He didn't have to wonder if Jill was back, for she stood in the hall, hand extended, his cell phone in her grasp. "It was ringing in your bag, so I answered."

He took it. "Yeah?"

"Morgan?"

"Hey, Todd. How's it goin'?" He mouthed, "I'll take it outside."

Todd's response was mildly encouraging as Morgan walked out to the front stoop to give Jill some privacy. He told him he was getting to watch TV and grudgingly added that he was also using the reading program.

"Glad to hear it." And he was. He needed some good news.

"And guess what?" Todd went on. "Rick's gonna show me how to train the foals."

"Yeah? That's great. Just don't let him make you break 'em. Too much pain."

Todd laughed. "I'm not getting on any horse."

Morgan said, "You might like it."

"No way."

"Aw, c'mon. If Stan can do it ..."

Todd snorted. "I could do it if I wanted."

Morgan smiled. "I bet you'll be riding barrels by summer's end."

Todd laughed again. It sent a pang to Morgan's heart. "You eating well?"

"Better than before. I'm glad you got Marta."

"I thought you'd be."

"Are you with your daughter?" That question sent another pang. Obviously vulnerable this morning.

"No. She's in a treatment center in Connecticut. I'm in lovely Iowa, with the cows and the corn, but I'm heading home today."

"Through here?"

Morgan half smiled. "No, Todd. Sorry." The silence drew out. "But maybe sometime you could come see me on the coast."

"Really?"

"It's up to Stan." Morgan smiled again. Had he inadvertently given Todd a reason to toe the line with his foster dad? "It can't be for a while." Not while he was donating bone marrow and figuring out his life. "But if you and Stan get along, I'll bet we can work it out sometime."

"Excellent!"

Morgan laughed. "Who's paying your phone bill?"

"I'm working it off."

"Then I'll let you go."

"Okay. Bye, Morgan."

"Bye, kid." He turned off the phone and found Jill lingering in her doorway, toweling her hair.

"Who's Todd?"

"A foster kid who's staying at Rick's ranch this summer. Having a hard time."

Her eyes searched his face, then, "I'll just get some things packed up."

He followed her in, zipped closed his caramel-colored leather bag, and carried it to his trunk. While he rearranged things to make room for Jill's luggage, a police cruiser pulled into the lot and parked. Jill's bodyguard, Dan, climbed out, muscles flexing inside the stiff uniform. He took the few steps between them. "Leaving?"

Morgan pressed the trunk closed. "In a little while."

Dan inspected the car with a mixture of appreciation and irritation. Love the machine; hate its driver.

Morgan understood.

Dan rested his substantial palm on the Thunderbird's windshield. "Is Jill inside?"

"She's packing."

Dan's hand on the windshield clenched, but he showed no surprise. "Haven't you messed her up enough?"

Morgan's throat tightened. Yeah, he probably had. But things weren't finished between them.

Dan pushed off from the windshield and went to Jill's door. He opened it with familiarity and confidence and went inside. Morgan got into his car and drove up to the strip mall for gas.

Jill flattened one last shirt into her bag, wondering again if she was doing the right thing. Was it truly her chance to be part of Kelsey's cure? Or was it just that Morgan had asked? She couldn't be with Kelsey, but she could be with him. She had told him she would go, and now she heard him behind her. "I'm almost done."

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

She spun to find Dan, not Morgan, behind her.

"You're throwing all your principles to the wind to run off and give comfort to this guy ...."

He must have talked to Shelly. "I want to be part of Kelsey's healing. It's not about Morgan."

"Does he know that?"

She nodded. "He just offered me the chance to be involved. With Kelsey's cure."

He shook his head. "You are the real thing."

"What thing?" She reached down and tugged the luggage zipper.

"The ultimate innocent. This man got you pregnant, Jill. He probably didn't bother to protect, then left you to deal with the consequences."

"It wasn't like that."

"Then I don't know you at all, 'cause I sure don't think you seduced him against his will."

She jerked the zipper hard and shot her gaze to him. "You know what I did, Dan? I went to my senior counselor. I told her I was in love with Morgan and didn't know where to draw the line. She told me if I loved him, I needed birth control pills. Only I knew that my parents would die if they found me with birth control." She didn't expect Dan to understand.

"So I didn't get the pill. But when things got too serious with Morgan, I lied. I told him I was on it." She swallowed the humiliation of saying that out loud again. "Because the adult I trusted told me if I loved him-and I did-I would have done that."

"What else was she supposed to do?" He spread his hands.

"How about reinforce chastity? What I'd been taught at home and at church."

"Oh, come on, Jill. Do you think that would have stopped you?"

She glared. "Yes, Dan. I do. She could have told me true love waits, and it was all right to respect myself and Morgan enough to say no."

Dan looked away. "So what now? You have this respect?"

Jill's heart stabbed. "Trust me, Dan. There's too much pain between us for anything to happen."

"I trust you. Not Morgan Spencer."

"Well, it isn't your problem." She hauled the bag off the bed and set it on its wheels.

"Jill, I meant it when I asked you to marry me."

"I know, Dan. But we have no philosophical basis for that kind of covenant." She walked past him. "I hope we can be friends when I come back."

"If you come back."

She closed her eyes and dropped her chin. "I'll be back, Dan. And I'll probably need a friend."

She pulled the suitcase down the hall, saw Morgan through the window leaning against his car, waiting. "I need to lock up."

Dan passed her with a final exhaled breath that said he'd done his best. He went out, glared at Morgan, then got into his cruiser and drove around to pick up Brett for their shift.

Morgan took her bag. "Everything okay?"

She sighed. "He's afraid I'll seduce you."

Morgan slanted her a glance. "I can take care of myself."

"Whew." She passed the back of her hand across her forehead and gave him a wan smile. "Then I guess it's fine."

He closed her luggage into the trunk and walked her around to the door. "Everything's covered at work?"

"Oh, definitely. It was even done for me." Where was that cynically flippant tone coming from?

"Jill?" Morgan must have caught the edge.

She shook her head. "I'm ready. I won't be gone that long, and my life"-she looked up at the townhouse before settling into the seat- "will be here waiting."

Morgan joined her in the Thunderbird. "Let's go."

CHAPTER.

19.

Jill's stomach knotted as Morgan turned the car out of her parking lot and started down the street. The sky was a muted blue, but the forecast had said rain, and already the milky moisture was thickening. They might not have the top down long. Her stomach knotted again. Stormy days were hard on her kids.

Today her students would get the news that she was gone for more than just yesterday. Rascal would try to adapt to Shelly's place, and Dan would grumble all day to Brett. She'd become the storm cloud in all of their lives, but she pushed the thought away and focused on her purpose. She was going for Kelsey, to be part of the cure for her daughter. She had dragged Morgan back into it, and the least she could do was walk through it with him.

The smell of cut grass wafted as they passed the droning mower and approached the corner where a bony-kneed scamp waved a lemonade sign their way. "It's cold! Only ten cents!"

Jill smiled at the girls behind him, sitting at the plastic table, primly holding the pitcher and the stack of flowered Dixie cups as their front man jumped out at the car.

Morgan swung to the side and stopped. Before Jill could react, he climbed out of the car and squatted in front of the sign waver. "So you're in business for yourself now."

"Ten cents." He couldn't be more than six or seven.

"Well, let me tell you something. Ten cents doesn't cover your costs." He tipped the sign to see the back side. "You make a new sign and ask a quarter for that size cup." He reached into his pocket for his wallet. "We'll take two." He took out a dollar and glanced at the girls. "If any of you can tell me at twenty-five cents a glass how much my change would be, I'll let you keep it."

The girl in braids who was already pouring their cups full said, "Fifty cents."

Morgan clicked his fingers. "You got it." He took the lemonades, gave the kids a wink, and got back into the car. Jill took the cup he handed her.

"Do not spill a drop." He gave her a sidelong glance with the admonition and drank his glass in one long draught.

Cold, sweet, tangy. Jill closed her eyes and drank. It was just what her stomach needed after the Frappuccino and no breakfast. The knots eased. Five hundred percent profit on their first sale. Morgan had just made their day. Three little kids he'd never seen before, yet he'd be the topic of discussion over their peanut butter sandwiches.

Morgan always left an impression. She remembered the day after their first dance, sitting on the porch with Mom while Dad was still at the church for a deacons' meeting. She had hardly kept her eyes open through the service, and every time they closed she saw Morgan. She was dreaming of him the moment Mom's soft voice said, "Morgan Spencer certainly thinks a lot of himself."

Jill had startled. "What do you mean?"

Mom shrugged her eyebrows. "Just the way he carries himself as though he's got the world all figured out already." She couldn't believe how much it hurt that Mom would say something critical of Morgan after only meeting him once. But that had been her impression, and she never wavered from it. Looking at Morgan now, it seemed she'd been right. He did have the whole world figured out, while she was still floundering.

He nested her cup in his and headed for the nearest trash can, the gas station at the strip mall. When he reached I-80 west, he set the cruise control. Jill glanced over as Morgan slid in the CD that was resting in the player, and the strains filled the car even with the roof off. What had he paid for such a stereo? And the music ...