"I didn't want to bother you." Wrong answer. She could tell by the way his pupils glazed over. She quickly added, "Besides, there was no way I could call you; it was a country road, nothing around for miles."

That stopped him. He considered her words for a few moments.

"All right. Only next time, call me."

Zanita knew men always said stuff like that in situations such as this, completely ignoring logistics. As if the next time something similar happened, they would somehow miraculously appear out of the ether to take care of it!

She never understood it.

Her grandfather Hank acted the same way. Zanita also knew that once you agreed to what they said, regardless of how farfetched it might be, their feathers immediately unruffled and they forgot about it. Tyber apparently was no exception to this peculiar male trait.

"Okay."

"Mills called; she said she'd be here in about half an hour." Feathers sleek again.

"I better hurry and clean up-"

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a roar from Blooey. Zanita jumped, throwing a questioning glance at Tyber.

"My-Maggy's here." Another crash was followed by more yelling, Blooey cursing, and a raspy bellow from a distinctly Irish-accented voice.

Tyber winced. "Don't worry-they love each other." At Zanita's disbelieving look, he added, "Sort of, Zanita, why are you staring at me?"

She still couldn't stop looking at him. "You're dressed."

Tyber wondered if her recent experience with the flat had shaken her brains. He slowly approached her and carefully lifted her chin with his index finger. "Yes, but don't worry, baby; it comes off."

He brushed her lips, standing well away from her dusty clothes. "Better hurry; they'll be here soon."

As he watched her walk up the stairs, he made a mental note to add a cellular phone to his shopping list.

Zanita whispered to her friend. "So, what do you think, Mills? Did I exaggerate or what?"

"No, it's just like you said. This place is incredible." Her sights strayed to Tyber, who was sipping a drink while watching the sunset through the large sitting room window. "And so is he. I still hate you."

"Thank you, Mills. You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that." And she meant it. Mills had given her the supreme compliment between girlfriends: she was pea-green and woman enough to admit it.

They both giggled.

Tyber was thinking how beautiful Zanita looked when she came down the stairs a little while ago in a long, dark blue dress. An amethyst choker circled her slender throat, bringing out the color of her incredible eyes.

The corner of his mouth lifted as he smiled distractedly. He had noticed she had chosen to bring her curls over her forehead. He just bet that grease mark had been a bitch to get off; he should know, he'd worked on enough cars in his- A screech of wheels drew his attention to the front of the house where an old Mercedes, going much too fast, was turning the curve of the drive on two wheels. What kind of a knuckleheaded dimwit drove down a private drive like the flames of hell licked at their heels?

His eyes widened as he realized what was in the direct path of the erratic automobile. He clutched the edge of the window sill, his knuckles turning white.

"The Harley-not the Harley!" he gritted out.

There was a crash crunch, a sound of gears grinding, the squeal of the tires again, then the thump of a heavy door being slammed shut.

Tyber dropped his forehead to the window glass, closing his eyes in acute pain.

A second later, a decisive rapping issued from the front door knocker.

Zanita threw a wary glance at Tyber, wondering what had happened. Since he wasn't moving to answer the door, she gingerly went to do it.

"Zanita!" A loud, nasal voice filled the foyer. "How marvelous to see you at last! I can't tell you how happy I am to be with you."

"Auntie!" Zanita threw herself into the woman's arms.

"Let me see you!" The flamboyant woman held Zanita at arm's length as if checking her for damage. "You wouldn't believe it, but some idiot left a motorbike right in the middle of the road."

A choking sound came from the direction of the windows.

Auntie waved her hand, immediately dismissing the subject as if it were of no importance. Her piercing brown eyes fell on Mills. "Look what we have here-it's Marvelous Mills!"

"Auntie." Mills plastered a smile on her face, embracing the older woman.

Auntie, in her usual forthright manner, marched into the parlor, throwing her enormous handbag onto the pouf. Tyber briefly wondered if enormous handbags were a genetic trait passed on to the women in Zanita's family.

"Why didn't you tell me she was coming?" Mills hissed at Zanita.

"Because I wanted you here. Now hush up. You know Auntie loves you."

"She has a strange way of showing it; she always makes me feel like a kid whose hand got caught in the cookie jar."

"It's not personal; Auntie makes everybody feel that way."

"And who is this marvelously handsome young man?"

Auntie turned to Tyber, who was valiantly trying to throw off his internal pain by straightening his shoulders. And if the woman said mahh... velous one more time he was going to spontaneously combust. His motorcycle.

"I'm the idiot," he responded curtly.

Auntie's eyes narrowed. Zanita quickly stepped in. "Auntie, this is Tyber. Did you-did you have a nice trip down?"

"Oh, horrors! I thought it would never end." She reached into her purse, withdrawing a card. "I'm sorry I tapped your bike, Tyber. Do send me the bill." She handed him the card before peeling off her faux leopard coat and collapsing onto the couch with a whoosh. "I am so parched."

Tyber stared at the card for a moment, thinking, tapped? The woman had crushed his bike.

Zanita cleared her throat pointedly.

Tyber's head snapped up. "Uh... can I get you something to drink, Auntie?"

Zanita could tell he was having trouble with the name.

He thought of an acceptable drink to offer an elderly great aunt who murdered motorcycles without an ounce of remorse, blithely going on her merry way as if the remains of the crime weren't lying belly-up in his driveway! Hemlock. "Some mineral water or ice tea?"

"Bourbon."

He paused just for a moment. "Bourbon it is." He tossed the card into a small wastebasket he passed on the way to the liquor cabinet. He had no intention of contacting this woman. Ever. "Some water or ice?"

"Heavens, no!" She answered in the voice that sounded as if it had escaped from locked jaws. "Just bring me an empty glass and that bottle of Wild Turkey." She tapped the coffee table to show him exactly where she wanted it.

Tyber did as he was told. Although an idiot, he was no fool.

Auntie took a healthy swallow of her drink. "Ahh, now I feel like a human being again."

Tyber raised his eyebrow. A human being? From what planet? The woman was wearing three hats.

Zanita picked up the faux leopard. "Let me hang up your coat for you, Auntie. Would you like me to take your hats?"

"Just these two." She removed them from her head. "I always leave one on; my trademark, you know." She focused on Tyber. "Be a dear, young man; could you get my luggage out of the car for me?"

"Of course, Auntie." He quickly turned to leave, glad for any reason to be free of that room. Of that woman.

Auntie scrutinized his departure with interest. "Marvelous buns."

Tyber's step faltered for a second, then seemed to speed up.

"So, Mills, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, the usual." Mills swore she wouldn't give this woman any ammunition. None. She reached for a stuffed mushroom from the tray Blooey had left earlier. Zanita returned to the room.

"You know, Mills, I was in Bloomingdale's the other day, and I saw the most perfect sweater for your coloring." She focused pointedly on Mills' statuesque frame. "Although I'm not sure they had your size."

Mills' mouth closed. Slam-dunked, she lowered the mushroom back to the tray.

"Excuse me..." Tyber's voice sounded from the doorway. "There are seven suitcases in your car; which one did you need, Auntie?"

"Why, you silly boy-all of them, of course."

Tyber went back out. Zanita winced when she heard him bellow "Blooey!" in his best pirate captain voice.

He came back in just when Auntie said, "So where's the fish? Is he here yet?"

Tyber took a deep breath. "Zanita, can I talk to you for a minute?"

His voice was low. Too low. Zanita wet her lips, nervously following him out to the foyer. He reached around her, sliding the parlor doors shut with a commanding snap of his wrist.

"Yes, Tyber?" She tried for a sweet, innocent expression. It didn't work. He looked about ready to fire all cannons. Tyber was in a rant.

"She has seven rock-stuffed pullmans with her! She's drinking straight bourbon in there. Her mouth doesn't move when she talks. She ran over my motorcycle!" This last was said with spleen.

"Well..." She opted to answer for the least of Auntie's offenses in an attempt to sidetrack him. "Auntie talks that way because she went to Wellesley."

"What the hell does that have to do with it?"

"They sort of trained them to talk that way in those days." She bit her lips, waiting to see if he was appeased. No way. Not even close.

"Zanita, she commented on the shape of my-" He stopped, feeling too foolish to say it out loud.

"The shape of your what?" she asked curiously.

"My buns," he spat out.

Zanita put a hand to her mouth and giggled. He frowned down at her.

"Well, they are worth commenting on." She winked at him.

Tyber knew when he had been outmaneuvered. The outrageousness of the past half hour hit him. Against his will, his left eye twinkled; the corner of his mouth lifted. She was defusing him. He wasn't sure he wanted to be defused, dammit!

He tried to regain his righteous indignation. "You did just invite her for the weekend, didn't you?"

"By tomorrow you'll love her."

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring straight down at her, the imprint of doubt.

"I suppose it's a relative concept." Zanita suddenly beamed proudly up at him as she realized something. "That's a physics joke, Tyber!"

His expression softened. "C'mere."

His arms went around her. He bent to her lips.

The parlor door rolled open, and Mills stuck her head out.

"If you leave me alone in there with her for another minute, I'm going to kill both of you! Now stop smooching; get back in here and do your time."

Tyber exhaled in resignation. They each took one of his hands and dragged him back into the room.

Auntie's no-nonsense lock-jaw greeted them. "What were you two naughty children doing out there? Come sit by me, you thoroughly marvelous man. I want to know everything about you." Tyber groaned.

Chapter Twelve.

LaLeche arrived exactly on time at the stroke of seven.

He entered the parlor all smarmy charm, immediately sizing up the occupants as Zanita hoped he would, making a beeline for Auntie. This, of course, was only after he had gushed on and on about the charming grace of Tyber's Victorian mansion while undressing her with his eyes.

Zanita sank back into the thick cushions of the green velvet chair, thankful LaLeche had just missed the tragicomic altercation that had started in the kitchen and ended up in the sitting room. She winced as she remembered it.

There had been another loud crash from the kitchen and a lot of furious yelling before Blooey came charging into the room, a dripping wooden spoon held aloft in his hand like a righteous weapon of indignation.

"She's done it this time, Captain! The harpy has done it this time, I tell ye."