"Mm-hmm." But he didn't look out. "Not many women can wear a short haircut like that."

She shot him a glance. "I meant the-"

"Did you cut it for the reunion?"

"No."

"Just before, though."

How could he know that? "I wanted a change. And how did you know that anyway?"

"Your pictures."

She screwed up her brow.

He shifted higher in his seat, seemingly waking up. "You had a package of photos on your counter. And they were dated."

He was right. She had picked them up the day before he came. The police department picnic. "You looked at my pictures?"

"Some great shots of Dan."

She cast him a glance. "They were good, weren't they?"

"And your pool pose. Nice swimsuit."

"Thank you." She refused to blush.

"Could have seen it better without Dan hanging all over."

"Does this have a point?" She couldn't help frowning.

He laughed softly, then rubbed his temple.

"Is it a migraine?"

"No, Jill. Just the usual Crown Royal variety."

Crown Royal. He had a hangover? Morgan? "Oh. I'm ... so you ..."

"Did it to myself?" He snapped his fingers. "There go all the sympathy points."

She had no idea where to go from there, so she said nothing.

After a while he said, "Pull over at the next turnout. I'll take over."

"I'm fine."

His eyes trailed her slowly. "Yes, you are. But I'd like to drive."

This time there was no stopping the flush up her neck. What had gotten into him anyway? "Morgan, I think it would be better ... it makes me uncomfortable ..." When my mouth and my brain disconnect?She could give a flawless PowerPoint presentation for the entire school and never miss a word.

"Here's one on the right." He pointed.

She slowed into the turnout and brought the car to a stop. They both got out and Morgan waited at her door until she slid in. Then he closed the door and walked around.

"I'll be glad to drive again."

He slid into his seat. "That's already more than anyone else has done."

"Don't I feel special." Then when he didn't answer, she stammered, "For getting to drive the car, for being the only one who ..." She clamped her lips shut.

Wrist draped over the wheel, he turned to her, indigo eyes like the night sky over Antarctica. "It didn't mean anything."

Of course it didn't. If there were a hole handy she'd climb right in. Maybe the drop-off would do. But she nodded mutely, her throat squeezing, then focused on the scenery as he pulled out much faster than she would have dared.

He knew exactly what she had intended to say. Don't do or say anything that might suggest there was something between them. "It makes me uncomfortable ..." The throbbing in his head had dulled to a nagging burn-nothing he couldn't deal with. What he couldn't deal with were her flippant remarks. "Don't I feel special?"

He shoved his breath out through his teeth, then wove out and around a slower car plugging along the divided mountain grade, letting the silence of the road take the edge from his mood. How much time would he give Ascon, Inc. to respond? Another month, possibly. After that Marlina Aster could find another turnaround specialist. He had more pressing concerns at the moment anyway.

Last night's call to Bern Gershwin had set things in motion financially. "Are you crazy? You're liquidating that kind of money to gift a foundation without-"

"I want it ready, Bern. The procedure is on Thursday. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to start with. The funds have to be there."

"Paternity is not legally established. You're throwing in the only card you might hold in order to force an interview."

Those words had sunk in. "I can't worry about that now." He could sue later if it came to it, show that they had accepted his gift.

"Well, here's what you can worry about. If you sell those tech stocks now when they're in the basement, that's a hit you will not recover from. Your portfolio is less than half its worth already."

"Thanks for the reminder."

"You're not thinking this through, Morgan. Get with me at the first chance. I'll make room. Someone needs to be objective."

"That's a luxury I don't have." But he promised to play racquetball when he got back in town.

No, he was not objective at the moment. His daughter needed more than his marrow, and the funds had to be transferred for Kelsey's care to go forward. Try to handle that objectively. Jill had placed her in a family that scratched by, had mortgaged everything already for her care, and couldn't even find decent insurance. Drywall.

He darted out around a van huffing along in the left lane and noticed Jill's knuckles pale on the edge of her seat. There was quite a drop-off to the right. He slid back over smoothly. He had no intention of putting them over the edge. Not before his marrow was safely inside his daughter.

Of course, there was still the agreement to be available for several more years if further draws were necessary, and more immediately for plasma and the like. The fewer different blood factors she had to deal with the better. And all of that took money, and most of his money was accounted for in nonliquid assets, such as his mortgaged four-million-dollar home, and growth stocks that had flattened for the moment. He had seen the tech-market crash coming and held only the ones he thought would rebound. They hadn't yet, and this was not a good time to liquidate.

But no one had consulted him. He eased up on the gas and sensed Jill's relief. He hadn't been that far over the top, but then she probably had little experience with the Rocky Mountain curves and plunges.

He put in an Eagles CD and cranked up "Hotel California." He was almost ready to eat, and Jill had to be, too. He glanced at her again. That fierce control was worse than her insouciant remarks. He reached over and touched her hand. "Are you hungry?"

"I guess."

"Fast food, or do you want to go in somewhere?"

She swallowed. "It doesn't matter."

Something besides hunger twisted his stomach, something like guilt. Oh, there was always guilt connected with Jill. But he had been harsher than he intended. She was only trying to get along. As the needle of his speedometer reached ninety, he eased off the gas again and put the Thunderbird on cruise. He settled back in his seat and realized there would not be many food opportunities for a while. Well, she hadn't sounded famished, only hurt.

He sighed. This madcap idea was proving harder than he'd thought. At least she stayed focused on the scenery, which gradually changed from forested mountain slopes to stark red mesa canyons through Glenwood Springs and beyond. In Grand Junction, he exited and found a Taco Bell drive-up.

Jill said, "I need to use their rest room."

"Okay." He pulled through and parked instead. They could stretch and take care of all their needs with one stop. She was out before he had the engine turned off. He watched her cross the parking lot on her long, fluid legs in those halfway-down-the-calf pants. If anything, her legs were more defined and shapely than before. Not that it helped to notice.

He climbed out and took in the towering stone walls that surrounded the area like a bowl, desolate eroded cliffs with flat mesa tops surrounding the green land of the irrigated valley. The edge of civilization was stark; one side of the highway lush with grass, trees, and orchards, the other rutted peaks of dirt, stone, and heat. Amazing.

He went inside, visited the men's room, and met Jill at the counter. She'd already purchased a couple tacos, accomplishing her intention of going dutch. He ordered three tacos and a Pepsi, and by the time he joined her at the table, she was halfway into her first taco.

As she reached for her water cup, he caught her hand. "I'm sorry for being irascible."

"It's all right. Morgan ..." She tugged her fingers in his hold. Touchy, wasn't she?

He caught it between both of his. "You said friends. Dan was way friendlier than this."

Her eyes flattened. "It's hard to eat tacos one-handed."

He smiled. She did have a point. He let go and bit into the crunchy taco, warm spicy meat and cold lettuce with a touch of cheese. He chewed it slowly, studying her face. He still had two left when she finished, but she got up and cleared her trash, then seemed lost whether to sit down again. He stood and motioned her to the chair. "Don't worry, I only bite in the morning."

She sat down, probably wishing she had not rushed through her meal and left her hands with nothing to do.

"Would you like something more?"

She shook her head. "No thanks."

"Did you get your letters done?"

Her gaze finally lighted. "Some of them. I had some mail to deal with, as well." A flush crept over her features.

Must have been personal. "Dan?"

Her brow puckered. "What? No, it wasn't Dan. Morgan ..."

"I know. Off limits."

"It's just not what you think."

He cocked his head. "Those photos were strongly incriminating."

Another flush. "Well, Dan is ... physical. But we're not ... we weren't ..." She huffed her frustration.

"Intimate?"

She snatched his taco wrappers and wadded them, shoved them into the bag, and wadded it so tightly it popped.

He caught her wrist. "Do you think I care whether you and Dan got it on?"

She jerked her hand away with a look somewhere between kicked puppy and attack dog. Obviously not a wise choice of words.

"Jill, your love life is your business. I was just making conversation."

She got to her feet, stalked to the trash bin and deposited the bag, then walked out. Morgan took a last drag on his soda, then tossed it in the trash and followed her. She stood at the car, way more shaken than circumstances warranted.

He had the keyless remote in hand, but he didn't unlock the door. "Jill." He fingered the buttons on the remote. "I don't know what has you so frosted."

She turned her face away.

"Why don't you tell me so I can avoid it next time." He hadn't meant to be cruel. If he had a clue, he'd undo it. "Did you want me to care? Is that it?"

She pressed her hands to her eyes. "It was your automatic assumption."

He backpedaled and met her thoughts. That she and Dan had something going? So what?

She sucked a jagged breath and faced him. "I've spent fifteen years avoiding indiscretion. Rebuilding trust and respect."

He searched her face, catching her thrust.

"Dan hugged and kissed me. Nothing more-with him or anyone else."

It shouldn't hurt, but it did. Jill was too warm, too loving to have closed herself off in some attempt to recapture her virtue. Fifteen years avoiding indiscretion? No wonder she was so uptight. "Why didn't you marry someone?"

Her breaths came sharp and quick. "I just ... there wasn't ..."

He pulled her softly to his chest and closed her into his arms. "All right, don't try to talk. Just breathe."

"With you holding me?"

Smiling, he cradled her head. "Aw, c'mon, Jill. What are friends for?"

"We don't do friends well, Morgan."

True. He wanted nothing more than to turn her face up and kiss her. That would probably merit CPR. He pressed his cheek to the crown of her head, trying to understand what she'd told him, and understanding too well. The trauma of their relationship had rendered her unable to accept another.

He closed his eyes, knowing that trauma too well.

"Please, Morgan."

He let her go and touched the button to disarm the alarm and unlock her door. She slid in with obvious relief. There ought to be something more he could say, but silence stretched between them. After twenty minutes of driving, she was asleep.

CHAPTER.