yet again she should have left well enough alone. But she couldn't help herself when her mind circled back

to the question that had been plaguing her.

Maybe it was her pride, or maybe the reporter in her couldn't be held back any longer by dictates to be sweet and affable, but she asked, "Jesse, if you're so determined to keep distant from your past, then really, why did you come back?"

His body went taut. Seconds ticked by before he said, "Everyone needs a vacation."

"Seems to me that most people go to the Bahamas or Tahiti to get away."

"Not when they're trying to avoid the media."

"Is it really so hard to be a hero? Do you really have to fight off so much attention that you had to run away?" She was on a roll and couldn't seem to stop herself. "Why do I think there's something you aren't telling me?"

She could see his jaw start to work, the towel gripped between his two hands.

"Because you were always filled with dreams inside a head that you fooled everyone into thinking was sensible." He secured the terry cloth around his neck. "Now, unless you want to hang around and get the sort of show that I'm beginning to think you secretly want, I'd suggest you head on back to your house. Wouldn't want you breaking any of those no-sex rules of yours."

To add muscle to his point, he unzipped his shorts, the khaki slipping low on his hips, his thumbs hooking under stark white Jockeys. And just when she turned to make a hasty retreat, she caught a glimpse of his beautifully chiseled anatomy as he tossed his shorts aside.

To: Katherine Bloom From: Julia Boudreaux Subject: Getting your wish I've thought about it, and I agree that a pet show for the next segment of Getting Real with Kate will be perfect. I even have a great idea. It's fresh and original. You are going to love it, as will the audience!

xo, j To: Julia Boudreaux From: Katherine Bloom Subject: Thank you

I appreciate this, Julia. Pets are much more me than naked or wanting-to-get-naked sorts of men.

I promise I'll do the station proud this time.

Now, tell me a bit about whom I'll be interviewing. I want to be prepared and have a list of proper questions to ask. Maybe I should go over to the library and get a few books on pet care so I'll look knowledgeable.

Many thanks, K

Katherine C. Bloom News Anchor, KTEX TV West Texas

To: Katherine Bloom Chloe Sinclair From: Julia Boudreaux Subject: Girl Scout Kate, sugar, I think it's best you go in unprepared. It's all your Girl Scout sort of planning that gets you in trouble. Think of this segment as a time to relax and have fun. Then on Thursday, the night before, let's go out and have a pre-show celebration. Just the three of us. I promise not to end the night early with a date. It will be fun.

xoxo, j To: Julia Boudreaux Chloe Sinclair From: Katherine Bloom Subject: Unprepared!

How can I go in unprepared? Though maybe you're right. Perhaps it's best if I just let it flow. It's only pets after all.

As to Thursday night with the girls, I would love to, but Travis has his first day of golf camp and I want to be at home to see how it went.

K.

To: Katherine Bloom Chloe Sinclair From: Julia Boudreaux Subject: Hmmm Aren't you the little domestic these days. Staying home to make sure all is well in the domicile. Though it's fine. Turns out Roberto called after all.

xoxo, j To: Julia Boudreaux Katherine Bloom From: Chloe Sinclair Subject: Bad boys Admit it, Jules, for someone who keeps telling Kate and me to find someone to settle down with, you sure keep yourself distant from any truly marriageable men. The only guys you date are passionate artists and rugged cowboys who make it clear they aren't interested in settling down.

Chloe, the observant To: Chloe Sinclair From: Julia Boudreaux Subject: Snippy You're not observant, you're making things up. I am only twenty-seven, young enough to date anyone I choose. Now get back to work. You have Kate's pet show to arrange. I sent my ideas in a separate e-mail.

xo, j

EIGHT.

"Sanders, Travis!"

"Here."

Travis looked around the small group of other kids who stood on the driving range of the Canutillo Golf School. A big burly guy who didn't look like he knew the first thing about golf, much less had the ability to hold a club due to his girth, called roll.

A group of boys stood off to the side. Travis could tell on sight that they were the cool kids. Uncool kids had a second sense about these things. Normally, he would have steered clear of the group, but he had the next few weeks, if that long, to show his dad what a great kid he was. And didn't great kids have cool friends?

Once roll call was done and their coach said to get into foursomes, Travis drew up his nerve and walked over to the three coolest guys.

"Hey," he said, shuffling his feet, his hand flying up nervously as he waved.

The kid who must have been their leader shot him a scowl. "What do you want, twerp?"

"Ah, you know. A foursome."

"You pervert!"

The boys laughed.

"What's so funny?" the coach asked.

"Nothing, sir," one boy said with exaggerated politeness.

Coach considered them, grumbled, then went on. "Sanders, I'm putting you with Hartman, Puskus, and

Fisk."

Great. One glance and any idiot could tell they were not cool at all. Proof came when the cool guys

announced variations of their names. None of them good. At least Travis didn't have a name that could be twisted into anything embarrassing.

"Hey, perve," they whispered at him.

Okay, so they didn't need a name to contort.

The rest of the afternoon didn't go much better. The clubs assigned to him were old, and when he did

manage to connect with the ball, a metallic shudder raced up through his arms into his shoulders,

sparking a head-splitting pain.

"No, Sanders, don't slap at the ball. Stroke it," Coach said.

Though what exactly that meant, Travis didn't know, since whenever the man swung the club he looked more like a baseball player than any golfer Travis had ever seen.

But he tried nonetheless, determined to make inroads with the cool guys.

After hitting a few balls, it was someone else's turn to step up to the tee. Travis fell back.

"You can swing pretty good," he told the number one cool guy.

The compliment didn't go unappreciated, though it didn't get a response.

"My dad would probably be impressed."

Still nothing. Okay, time to go in for the kill.

"Yeah, my dad, he can really play golf. Everyone says so."

"Like who?" Jimmy, the head cool guy, begrudgingly asked.

Travis shrugged, his heart pounding hard. It was happening. They were talking to him. And in a second

when they found out about Jesse, his place would be secured. "The newspapers and stuff. They write about him all the time."

"Who is your dad?"

"Jesse Chapman."

For half a second awe simmered through their eyes, then they burst out laughing. "Yeah, sure. You

related to Chapman? No way, perve."

"It's the truth. Everyone says I look just like him."

"He isn't even married." Then Jimmy got sly. "What are you, some kind of accident?"

Travis's fluttering heart turned into a heart attack. He hadn't thought about that part. He hadn't realized

where this would lead.

"You are!" the boys screamed in glee, laughing.

"You're a perve and a bastard."

They really thought that was funny.