Her eyes widened. She clutched his hand off the mattress. "Tyber, don't let him take me to my grandmother! She's a Valkyrie with sick people."

"You're not going anywhere. I'll deal with Hank, but I think it was very irresponsible of you to worry him like this."

"Irresponsible! He wouldn't have known anything about it if you hadn't taken it upon yourself to call my office. And did you have to tell them who you were?"

He threw her a seething look and exited the room.

She never knew what Tyber said to her grandfather, but by the time Hank entered her room, he was all smiles and solicitousness. He inquired after her health, petted the cat, admired the house, spoke highly of Tyber, and told her to call her grandmother when she felt up to it. Then he insisted that she take the week off.

She watched her grandfather leave with an odd, sinking feeling in her chest. Hank, who had gone through wars, seen presidents murdered, and was once almost shot by a gangster, had unwittingly been Tybercised.

Zanita sighed philosophically. She would have to watch the captain like a hawk from now on. He was definitely starting to act like a boyfriend.

Tyber stood at the foot of his once-pristine shell bed watching Zanita sleep while propped up against four pillows.

The bed was littered with empty candy wrappers, various magazines, paperback books, tissues, cracker crumbs, a writing tablet, and Hambone. A half-eaten Oreo cookie floated in the aquarium next to the bed. His extremely rare, extremely expensive tropical fish were in the process of committing suicide by nibbling on it.

Theme music from a 1950s science fiction movie blared from the television set, signifying the approach of the beast from the planet Gilgamesh.

This is one definition of Chaos, he thought, smiling fondly down at her.

He got a net to retrieve the cookie before the fish did serious damage to themselves. Only Zanita would wonder if fish might like to share a chocolate cookie with her.

"Hmm? Oh, Tyber, it you..." She sleepily opened her eyes.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, much better." She took his hand, bringing it to her cheek. "Tyber, you've been so sweet."

"I have, haven't I?" He kissed her forehead before sitting on the bed next to her to watch the monster being electrocuted by the high tension wires. He chuckled. "Gets 'em every time."

"Hey, look at this-I almost finished The New York Times crossword puzzle. If I only knew the name of a three dimensional rectangular cube in twenty-seven letters..." She looked at him expectantly.

"A rectangular parallelepipedon," he supplied dryly.

"That's right! It fits!" Zanita had a great idea. "You know, you should go on Jeopardy."

"You're still feverish, aren't you?"

"No, I'm serious. We could make a bundle."

"We?" He arched a brow at her.

She sat up on her knees, putting her arms around his neck. "You have such a gorgeous... mind."

His arm came around her waist to secure her. "You are feeling better." He gazed down at her through half-closed eyes.

"Mmm, much." She rubbed his nose with her own.

"I have something for you," he drawled, low and sexy.

Her eyes flashed at him in a come-hither way. "What?" She whispered seductively.

"This." He handed her a sheaf of papers from behind his back.

"Oh." She glanced down at the papers, then back up at him. "Oh. Where on Earth did you get this?" It was a complete dossier on one Xavier LaLeche.

"You might say a friend of mine gave it to me."

"Tyber, these look like... are these F.B.I, files?"

He looked affronted. "Zanita! That would be illegal. I'd never do anything illegal."

The next day, three dark sedans rolled down the driveway and came to a stop in front of the house. Six men in suits came out of them. They all had identical "don't screw around with me" faces.

Tyber went out on the porch to greet them. Zanita warily hung back behind him, peering around his shoulder to see what was going to happen.

One man, obviously the one in charge, stepped forward and pointed an accusing finger at Tyber. "You son of a bitch!"

Tyber did not seemed fazed in the least. "Hello, Sean."

The irritated man turned to his men, barking out a command. "Don't huddle around-fan out!"

Tyber leaned against the porch balustrade, arms crossed. He immediately countermanded the order. "No, don't fan out."

The man named Sean glanced at Zanita, then spoke to Tyber. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

"Be right back, baby."

Zanita apprehensively watched them walk down the footpath to one of the far gardens. Then she turned her eyes to the other "visitors." Five double-barreled sets of steely eyes had her directly in their sights. She smiled rather sickly at them.

"I'll just stay right here," she offered magnanimously.

"Dammit, Tyber; you did it again!"

"You know what I told you."

"Yeah, if you could do it, someone else could. But I'm not so sure I buy that anymore. There's no one quite like you." Sean ran a hand distractedly through his short hair, causing it to spike.

"Don't delude yourself."

"All right," he grumbled. "We'll go over the system again. But dammit, Tyber, it's embarrassing! Your little breach occurred at a most inopportune time."

"Visiting dignitary and you just had to break away from the function when they called you?"

Sean flushed. "Not quite."

Tyber nodded sagely. "Ah, different type of function."

Sean rubbed his jaw. "Yeah. Say, who's the dish with the terrific gams?" He raised his hands. "Wait, don't tell me- she's some egghead from one of your highbrow institutions and you're diligently working together in your sterile laboratory for the good of all."

Tyber stared at him, not responding.

Sean scratched his ear. "Well, I suppose in some odd way, I should thank you for that little stunt."

"You're welcome."

"That grin is nothing less than evil. And I more than suspect you didn't have just the Department's best interests at heart. Especially by what was taken." He looked at Tyber sharply. "What are you doing, Tyber?"

Tyber put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "I couldn't say."

"Yeah. Right."

They walked back to the front porch.

"Let's go," Sean said to his men. "Good day, Ms. Masterson." He opened his car door, saying to Tyber, "I'll be in touch."

Tyber gave him a sharklike grin. "Not if I am first."

The man's eyes widened. "Christ," he muttered, slamming the door shut. They exited in the same formation they had entered.

"How did he know my name? Did you tell him my name?"

"No. Want to go get some lunch, baby?" He put his arm around her shoulders, steering her back into the house.

"But Tyber-"

"Mmmm, smells good-squash casserole."

"Oh, no! Blooey told me he was making a chef salad for lunch."

"Smells like squash casserole to me."

"Gripes! Ah... you know, I just remembered something I need to get at the store. I'll be back before dinner-"

He grabbed her by her shirt collar. "Oh, no you don't."

"You're taking the motorcycle?"

"To Vermont? Are you kidding, baby?"

"It won't fall off there, will it?" Zanita watched Tyber secure the bike to the bed of the pick-up.

He chuckled. "No. I would've liked for us to ride up in it, but with you just getting over that flu, I don't think it's a good idea."

Thank God. Zanita was not overly fond of motorcycles. The idea of riding on the back of one for five hours in a brisk fall wind at seventy miles an hour with bugs squashing into her teeth held little appeal.

Tyber opened the driver's side door, squeezing their suitcase into the well behind the seats. Zanita had originally packed a carton. Tyber gave it one disdainful look and dumped her stuff into his bag. When Zanita objected, he simply stated, "I am not walking into the Marble Manor Inn carrying that carton."

"Hpmh! Cartons make much more sense than suitcases. You just throw them away when you're done."

"Zanita, you are an extremely strange woman. And I admire that in you. But I am still not taking that carton." And that was that.

"It shouldn't take us more than five hours if we don't make too many pitstops." He started the truck. "Did you bring the directions?"

"I didn't have too; I memorized them."

Tyber groaned. "Make that a seven-hour trip."

"That's not funny. You know, I don't think the paper's going to reimburse you for staying at a place rich enough to be called the Marble Manor."

He viewed her obliquely. "I wasn't aware that I was on their payroll."

"You aren't. Well, at least not formally. I mean, you are helping me with this story, and even though it wasn't exactly an assignment, once the article gets published, the paper generally reimburses for out-of-pocket expenses. But not unreasonable expenses, and this inn sounds very expensive."

The corners of his mouth crooked. Zanita would do anything to avoid the appearance of having a relationship. He couldn't wait to see how she was going to rationalize this. "Don't worry, the paper is off the hook."

"No, I couldn't do that! After all, we're working together. It's not fair for you to-to-"

"Treat you?" he more than helpfully supplied.

"Um, yes. It's not that I don't-"

"Take you out for some really sumptuous dinners?"

"No, I don't think-"

"Ply you with fine wine over a candlelit table for two?"

"Candles? I mean, that wouldn't be-"

"Dine on cold raspberry soup and medallions of veal in cognac cream?"

"I... I'm not sure...."

"Make love to you in a hundred-and-twenty-year-old brass bed in front of a fireplace in a room completely made of golden marble?"

"Well... maybe just this once."

"How about just this twice?" He threw her a wicked smile.

"Tyber!" She blushed.

"Or just this thrice?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're starting up again."

"Probably."