"Oh my," she said, breaking away from him. She smeared the traces of tears away from her cheeks and from some hidden reserve of strength offered him an apologetic smile. "I wonder what that was all about."

Trey didn't respond. Instead he tucked his finger beneath her chin and lowered his mouth to hers. They'd kissed before, and the hot sensation between them had shocked Jenny. He kissed her again and again, each kiss gaining in intensity and momentum until she was struggling for control.

"Jenny, sweet Jenny," he whispered, his voice husky and low. "I don't think you know what kissing you does to me."

"I do know, because you do the same thing to me." She ran her tongue along the underside of his jaw and felt his body tense against hers. She'd never experienced such a powerful sense of control over a man.

He cupped her face between his hands for another deep, breath-stealing kiss.

"Tell me why you were crying," he whispered.

Jenny closed her eyes. Her hands bit into the material of his shirt, her hold so tight that her fingers lost feeling. "I ... I'm going to miss you, Trey."

He stiffened, and she wondered if she'd said something wrong. "You don't need to worry," she hurried to assure him. "I'm a big girl, really."

He led her into the living room and sat her down in the chair, then he started moving around as though he needed to sit himself but couldn't find an available seat.

"Trey?"

He held out his hand. "I've got something to ask you. I was going to wait until tonight at dinner, but now seems as good a time as any."

"Ask me what?"

He looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I'm not sure how to do this. I've never done it before, and hell"-he paused and dragged a deep breath through his lungs-"I damn well never plan to do it again."

"You've never done what?"

"Propose," he snapped, then seemed to realize what he'd said. He ceased his roaming and stood directly in front of her. "I love you, Jenny Lancaster. I've loved you from the time you were fifteen years old... ."

"Fifteen? But you never let on ... you never told me."

He frowned. "If I'd said anything, your father would have had me arrested, as well he should have. I never wanted you to leave Montana, but you deserved your chance. You've had it, and now it's time to come home. With me, with the promise you'll be my wife." His eyes grew dark and serious as he got down on one knee in front of her. "Come home with me, Jenny. Marry me, and mother my children. I don't have a lot to offer you, except a heart that will always be yours."

Jenny was too stunned to respond. She pressed her hand over her mouth and battled down a fresh batch of emotion.

The front door opened and Trey stood up abruptly and, irritated, glanced over his shoulder.

"Hello, everyone," Michelle greeted as she whirled into the room like a prairie dust storm. She hesitated and looked from Trey and Jenny. "I'm not disrupting anything, am I?"

"Yes," Trey answered before Jenny could.

"Oh, sorry. Do you want me to discreetly disappear for a few moments?"

"That would be much appreciated." Again it was Trey who responded.

Michelle had just started to tiptoe from the room when the telephone rang. "I'll get it," she said, and then tossed Trey an apologetic look. "I've been waiting for a call all week."

Trey rubbed his hand along the back of his neck and gave her an impatient nod.

Michelle answered on the second ring, and her gaze swiveled automatically toward Jenny. She placed her hand over the mouthpiece. "It's for you."

"Me?" Jenny asked.

"It's Irene."

Jenny leapt off the sofa and hurried to the phone. "Irene," she said eagerly, unable to hide her delight. When her agent phoned it was generally with good news.

"Jenny." Irene sounded excited. "I just got off the phone with John Peterman. He's wants you for the second lead in his new play. This is it, kiddo. All your hard work has finally paid off. We couldn't ask for better money or better terms. You're on your way now."

Dumbstruck, Jenny listened while Irene relayed the details of her contract. When her agent had finished, Jenny replaced the receiver and turned to Michelle, who stood beside her expectantly.

"I got the second lead," she whispered, her voice revealing the extent of her shock. "John Peterman wants me."

Michelle let out a wild scream and hugged her enthusiastically. Then the two of them did a dance about the room, laughing, crying, their joy spilling over like champagne poured too fast from the bottle.

A good five minutes passed before Jenny remembered Trey, and then she couldn't find him.

"Where'd he go?" Jenny asked her roommate.

Michelle gave her a blank look. "I don't know. He must have left."

The minute Brynn walked into the school she knew something was very wrong. One of the secretaries sat at her desk, weeping silently. A handful of teachers stood in the corner of the office, talking in whispers. The tension in the room was thick enough to slice and butter.

Not knowing what was wrong, Brynn walked over to her cubicle and cleared out the space. As she suspected, there were a number of printed sheets detailing information about the winter break. The teachers' Christmas party was scheduled for that evening. Since her surname began with a C, she was responsible for supplying a main dish. Another paper detailed the period schedule for the last day.

Brynn slipped the papers into her bag. A white envelope fluttered from her space and landed on the floor. It was addressed to her personally, and she wondered who had put it there. On closer inspection, she realized the handwriting was familiar. It took a moment to recognize it was from Mike Glasser.

"Did you hear?" Doug Keast asked as he reached for his own papers.

"Hear about what?" Brynn had never been particularly fond of Doug. Not since the day he'd been so eager to have Emilio hauled off to the office. She had no problem with the school's policy regarding fighting, but she questioned the other teacher's attitude. It seemed Doug had welcomed the opportunity to see Emilio expelled.

"Mike Glasser."

"What about him?" she asked.

"He blew his brains out." Doug pointed his finger to his temple and pulled an imaginary trigger. "His mother found him late yesterday afternoon." Doug hesitated. "Say, isn't he one of the kids in your program?"

Mike, dead? A suicide? It was as if Doug had pulled the floor out from under her. The information came at her like a fist in the dark.

Brynn gasped and slumped against the wall. It demanded every ounce of strength she possessed to remain upright. Involuntarily she started to hyperventilate, and she reached out and grabbed hold of the back of a chair.

"Brynn?" Doug's arm came around her. "Here, sit down. Do you need something?"

"Water. Could you please get me a glass of water?" A shocking, total numbness shrouded her.

"Of course. Listen, I'm sorry." Doug steered her to a table and sat her down. "I guess I shouldn't have told you like that." His voice was full of apology.