Retter was standing by the small luxury jet, waiting for him.

"You're right on time."

"Stay away from me, Retter. In the mood I'm in, I just might kill you."

"No luck, huh?"

"Shut up."

Retter stepped aside so that Kyle could reach the stairs to the plane.

Kyle snarled at him as he paused by his side. "I really hate you for this.

Couldn't you have given me twenty-four hours before you came crashing in?"

"Would that have been enough?"

No, it wouldn't have. It wouldn't have made any of this a bit easier to swallow. Shoving Retter aside, Kyle ascended the stairs and bent his head down to enter the plane.

Retter was only a few steps behind him.

He saw Reno in the cockpit, wearing the pilot's headgear, waiting for them.

"So what did you do with her?" he asked as he took a seat up front, not far away from Reno.

Retter shrugged as he sat down in the row across from him. "Talked to her for a while. I found her fascinating."

Kyle saw red at his words. "Don't talk about her like that. She's too good for you."

"She's too good for you," Retter shot back.

Kyle didn't say anything. It was true.

It still didn't lessen the pain he felt.

Reno started making their flight plan.

In that moment Kyle knew what he needed to do.

He stood up again. "Reno," he said as he neared the cockpit. "I want you to fly us to Peoria."

Reno's jaw went slack. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I can't do that, mi hermano. Joe wants you home."

"Fuck Joe and what he wants."

"Whoa," Retter said, moving to stand behind him. "I think you need to take a more civil tone, bud. Have you any idea how much your little 'date'

has cost us already? There are countries with a smaller GNP than the tab you've spent on Marianne. Now you want us to fly your ass to Peoria?"

"Fine," Kyle said angrily. "I'll just book the flight when we land in Nashville and head out then."

Retter shook his head. "Are you insane? Joe will fire you for this."

"Then let him."

Retter's face hardened. "Think about this for a minute, Kyle. You'll lose everything. Is she worth it?"

He didn't even have to hesitate. "She's worth everything in the world to me."

To his surprise, Retter stepped back and smiled.

Three seconds later the rear emergency door was ripped off the airplane and a smoking canister was thrown into the aisle way.

Before Kyle could reach for his weapon, a small commando dressed all in black tripped through the doorway carrying an M-16.

She paused at the opening and stared agape at the plane. "Wow, this is really nice."

Kyle smiled the instant he recognized that less-than-fierce voice. Not to mention he'd know that body anywhere, even when it was decked out in ill-fitting fatigues and her face was covered in black paint.

It was Marianne.

And she was joined by another commando he recognized as Dieter, also dressed in full commando gear. "Terrorists," Dieter whispered to her loudly, "hostage, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, gripping her weapon and looking fierce, or at least as fierce as a high-school teacher could look. "Don't anyone..." She started coughing from the smoke as she moved through it.

Dieter pounded her lightly on the back and nudged her out of it. "It's okay. Breathe deeply."

Marianne coughed a few more times and nodded. "Don't..." She coughed more.

"She says don't move," Dieter finished for her.

She started toward Kyle, only to be stopped the instant her gun got wedged between the two seats on opposite ends of the row. She whoofed as it caught against her middle.

"That thing's not loaded, is it?" Kyle asked Retter.

"Hell, no. I told you I spent the day with her. Last thing I want is to be shot dead by friendly fire."

Dieter helped her get unhooked.

Retter held his hands up.

"You!" Marianne said, waving Retter aside with her gun. "Stay out of my way or I'll blow your head off."

"Yes, ma'am." Retter moved toward Reno.

Marianne took another step forward with her gun a little higher this time. "I'm Ren "Winterbourne, Secret Agent, and... um... um... um..."

She paused, thinking. "Wait a second... I'm Ren Witnerbourne, Secret Agent, and..."

"And I'm here for the hostage!" Reno shouted out.

Kyle turned to see Reno in the cockpit with a copy of the book for Marianne's fantasy.

Marianne took a step toward him, but Dieter caught her and showed her how to walk down the aisle without catching the gun on the seats.

"Move, you scum," Reno prompted again.

Kyle stared at Marianne as she came even with him. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Hey," Reno said, raising his voice. "Move, you scum. This is the part where you make the terrorists get down on the ground and tie them up."

"Bullshit," Retter said. "This is the part where she shoots the pilot."

"Nein," Dieter joined in, moving past them toward the other two. He pulled a copy of the book out of his back pocket and opened it up to a bookmarked page. "She makes you get down, Retter, and eat the floor. It says so right here. You must get down."

"Yeah and this is the part where you get sent back to Pakistan, Adolph.

I'm not kissing dirt for nobody."

"I am not Adolph, I am Dieter."

Kyle was only vaguely aware of the others arguing about the book. His attention was solely on the woman before him.

"Were you really going to fly to Peoria?" she asked him.

"Well, yeah. I thought that's where you were. Aislinn told me you were on Wulfgar's plane."

She smiled. "I am, kind of. We both are."

Kyle glanced around the luxurious jet. He hadn't noticed just how nice it was earlier. It should have dawned on him the minute he entered it.

But then Marianne always had a way of distracting him.

"You know," she said quietly, "I always wanted to be the heroine in the book."

"Funny, I only want the woman who is reading the book."

She smiled up at him and his groin jerked.

"So how does the story end?" he asked her.

"You kiss her, sheez!" the guys said in unison.

"Didn't he read the book?" Dieter asked. "It says right here-"

"Shut up, Dieter," Retter snapped. "I think we should leave them alone."

Laughing, Marianne stepped into his arms and held him tight. "It ends like all good romances do. We live happily ever after."

Let's Talk About Sex

Liz Carlyle

Chapter One

"Hi, this is Let's Talk About Sex!" The polished, professional voice oozed out over the airwaves. "Our next caller is Brian from Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Brian, you're on the air with Dr. Delia Sydney."

Inside the glass-walled sound booth, Delia listened through her headphones to Brian's loud, ragged breathing. "Um, yeah," he finally said, huffing the words into his telephone. "Um, is this Dr. Delia?"

"Good afternoon, Brian," said Delia smoothly. "You're our next caller.

Did you have a question or a comment?"

"Uh, well, yeah." Brian from Murfreesboro was definitely struggling.

"I, like, had this question. I w-wanted to ask, um, about guys. When they, you know, are j-jerking-"

"Ah, I see," Delia gently interjected. "A question about masturbation?"

"Yeah, that." Brian exhaled too loudly into his telephone again. "Well, uh, anyways, my, um, my uncle told me something one time. About-er, about it. He said if you did it, you know, a lot, that it could make you go, like, blind or something."

"Well, that's a common old wives' tale," said Delia, speaking calmly into her microphone. "But there's no truth to it, Brian. I expect your uncle was just teasing."

"Um... Dr. Delia, are you sure?"

Delia paused for a split second. "Is masturbation a problem for you, Brian?" she asked coolly. "What I mean is, do you feel guilty about doing it? Because you shouldn't, you know. It is a perfectly natural thing for a healthy young man to do in private. And it isn't anyone else's business."

"Oh, no, I don't do it," said Brian, his voice leaping an octave. "I was, like, you know, just wondering if my uncle was lying. That's all."

"I see." Delia's patience slipped a notch. "Brian, has your uncle gone blind?"

"Um... nope."

"Then he's lying."