"Pretty good. We have a couple of old-timers who've been coming here since before we built the cabins. Twenty-some years ago when I was about eight, I used to bring them a hot meal and check on them. Make sure they had coffee, bait. Mainly just so I could tell my family that they hadn't frozen to death. They'd pitch a tent on the riverbank and sleep out here in their sleeping bags, with it sleeting like h.e.l.l all around them."

"Marilyn and I used to go camping with her mother," Sam said. "Her mom's idea of 'roughing it' was more than two people sharing a bathroom, but Marilyn's always been hardy. She likes the outdoors. But I guess you know that by now."

Jack nodded then told Sam about her dunking him in the river.

"Never underestimate a woman," Sam said. "Particularly one from the East Coast. The rest of the country wouldn't have been settled if not for settlers and pioneers from back east. She comes from good stock."

Jack chuckled, thinking how well Sam knew his daughter and how much he himself didn't. She'd already given him a few surprises. Her dad, however, was one of the best.

Wouldn't it be interesting to wake up in Marilyn's arms every morning and be able to have Sam over for coffee or take him fishing?

"You want the whole truth?" Jackson asked."Shoot. I can take it." The older man narrowed his eyes."I love her, Sam.""What are you planning to do about it?"A grin slowly spread across Jack's face. "Well, it involves you, sir.""I hope you're not asking me to marry you!""Sort of. I know she's your only child. How would you feel about pullin' up roots and settin' 'em down here if your daughter decides she'll have me? Somehow putting distance between the two of you doesn't seem like a good idea. Besides, I'd enjoy your company."

"What on earth could they possibly be talking about?" Marilyn fumed, lowering the binoculars and setting them on the picnic table.

"I can't believe you're spying on them," Colette said, handing Marilyn a freshly made gla.s.s of iced tea and joining her on their front porch.

"Probably you," Chuck said, coming out of their cabin to join them.

"What does that mean?" Marilyn asked defensively.

"Just what I said. If I know men, your dad is wondering if Jack is treating you right, and Jack is tap-dancing as fast as he can to keep from spilling his guts to your father about his predicament in the contest."

"That friggin' contest!" Marilyn fumed. "I wish I'd never thought of it."

"Why did you?" Chuck asked, flinching when Colette jabbed him in the ribs.

"Pretty obvious, I'd say," Marilyn murmured. "I've been chasing a stupid pipe dream. I wanted to meet him, and the guy kept refusing to let me interview him. I figured that, short of showing up on his doorstep with no agenda, the contest was the next best thing."

She shook her head and sighed. "And all I've done is embarra.s.s him, challenge his integrity and put him in hot water up to his eyeb.a.l.l.s."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Chuck said. "Jack needed shaking up a bit. I think you've been good for him."

"Yeah?" Marilyn asked, daring to hope. "We shall see."

"Well, I'm off," Chuck said. "I have to prepare for tonight's dinner. I shouldn't have stayed as long as I have-just wanted to drop off that package you ordered for Jack."

He nodded over his shoulder toward the item draped over the sofa.

As Chuck left, Chance Delacroix drove up and honked. Marilyn's stomach lurched as she saw the pa.s.senger step out of Chance's Jeep.

She plastered what she hoped was a confused but delighted smile on her face and whimpered as Colette mumbled behind her, "Uh-oh, p.r.i.c.k alert!"

"Hey, gorgeous!" Ben yelled, setting down his luggage and opening his arms wide. "Come give me a kiss!"

Chapter Seventeen.

Eastern Oklahoma Wild Onions & Eggs.

Ingredients (to feed 46 people):.

1 cup wild onions, cut into small pieces.

2 tablespoons of bacon drippings.

1/4 cup of water.

6 or 7 large eggs.

Cook onions in bacon grease on medium heat, add water. Once onions are tender and most of water evaporated during cooking, add eggs, scramble. Great side dishes include pork chops, fried potatoes, green beans, sweet potato pie, garden salad. Life on the river...simple, uncomplicated, relaxing. Wasn't that what Jackson's books depicted? Not this inferno of mixed emotions, cl.u.s.ter f.u.c.ks and unsettling, seemingly unrelenting upheaval. "W-w-what are you doing here?" Marilyn stammered as Ben engulfed her in his arms and swung her around. "I came to apologize for being such a d.i.c.k before you left." His eyes searched hers earnestly. "I'm sorry for not paying more attention to you and for not understanding that, of course, you want to work a while longer." He took Marilyn's arm and ushered her toward the cabin's porch. Fishing in a jacket pocket, he produced a small, velvet-covered jewelry box and knelt on one knee. Ben's fingers wrapped around Marilyn's left wrist and pulled her hand toward him, and Marilyn shot Colette a helpless look. "Oh, Ben...no!" Marilyn cried, trying to ease herself out of his grasp. "I want to do this right, while I'm thinking of it," Ben insisted. "Good G.o.d!" Colette exclaimed, rolling her eyes then retreating into the cabin. Marilyn frowned. "While you're thinking of it? What's that supposed to mean?" Ben's smile slipped a little. "I meant... You know, while I was in the mood, while we were alone...sort of. Why are you upset?" "Because when a man asks me to marry him, I don't want his proposal to be a part of his daily agenda that he has to tick off on his calendar, Ben!" She stepped back. "Meeting with new client-check. Lunch with the boss-check. Propose to girl who left me- check!"

"I thought you'd be pleased to see me," Ben said, rising to stand.

She could tell that she'd hurt him, and for that she was immediately sorry. "After I just broke up with you?" she asked. "You should have called."

"I did-you never returned my calls."

Marilyn swallowed hard. "I'm sorry-truly sorry, Ben, but...this just isn't working for me."

She looked past him to see Chance helping her father and Jackson drag a canoe up the embankment toward Chance's Jeep. She could tell by the expressions on their faces that the three men had witnessed the whole proposal.

"Hi, Sam," Ben said ruefully. "I called your office and wheedled your destination out of your secretary. Sorry. I wanted to surprise Marilyn."

Sam wiped his hands on his pants and nodded. "Have a good flight?"

"It was okay." Ben shifted his weight.

Marilyn bit back a laugh. Ben was uncomfortable, and she couldn't tell if he knew the others had watched him kneel before her or not. Chance was amused and kept turning his face toward the river, hiding his grin. Jackson's handsome face was stormy.

"I asked her to marry me," Ben said.

"Get in line," Sam replied.

What? Marilyn nearly dropped to her knees.

"This young fellow here just asked my permission to marry her while we were drinking beer," Sam said, pointing to Jackson. "Sorry, Jackson. I know that was your call to say it, not mine."

Colette squealed from within the cabin, clearly having heard Marilyn's father.

"I don't understand." Ben turned to Marilyn. "You're having an affair with this man?"

"You did?" Marilyn peeked around Ben's body to stare at Jack.

He nodded, still looking like a thundercloud ready to erupt.

"Of course, he asked for a reasonable amount of time to convince her of it," Sam continued, pointing this time at Marilyn. "Seems first he has to learn how to cook, or the two of them will starve."

This time, Marilyn's knees buckled, and she crumpled against the picnic table for support.

"C'mon, Ben," Sam said, motioning for him to join him as he walked toward the Jeep and grabbed Ben's suitcase. "This other young fellow will drive us to my cabin, where you can freshen up before your return flight."

"Marilyn?" Ben asked, disbelief in his voice.

But she was already laughing and crying, oblivious as to what the others were doing, jumping to her feet and scrambling toward the rail where Jackson scooped her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest.

Marilyn threaded her fingers through his hair, locked her lips to Jackson's and quivered. "You might let a girl know," she said once she'd lifted her lips and heard the Jeep's engine revving. "Give her some warning."

"I take it this meets with your approval?" Jackson asked.

"You told my father that you can't cook?"

"I told him I was in love for the first time in my life, truly in love. It didn't seem proper not to divulge my dirty secrets if I intended to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. He deserves to know what he's getting in a son-in-law."

"I'm not letting you back out of this," she warned.

"Don't intend to, chere. Don't intend to." He leaned his head back a bit. "I do have a bone to pick with you though. How come you didn't tell me you had a fiance waiting for you back in Boston?"

Marilyn bit her lips before replying. "Jackson..."

"All this time you been houndin' me about not knowing how to cook, not to mention the times we been naked and you never brought up dis Ben fellow. Don't you think you owed it to me to at least let me know I had compet.i.tion?"

She smiled. "Baby, you have never had any compet.i.tion."

They turned toward the cabin as Colette coughed none too gently, reminding them that they weren't totally alone.

"Does this mean that Sam gets his Beef Flambe tonight?" she asked.

"He's teaching me how to cook it," Jackson replied.

"What about the others?" Marilyn asked. "Robert, Marie, the guests for the contest?"

"What with my compet.i.tion laid up with poison ivy, I could just play along and say that there is no contest," Jackson said. "But I figure the truth will come out eventually-I 'm going to just tell everyone that I'm a writer, not a chef, but that I'm learning. Just like them." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and sighed. "G.o.dd.a.m.n it. That's not true either."

"What? That you're not learning?"

"That I don't need to learn."

Marilyn's jaw dropped. "I thought we just covered this-many times. I thought you wanted to perfect this aspect of your career."

His eyes darkened as he watched her lips part. "Think you'd mind helping me along? Give me some pointers now and then that might improve my...uh...skills?"

Marilyn kissed him wildly. "You don't need tutoring outside the kitchen, Jackson, and considering I certainly don't know how to cook, I don't see a problem."

He released her so she could stand. He looked down at himself. "Chere, I need a shower-I'm smellin' kinda ripe after my outing with your dad, but I don't have anything to wear. Give me a few minutes, and I'll get some clothes."

Marilyn shook her head. "Nah-you won't need them. I have something I want you to wear. Colette will go over to your cabin and pick up some jeans and a shirt for you to wear before we meet Dad."

"I'm going to find Chuck," Colette said, breezing past them. "You may want to see Jackson wearing only that... well, what you have in there for him, but I'd rather see him fully dressed. Bye!"

Jackson's face held curiosity, but he did as Marilyn asked and followed her into the house, closing the door behind him. His eyes flamed with laughter as he saw the gift.

Besides his name, several slogans were embroidered on the ap.r.o.n-King Creole. Hot Stuff. Master Chef.

"Turn it over," Marilyn suggested gently.

When he did, Jackson howled with laughter as he read-Red Hot Lover. "Now how can I possibly refuse a gift like this?"

"You can't. Come here, Jackson," Marilyn cooed, crooking a finger and beckoning him. "I'll wash your back."

Jackson's blood pooled into his groin, and the thought of her in his arms and his c.o.c.k inside her was too delicious to deny.

He undressed her slowly, savoring every morsel of skin exposed, dredging his tongue across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and stomach as she stood quivering before him.

Slipping his fingers into her p.u.s.s.y, he murmured, "Jess like I like it. Wet and juicy, ready for me."

Marilyn melted against him. "I'm always ready for you, even though you haven't told me..."

"Haven't I?" he asked, stripping off his clothes and backing her towards the bed.

"Not really."

He grinned, holding himself steadily above her, moving his hips, teasing her with his c.o.c.k. "You want declarations before or after?"

She grabbed his hips and helped guide him inside her.

"Just don't keep me waiting too long," she said. "You know how impulsive I am-I might decide to hop a plane back for New York."

He rolled over with her on top of him and smacked her bottom, hips bucking as he helped her ride his c.o.c.k. "I also know that once you set your sights on something, you don't let up."

She moaned in satisfaction. "Meaning?"

Jackson slid in and out of her, eliciting one cry of joy after another, his hands caressing her b.u.t.t and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, leaving no part of her untouched or wanting.

His voice was a low growl, a tortured promise. "I will make you want me so badly that you will never leave!"

Heat resonated from her to the point that she was delirious, losing her mind, feeling nothing but a burning pleasure beyond anything she'd experienced. She climaxed... and again...and again...with Jackson's arms wrapped tightly around her, his voice in her ear bringing tears to her eyes.

"Je t'aime, ma chere. I love you, Marilyn! I love you-I love you-I love you!"

She heard her own voice meshing with his, their chant a mantra that would last them a lifetime.