He hesitated, not wanting to touch it. Not because it was evidence, although it probably would have been, had they not illegally tampered with the grave. Touching the doll would be a connection to the person who'd put it into the grave. That was a connection he would have liked to have avoided, but he could see that wasn't possible.

He took the doll, then reached for Karen. He just wanted to get the h.e.l.l out of here. And fast.

"LOOK AT THIS," Karen said after they'd left the cemetery far behind. The lights from Missoula bled through the low-hanging clouds making the buds on the trees glisten bright new green. It was the trees that made Missoula the Garden City. Soon the branches would be filled with lush green leaves that would form canopies over the streets.

Carefully, she held out the doll for him to see.

Someone had tied a piece of surgical hose around the doll's neck like-like an umbilical cord, Jack realized with a start. "Oh, my G.o.d," he whispered.

She put the doll down on her lap and stared at it. "It looks as if a child made the clothes for it." He could hear the emotion in her voice and knew she was close to tears. "I think this doll was Liz's."

His gaze leaped to her. "What makes you think that? that?"

She turned back the small collar on the doll's worn dress. The tiny homemade tag inside read: Jones Original.

"I had a doll just like this," she said. "Twenty years ago. That's when they came out. Every girl my age wanted one for Christmas that year. I got mine early, for my eighth birthday."

"I guess you're right," he said, not wanting the doll to be Liz's. Not wanting to believe she'd put it into the grave. Tangled a piece of hose around its neck, just as nature supposedly had done to her baby?

He didn't want to think about the person who'd buried the doll. Or about the real baby, Joanna Kay. Could this mean that she was still alive? He knew that was what Karen was hoping. But he wasn't so sure. None of this made much sense. Who in his right mind would bury a doll?

At the hospital, Denny had been given something to sleep and was out like a light, visiting hours were hours away and the nurse wouldn't let Jack and Karen stay.

Jack stopped by his apartment, just long enough to check the mail and answering machine. On the spur of the moment, he grabbed something for Karen and stuck it into his pocket.

Back in the Jeep, he noticed how exhausted she looked. She should have been convalescing. Not digging up graves. She looked so small and frail. It drew on every protective instinct in him. "I'm taking you home."

She smiled. "Home. I love the sound of that."

He smiled over at her, choked up by the rush of emotions she evoked in him. Just as impulsively as a few minutes before when he'd dug it out of the drawer in his apartment, he pulled the small velvet box from his jeans pocket. "With everything that's happened I forgot to give you this."

She stared down at the box, her eyes lighting up. He watched her take it, her fingers trembling, and for one moment he thought he'd only made matters worse.

But then she opened it, saw the thin worn gold band and said, "Oh, Jack."

"It was my grandmother's." That was all he could get out. He'd seen her glance at her naked ring finger. He didn't want her to think that her husband hadn't cared. Everything else might be a lie, but he did care. G.o.d, how he cared for this woman.

She slipped the ring on her finger. It was only a little loose on her slim finger. She looked up at him, love glowing in her eyes, the exhaustion and horror of the night washed away for the moment.

He couldn't have asked for anything more than that. He started the Jeep and drove toward the lodge. Home. He didn't care that it wasn't true. He blocked out the guilt and the voice that tried to warn him he was about to make the worst mistake of all.

Karen curled against him. He put his arm around her and pulled her close as they drove through what little was left of the night.

A COOL BREEZE COOL BREEZE sighed at the panes as Karen padded barefoot into the living room. She could see her husband silhouetted against the fading darkness beyond the front window. He stood motionless, his hands buried in his jeans pockets as he looked out. She stopped to stare at his broad shoulders, his strong back, the ache in her almost overwhelming to hold him. If only she could remember, then there would be no reason they couldn't make love. No reason he couldn't lie next to her and hold her in the darkness of the bedroom. sighed at the panes as Karen padded barefoot into the living room. She could see her husband silhouetted against the fading darkness beyond the front window. He stood motionless, his hands buried in his jeans pockets as he looked out. She stopped to stare at his broad shoulders, his strong back, the ache in her almost overwhelming to hold him. If only she could remember, then there would be no reason they couldn't make love. No reason he couldn't lie next to her and hold her in the darkness of the bedroom.

Or would there be? Why did she sense there was more to it than her injury and memory loss? That whatever was troubling Jack had something to do with her? With them?

"Darling?" she called softly.

He turned, his eyes hooded but she saw his reaction to her standing there in the long silk nightgown, the fabric falling over her curves, cupping and skimming, as sensual as any garment she'd ever owned. The perfect honeymoon attire. She'd purchased it earlier on the way to her shop for grave-digging tools. She'd run into a small boutique while Jack waited in the Jeep.

Now she realized the only thing that would make the gown more perfect was to have Jack take it off her. Slowly, lovingly. To feel his hands brush over the silk, over her expectant body.

"Karen," he said, his voice sounding hoa.r.s.e.

She moved to him, joining him at the window. In the distance she could see Missoula's lights, twinkling like stars on a dark canvas of velvet black.

"Jack, I don't care what the doctor said," she whispered as she ran her hand along the top of his shoulder, down his arm to take his hand and press it to her heart. "I want you, Jack. I need you."

She heard his sharp intake of breath; she could feel the same vibration humming through him. She had never doubted that he wanted her. She knew he was just trying to protect her health, doing what the doctor had ordered. Only the doctor didn't know what was best for her. Jack was. She needed him. And now.

"Please, Jack. I can't bear spending another night in that bed alone."

SHE LOOKED LIKE an angel standing there in that long white gown. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. So s.e.xy. So stirring. He could feel her gaze on him. A current ran through him, making him ache with need, filling him with a desire that threatened to drop him to his knees. an angel standing there in that long white gown. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. So s.e.xy. So stirring. He could feel her gaze on him. A current ran through him, making him ache with need, filling him with a desire that threatened to drop him to his knees.

He ran a hand down her arm, over the silky fabric and drew back, telling himself all the reasons this was wrong. Then why did it feel so right?

He cupped her face in the palm of his hand and thumbed across her cheek to her lips. She turned her head to kiss the pad of his thumb as it skimmed over her cheek in a slow arc. He closed his eyes and groaned as she sucked his thumb into her mouth.

His eyes flew open. "Karen-"

She hushed him with her gaze and the slow shake of her head. As she stepped closer, his free hand cupped her slim waist, sliding to the small of her back.

She unb.u.t.toned his shirt and slid it from his shoulders. It dropped to the floor. He slid his hand to her round, firm b.u.t.tock and pulled her to him. Silk against his bare skin, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, heavy and firm beneath it, pressed against him.

He dropped his mouth to hers. The kiss was hot and wet and when he pulled back, his body felt on fire. He let his gaze slide down her slim neck to the deep V of the gown. Rosy-pink nubs of nipples pressed against the fabric, straining as if begging for his mouth. He turned her in his arms, kissing the back of her neck, telling himself all the reasons he couldn't do what his body demanded, pleaded he do. This side of her was just as tempting as the other, he realized belatedly as she pushed her wonderful round behind into him.

He heard her pleased chuckle as she confirmed that he wanted her as badly as she did him. She reached behind her to cup his jaw in her hand and turned with a dancer's grace to face him again.

And oh, what a face she had. So sweet, her eyes liquid emotion, her lips full and soft and so inviting- "I want to make love with you," she whispered. "It's unbearable being this close to you and not touching, not kissing you, not-"

He could smell her scent as she moved closer, her body warm beneath the gown, the silk slick and cool against his skin. Her body molded to him. Then her lips. Pure sweetness. Just a little taste. Like a dusting of powdered sugar.

He knew he should stop her before she turned up the heat. Before he got caught in the fire between them and couldn't get out. But suddenly her kiss was pure sweet confectionery and he was warm taffy in her hands.

With a groan he pulled her even closer, kissing her as she had kissed him. Sweet and soft. Hard and hot. He'd never felt such desire. He'd never wanted a woman the way he wanted her.

She slipped a hand behind his head and drew him down to her breast. The nipple leaped at the touch of his tongue, straining against the thin fabric. He drew the rosy hard tip into his mouth and suckled gently. She moaned, her head back, the moonlight on her face.

"Jack, please, make love to me."

He looked down into her eyes and knew he was lost. He knew what he was about to do was far worse than digging up graves but he couldn't stop himself. He wanted her. He'd wanted her since the first time he'd seen her.

And he couldn't have turned back, even if he'd wanted to. For in that instant in time, he believed his own lie. He swept his wife up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jack woke in the early afternoon with Karen in his arms. He looked down at her incredible face and felt a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to drown him.

He lay for a moment trying to wade through those emotions. But one kept pulling him under. Guilt. It drowned out everything else, leaving him confused and afraid.

He'd made love to her, letting her believe they were married. Something he'd promised himself he wouldn't do. Couldn't do. And yet, he'd never wanted anyone more in his life.

To make his guilt worse, he didn't regret making love to her. How could he regret something so wonderful? He told himself it had been because he'd bought into his own lie. He'd truly felt "married" to her. He'd been caught up in that whole two becoming one thing. And it had been incredible.

But while he couldn't regret what they'd done, he couldn't forgive himself. Just as he knew Karen wouldn't be able to when her memory returned.

All told, he felt rotten. Was rotten. He feared he had destroyed whatever they could have had together.

He tried not to think what that might have been or how remarkable and rare it was as he slipped his arms from around her.

She moaned softly in her sleep, the sound tugging at him like an undertow. The strength of that pull scared him. He already felt shaken from their lovemaking-and afraid. Afraid for Karen because of the killer after her. Afraid of the hurt she'd feel when she learned the truth about the man she thought was her husband. Just afraid he would have to pay an unbearable price for what he'd done. That price, he feared, was losing Karen.

She moaned softly and flung an arm out as if reaching for him. He stared down at the hand now resting on his bare chest. The sparkle of his grandmother's wedding band gleaming like fool's gold. He closed his eyes, the pain too much.

After a few moments, Karen seemed to fall into a peaceful sleep again. He opened his eyes and gently lifted her hand, trying desperately to ignore the sensations her touch evoked in him as he slipped from the bed.

He scooped up his hurriedly discarded clothing and left the bedroom, leaving Karen in the big bed they'd shared. Telling himself he didn't want to wake her because she needed her sleep.

The truth was, he didn't want to face her this morning. What would he say? He'd taken his lie too far. He'd let himself become too involved with this woman. Worse, he knew how this would end. He felt a hard, cold ache of heartbreak, knowing that he'd just put the kiss of death on what could have been.

He wanted to confess, to make himself feel better. To end it now before he caused either of them more pain. But doing that would surely jeopardize Karen's life. That was the one thing he would not do.

He glanced at his watch, surprised to see how late it was. Early afternoon. Not that many hours before the third and final, he hoped, meeting with the third person who'd responded to Karen's ad. He had to concentrate on that right now.

He didn't believe for a moment that the meeting was anything more than a last-ditch attempt to draw Karen out and kill her. But he had a plan.

He picked up his cell phone and, taking it outside, he made his first call.

"I have Karen Sutton," he said when Detective Captain Brad Baxter answered. "I'm bringing her to the third meeting."

Silence.

Jack hoped Baxter had a little cop in him. But even the politician in the man would want this case solved. And Baxter had to know, just as Karen had pointed out, that unless the killer believed she'd be there, he had no reason to show.

The best way to get the word out, considering that Jack suspected a leak in the police department, was to tell Baxter. He'd gear up for a worst-case scenario. Word would spread. The killer, hopefully, would hear that Karen would be there.

"If I see you I will have you arrested for obstructing justice," Baxter said without much force.

"Seems fair," Jack said and hung up.

Baxter hadn't threatened. Hadn't even raised his voice. But then he probably hadn't heard about the grave Jack and Karen had dug up last night. Yet. Nor did he know just how far Jack planned to go to get the killer.

Jack called Denny at the hospital next. "I'll be by soon. I just wanted to let you know that I'm taking Karen to the third meeting. It's the only way to draw out the killer and Karen insisted."

Denny chuckled. "Sure. Just don't try to sell me any Arizona oceanfront property, all right."

Jack knew Denny wouldn't believe it, but he'd had to try. And if he was dead wrong and Denny had killed Liz? Well, Denny was in the hospital, laid up. He was no threat to Karen.

Not that Jack could believe Denny had killed Liz. Or that he would harm Karen. But Denny had lied to him about a woman a few years back. It was that lie, like a tiny crack in a dike, that worried at Jack.

"You talked to Vandermullen?" Denny sounded anxious.

He didn't want to give his friend false hope. "There's a chance your daughter is still alive."

Denny let out a sound so filled with emotion that it tore at Jack's heart. "I'll tell you everything when I see you."

The third call was to the only man Jack trusted to leave with Karen.

KAREN WOKE TO THE EMPTY BED, Jack's side still warm, his imprint still visible in the mattress. She placed her hand on the spot where he'd been, remembering last night, relishing in it. Her body felt as if it glowed with an inner fire that Jack had ignited. It blazed still, warm and comforting even without him close by. She only wished she'd found herself in his arms this morning and they'd made love again, refueling that already-burning fire.

So where was her husband? She sat up, wondering if he was in the kitchen making breakfast. She sniffed. No bacon frying. No sound coming from that direction.

Slipping from the bed, she pulled on his robe and went to find him. Immediately she realized he wasn't in the lodge. But through the front window, she could see him out by the rock wall with his cell phone pressed to his ear.

The danger he'd said she was in came back in a rush of secondhand memory. She knew just by the set of his broad shoulders that whatever he was doing had to do with the Liz Jones murder case. And her. Her husband wouldn't be able to rest until the killer was caught. She'd seen the worry in his eyes, felt the restlessness in him and sensed him holding back. Was he afraid to love her too much for fear of losing her?

But at least for a while she had made him forget the murder. Forget everything but the two of them. It had been heaven. She smiled at the memory of the hours they'd spent making love. For her, it had felt like the very first time with him. And amazingly, Jack seemed just as surprised by the wonder of it.

She couldn't believe how good they were together. How they had found each other and now had the kind of pa.s.sion she'd only dreamed of. She'd known they had to have had a great s.e.x life. She'd felt the chemistry between them and hadn't been able to wait to make love with him.

Oh, how she wanted to take her husband back to bed this morning. She opened the front door and padded barefoot out onto the small porch. After all, they were on their honeymoon, weren't they?

"Jack?" she called.