Tyber had elected to take back country roads instead of the highway so they could enjoy the spectacular New England foliage at a leisurely pace.

His schedule of a five-hour trip was totally optimistic since they had already stopped twice-once at a picturesque farm to buy a huge pumpkin to take back with them for Halloween and another time at a roadside stand to buy a bushel of apples and a zucchini bread.

"We have to leave room back there for a couple of jugs of maple syrup. I promised Blooey we'd bring him back some."

Zanita kneeled on the seat to peer through the back window. "There's plenty of room back there. We can even bring Hambone some Vermont mice."

"He'd love that."

Zanita reached down to her purse and withdrew the dossier on LaLeche.

Tyber glanced over and when he saw what she had in her hands, he briefly closed his eyes. "Tell me you didn't bring that with you."

"Of course I did. We need to study it so we know what we're dealing with."

"We know what we're dealing with-a scam artist."

"Yes, but there's nothing concrete in here to nail him with."

"Do you suppose that could be the reason he isn't in jail?" He asked facetiously.

"Why do you think they had this on him?" Zanita had not discussed with Tyber how he had gotten the documents. She really didn't want to know, and she more than suspected he really didn't want her to know.

"Apparently, according to the report, he's been under investigation for some time by the bunko unit, as well as being under suspicion for a number of other Federal crimes."

"I don't see that here."

"I must have forgotten to give you those sheets."

As if Tyber ever would make such a mistake! So he had chosen to hide some of the more sensitive documents from her. Okay. She could live with that. As long as he came clean with her concerning any other information.

"If there are any other... sheets you've forgotten to give me, perhaps you can just fill me in."

He pulled the truck to the side of the road and shut the engine.

"What are you doing? Why did you sto-"

He took her in his arms and kissed her. Deeply. Passionately.

Then he started the truck and got on the road again, leaving her completely stunned.

"What on earth did you do that for?"

"I like your style, baby. Always have." He gave her a roguish grin.

Well, I'll have to do that again sometime, she thought. That is, once I figure out exactly what it is he thinks I did.

Chapter Eight.

"Dimitri Ziest, Marvin Broconol, Damon Green, Xavier LaLeche-all aliases at one time or another." Zanita flipped through the dossier. "Born Steven Liss, 1948, in Buffalo, New York. Only son of Marguerite Liss. Father unknown."

"This sounds like we're entering the Twilight Zone." Tyber swung the truck onto a side road.

"Submitted for your speculation..." Zanita hummed the theme song.

Tyber laughed. "What else does it say?"

She gave him a look that said, you know very well what it says. "He lived under many different names in many states: Massachusetts, California, Ohio-"

"Where did he stay the longest?"

"Um-" She scanned the form. "California. Why?"

"I don't know yet. What about the other places-is there a pattern for length of stay?"

"Actually, yes, now that you mention it. About four months in each city. Why do you suppose that is?"

"He left before things got hot for him, always one step ahead of implication and the law. I suspect that's how he's managed to elude full-scale investigation by local authorities. How long was he in California?"

"Two years. What do you make of that?"

"I think there was a definite reason he needed to be in California for that length of time. From his profile, he's not the type of man who just goes with the flow like flotsam and jetsam, buffeted about by the currents. No, this man controls his life-every aspect. He was there for a purpose."

"Any ideas?"

"Not yet. Where did he live when he resided in California?"

"Let's see... San Francisco, briefly; then L.A."

"I seem to remember something about an electronics plant there."

She nodded. "It almost seems as if he went legit for a couple of years; he worked for a company called Space Age Systems. An investigator noted in the margin that it was a respectable company. They manufacture shuttle components. I don't see any connection there, do you?"

"No. It had to be something he was doing on the side. Anything else?" He entered a private drive leading up to a breathtaking mansion.

"Nothing definitive. I wonder if-what are we doing here?" Zanita looked up at the palatial house and manicured grounds.

"Welcome to the Marble Manor Inn." He stopped the truck in front of the portico.

"Tyber, you're kidding! This is beautiful."

"It is." Tyber scrutinized the interesting architectural details fondly. "Beautiful. It was built in the mid-1800s from locally quarried golden marble. The original carriage house is still standing. See?" He pointed to the rear of the house.

"Wow! I can't wait to see the inside. Will we really have a room made out of marble?"

Tyber swung their suitcase out of the truck, resting it on the driveway. He lifted her chin with the edge of his hand, brushing her lips with his own. "Of course we will."

She threw her arms around his neck, bringing his head down for a deeper kiss. "This is wonderful, Doc. Really wonderful."

"It's just the beginning," he promised, kissing her once more before he released her, leading her into the inn.

The inn was a splendid example of Tyber's preferred Victorian charm, and Zanita wasn't really surprised he had chosen it for their stay. They eagerly explored the downstairs before checking into their room.

Fresh flowers, exquisitely arranged in vases, graced every chamber. The ceilings were all thirteen feet high, with carved moldings and crystal chandeliers brilliantly suspended from rosette medallions.

There were several parlors, each furnished in opulent Victorian. One room had been turned into a cozy library with a huge marble fireplace fronted by couches and chairs. The remains of late afternoon tea were still evident on the sideboard. A half-finished chess game waited patiently for completion on a low table by the window.

When they checked in, the friendly innkeeper gave them a brief history of the house, informing them that all the rooms were named after famous people. When Zanita learned that Tyber had requested the Errol Flynn room, she looked at him askance. He just put his arm around her as he led her up the stairs, saying, "How could I resist?"

Zanita sighed as she viewed the sumptuous room.

It was utterly beautiful.

Gabled windows were open to fresh air and rolling Vermont hills, displaying the vibrant colors of fall. The center of the room sported a massive brass bed, which was indeed one-hundred-and-twenty years old. It was covered with an antique, hand-crocheted spread.

The promised fireplace of gold marble faced the bed. Two overlarge Queen Anne chairs flanked the raised hearth of the fireplace. A large red oriental rug graced the floor.

The walls, floors, and ceilings were all of golden marble.

Zanita eyed the sunken marble tub in the bathroom. "Now I know why they call it the Errol Flynn room." Tyber came up behind her to peer over her head.

"It does give the imagination healthy exercise, doesn't it?" he murmured, bending down to nip her shoulder.

She glanced up at him, grinning impishly. "What time do we have to be at LaLeche's digs, Captain Blood?"

"Bring me to a hotel room and that's the first thing you think of." A dimple curved his cheek. "And you women wonder why men are so skittish about these things." His hands rested on her shoulders as he turned her to him. "Unfortunately, we don't have time."

The back of Tyber's hand smoothed the hair from the side of her face; he bent toward her, placing a sizzling kiss in the hollow at the base of her throat.

"No?" She ran her fingers through the tawny strands of his hair, massaging his scalp, bringing him a little closer to her.

"No," he affirmed as his tongue lazily traced the line of her collarbone in slow, languorous strokes.

She sucked in her breath. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," he whispered, right before his mouth pressed heatedly against her own. His fingers began to nimbly unbutton her blouse.

"I see."

He emphatically stated, "We need to stop this right now, Zanita." At the same time his hand closed firmly over her breast.

"Okay." She went up on tiptoe to delicately suckle on his enticing lower lip.

He made a low sound, somewhere between ecstasy and agony, deep in his throat. Unconsciously, he returned the favor by rotating his palm around her hardened nipple. His action incited Zanita to lean into him, rubbing against his arousal, which was now straining the seams of his jeans.

"I mean it; we don't have time!" he growled. So saying, he immediately fell to his knees in front of her, his hands seeking the waistband of her pants.

Zanita couldn't help but smile. "I get the message, Tyber. It's definitely no."

"Now that we've got that straightened out-" He quickly unzipped her jeans, his lips scalding the trail in a burning, fiery tasting. Zanita felt his scorching breath right through the silk of her underpants. Her knees immediately buckled.

Tyber's strong hands caught her about the thighs to support her, taking the opportunity dip his hot, roving tongue into her belly button. Her fingers clutched the top of his head. "Tyber."

Tyber's arms flinched, but remained in an unyielding grip around her thighs. He rested his damp forehead against her bare midriff while he tried valiantly to regain some measure of control. Great gulps of air shuddered through his heaving chest. Several seconds ticked by.

He failed.

And knew it.

He groaned in needless explanation against the flat of her stomach, "This is what is called a core meltdown, baby." Suddenly he yanked her jeans and panties down and off with one decisive stroke of his hands.

Without waiting, he unzipped his jeans and brought her down right on top of him while he was still kneeling on the bathroom floor.

He slid into her like a steel pylon through molten ore.

It was the first time since she had gotten over her flu; they were both primed and ready. Zanita threw her head back, clutching his broad shoulders under the red flannel of his shirt, which now hung open to his waist.

"God, Tyber, you feel... oh, God, Tyber!"

It was all Tyber had to hear in his present condition.

He went nova.

The flat of his hands drew her closer to him as he surged up inside her. "So good, baby... you're so good, so good," he croaked.

"I want to feel your tongue inside my mouth." He cupped her head, bringing her face up to his.

Zanita buried her tongue inside him.

Tyber drew on it voraciously, letting her taste him as well.

Relentlessly, he was moving ever stronger and faster inside her. He began kissing her all over her face, wildly, desperately. She did the same to him. They writhed against each other, clutching, kissing, cleaving to one another in an increasing conflagration. It was pagan, reckless passion.

They were out of control.

Zanita cried out. Tyber cried out. They rocketed.

Still gasping for breath, Tyber clasped his arms around Zanita and fell backwards onto the marble floor of the bathroom. Zanita lay draped over his chest, completely undone.

"I don't know how you do that to me, Curls." His hand still shook in aftermath as he ran it caressingly over her short, springy hair.

Zanita braced her palms against his chest, slowly levering herself up to look him in the eye. "How I do that to you? You're the one who said we didn't have the time, and the next thing I know it's nuclear winter."