imagining that she was witnessing the sounds of Carly's distress, and decided to give her the night to compose herself. But in the morning-that was another story. She'd been used and she knew it. Shaking her head, she walked away, wondering, again, how she'd ever let herself get involved in such a mess.

Carly paused in the middle of a sob, listening as the footsteps faded out of earshot, and smiled. It had worked. She dropped down into the middle of the bed and began filing her nails. If willing something to happen would make it so, then she should be out of here by the end of the week.

Molly paused in the act of emptying her dishwasher and stared at the calendar hanging near the phone. It had been years since she'd let herself remember this date. Although it wasn't snowing and sleeting as it had been all those years ago, it was still bitterly cold outside. Tears came without warning and she buried her face into her hands as she let herself think of the baby who'd died.

"Oh G.o.d, will this ever stop hurting?" she whispered, and tried to think of something else. But after knowing and loving Joey, it was impossible not to think of how much she'd missed when her own little girl had not survived.

She never saw a sunrise...or my face. I never heard her laugh...I never even heard her cry. Her presence in my life was so sweet...and too short.

Now, when she had so much to hope for, when another man's child had stolen her heart, she wondered if it would all come to nothing after all. The reappearance of Joey's natural mother had given her nightmares, and in spite of everything Joseph swore, she couldn't help remembering another woman with more claim to a man than she'd had. Joseph's call about the judge's decision had given them all cause to worry. Expecting Carly Jordan to wind up behind bars had been a little premature. Knowing that she was still out there-somewhere-seemed a persistent and ominous threat to everyone's peace of mind.

And while Molly didn't love Duncan anymore, and hadn't loved him since the day she'd learned of his deceit, the pain of rejection and the knowledge that she's been "the other woman" then, just as she was "the other woman" again was, in her mind, cause for great shame.

"I've got to get out of here," Molly muttered, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the half-empty dishwasher and her troubles behind.

She paused at the hall closet and slipped on a jacket, dropped her house keys in the pocket, and walked out of the house and into the chill night air. She'd been inside too long alone with her thoughts. The more she thought of Joseph and Carly, the crazier she became. Joseph said it was over, so it was over. But she couldn't forget walking into the day-care center and seeing that woman all over Joseph like flies on b.u.t.ter. And she'd convinced herself that since yesterday's hearing, Joseph had been distant.

Maybe he's regretting his decision to press charges. Maybe the sight of Carly brought back memories he thought he'd forgot. He had said that when he and Carly were together he thought he'd never love anyone else. Maybe he was just fooling himself about hating her now.

"And maybe I need to get another life," Molly muttered. She pa.s.sed a man on the sidewalk who was walking his dog, and she was instantly thankful for the cover of night. At least he wouldn't recognize a crazy woman who talked to herself in the dark.

The November air was sharp. She looked up at the stars, remembering how, as a child, she'd thought of night as something to be afraid of. Now, it was one of the few times in her life when she felt peace.

She liked her job. Everything in the florist business revolved around holidays and events. But she found that her life now revolved around her next-door neighbors. She tried to remember what it had been like before Joseph and couldn't. It seemed as if he and his son had always been in her life. Tears p.r.i.c.ked the corners of her eyes as she tried to imagine life again without them.

Molly was in love. Hopelessly. But she wondered where they would go from here. She didn't always want to be Joseph's lover and Joey's friend. She wanted it all. The only question was, did Joseph want more?

Molly sighed. In her heart, she knew her earlier fears were nothing more than an overactive imagination. The disgust and rage on Joseph's face when he'd seen Carly had been too real to manufacture. He did hate Carly, with a pa.s.sion. And he did want her out of their lives. It was just that after seeing Carly, and knowing what she was capable of, it was a wonder that Joseph had ever had the guts to trust another woman.

That was most of what was bothering her. What if he didn't? What if he managed to love, but not to trust? Without one, the other was impossible. He'd asked her to trust him. But was he capable of trusting her?

She kicked at a crack on the sidewalk and then stepped on it purposefully just to prove that she'd long ago gotten over that old childhood superst.i.tion. Yet as she walked, she knew that her mental wanderings were only postponing the obvious.

Face the facts, she told herself, and then groaned. I would, if I only knew what they are.

Granted, making love with Joseph was more than perfect, but he had yet to ask for more than her body. He'd said he loved her, but he did he love her enough to spend the rest of his life with her? Molly turned the corner and saw the brightly lit sign of Braums Ice Cream store, which was her destination. Moments later, she started to cry.

"All he has to do is ask," she muttered, swiping angrily at the tears streaking down her cheeks. "Then I wouldn't be walking alone at night in forty-degree weather to go eat ice cream. I'd be with him-in bed-melting the d.a.m.ned stuff."

A car came up behind her. Lights flashed, and she heard a window being rolled down. In the dark, on a city street, she should have been scared out of her mind, but all it did was make her mad.

"Hey, baby," a male voice crooned, and then someone else in the car made a rude remark and laughed. "A pretty thing like you shouldn't be out alone on a night like this."

Molly turned and glared. "Don't think I don't know it," she yelled. "But what do men like you do when someone wants a commitment? Nothing! That's what! Absolutely nothing."

The smirk on the man's face slid sideways. He wasn't certain what had just happened, but he'd definitely lost control of the situation.

"You're all just alike," Molly yelled. "Beat it. I've been had once too often in my life. You're way the h.e.l.l too late to do any more damage. Go pester someone else."

The window closed, the tires left rubber on the street as it shot away from the curb, and Molly threw her hands into the air and chastised herself through a mouthful of tears.

"What's the matter with me? I think I just insulted a mugger. I need that sugar fix worse than I thought."

She ran the rest of the way to the store, hit the door to Braums with the flat of her hand, and burst inside as if she were being chased.

"I want a dip of pineapple almond yogurt on a sugar cone," Molly said breathlessly.

"That bad, is it?" the waitress asked, eyeing Molly's disheveled appearance and the shortness of her breath.

Molly rolled her eyes and nodded. "Better make it a double."

The waitress laughed and went to fill the order. In her job she saw all kinds, and it took a lot more than one lone woman in need of sweet consolation to surprise her.

Minutes later Molly was nearing home, shivering as she licked the last bits of frozen yogurt from her fingers. She turned the corner, fixing her destination on the house next door instead of her own, ignoring the fact that it was nearly nine o'clock at night.

There was a light on in his study, so it was obvious that he was still up. And she wanted-no, needed-an answer to the question that kept haunting her.

She punched the doorbell with overzealous determination and waited on the front porch, licking her fingers between shivers. But when he opened the door, she forgot why she'd come. All she could do was wonder why men always looked so d.a.m.n appealing in T-shirts and blue jeans.

"Molly! What in the world are you doing out here in the dark? Are you all right? Has something....?"

She pushed her way inside, jabbing a finger against his chest and ignoring the fact that she hadn't even said h.e.l.lo.

"I'd like to know something, Joseph Rossi," she said shortly.

His mouth dropped. That sharp poke against his T-shirt wasn't all that friendly. He wondered what he'd done now.

After the brisk night air, the room in which she stood was suddenly smothering. Without thinking, Molly unzipped her green jacket and then shoved her hands in the pockets of her blue jeans, unaware that it stretched the fabric of her soft cotton sweater too tightly across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s for Joseph's comfort. And if she had known, she wouldn't have cared. She'd managed to work herself up into a really good snit.

"You have something in your hair," Joseph said, and plucked the bit of brown crust out of a wayward curl stuck in the neck of her jacket. "It looks like-"

"Ice-cream cone," she said shortly. "Don't change the subject."

"I'm sorry," he said, grinning. "I don't know what the subject is."

"Yes...well," she said, suddenly realizing how foolish she must seem. "I guess you ought to know by now...."

Joseph bent down. His lips grazed the pout of her lower lip just enough to taste. His tongue snaked out and slid across the curve once, twice. He groaned and lifted his head.

Molly forgot what she'd been about to say. She was lost in the dark fire of his gaze.

"Chocolate chip," she muttered.

"Tasted more like pineapple to me," Joseph whispered.

"No...I meant your eyes. They remind me of chocolate chips."

"h.e.l.l, honey, are you all right? You come in here mad, with ice-cream cone in your hair, pineapple on your lips, and chocolate on your mind? What's a man to think?"

Molly groaned. What had seemed like a good idea earlier, suddenly seemed foolish. "I think I'll leave now," she said, and headed for the door.

"Not so fast." Joseph grabbed her by the arm, tugging gently as he turned her to face him. He tilted her chin with the tip of his finger, gazing long and hard into those clear blue eyes, and tried not to smile. "I think you and I need to talk, my love."

Molly's face lit up. "Am I really?" she whispered, and slid her arms around his neck.

Again, she'd lost him. That answer didn't fit what he'd just said. He buried his face in the collar of her jacket, inhaling the scent of cold, fresh air still clinging to her hair, and smiled, remembering the bit of ice-cream cone.

"Molly, I think you should start over," Joseph said, and this time he couldn't stop the laughter.

She groaned, slid her arms around his waist, and knew that if she looked up, she would be blushing.

"Never mind," she whispered.

"Oh, no, you don't," he said, and shook her gently. "You don't get away with this so easily. You can't come barging in on me and accuse me of nothing. Not me, you don't. I don't take nothing sitting down."

She started to laugh. He was right. She had absolutely nothing to be mad at him about. Not really. She sighed, wondering if this evening was just an early sign of PMS.