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  "You want to marry him and have a house and babies and all the trimmings, right?"

  "That's my business. Hal's and mine."

  "Dammit, I'm not trying to interfere into your personal life. I'm trying to keep my kid brother from getting blown away. Now, whether anybody likes it or not, I'm still a member of this family and you're going to answer me."

  She quelled beneath his anger, but felt ashamed, too, for shutting him out of family matters as his parents so often did. When it boiled down to it, she was the outsider, not Cage. She met his eyes levelly. "Of course that's what I want, Cage. I've waited years to get married."

  "All right, then," he said more calmly, "put your foot down. Issue an ultimatum. Tell him you won't be here when he gets back. Let him know how you feel about this."

  She was shaking her head. "This is something he feels led to do."

  "Then lead him astray, Jenny. I'm thinking of him as much as you. Hell, if presidents and diplomats and mercenaries and God knows who else can't straighten out that mess down there in Central America, how the hell does Hal think he's going to? He's going into something he knows absolutely nothing about."

  "God will protect him."

  "You're only repeating what you've heard him say. I know my Bible, too, Jenny. It was drilled into me. At one time I actually studied the Hebrew war generals. Yes, they pulled off a few miraculous battles, but Hal hasn't got an army behind him. He doesn't even have the endorsement of the U.S. Gov­ernment. God gave each of us a brain to reason with and what Hal's doing is unreasonable."

  Jenny agreed with him wholeheartedly. But Cage was an expert at twisting words and truths to make them fit his own ends. Aligning herself with Cage's way of thinking was flirting with heresay. Besides, her loyalty had to be with Hal and the cause he had dedicated himself to.

  "Good night, Cage."

  "How long have you lived with us, Jenny?"

  She paused again. "Since I was fourteen. Almost twelve years."

  The Hendrens had taken her in when both her parents were killed. One day while she was at school, a gas heater had exploded in their house and it had burned to the ground. Later she remembered hearing the fire truck and ambulance sirens during Algebra class. She hadn't known then that it was al­ready too late for her parents and a younger sister, who had stayed home that day with a sore throat. Her daddy had come home on his lunch hour to check on her. By nightfall, Jenny was left alone in the world, without a thing to her name except the clothes she had worn to school that day.

  The Fletchers had been friendly with their pastor, Bob Hen­dren and his wife, Sarah. Since Jenny had no living relatives, there had been little discussion about her future.

  "I remember coming home from college for Thanksgiving break and finding you here," Cage said. "Mother had con­verted her sewing room into a bedroom fit for a princess. She finally had the daughter she had always wanted. I was told to treat you like one of the family."

  "Your parents have been very good to me," Jenny con­ceded in a small voice.

  "Is that why you never stand up to them?"

  She was offended and it showed. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

  "Oh, yes, you do. It's been twelve years since you made a decision of your own. Are you afraid they'll kick you out if you disagree with them?"

  "That's ridiculous," she exclaimed, flabbergasted.

  "No, it isn't. It's sad," Cage said, jutting his hard, square chin into the air. "They decided who your friends could and could not be, the kind of clothes you wore, the college you went to, even who you were going to marry. And now it looks like they'll decide when the wedding will take place. Are you going to let them plan your kids, too?"

  "Stop it, Cage. None of that is true and I won't listen to any more of it. Have you been drinking?"

  "Unfortunately, no. But I wish to hell I had been." He moved toward her and gripped her arm. "Jenny, wake up. They're smothering you. You're a woman, a damn good-looking woman. So what if you do something they disapprove of? You're not fourteen now. They can't punish you. If they did kick you out, which they never would, so what? You could go someplace else."

  "Be an independent woman, is that it?"

  "I guess that capsulizes it, yeah."

  "You think I should cruise the honky-tonks the way you do?"

  "No. But I don't think it's healthy for you to spend ninety percent of your time cooped up in Bible study groups either."

  "I like doing church work."

  "At the exclusion of everything else?" Agitated, he raked his fingers through his hair. "All the work you do in the church is admirable. I'm not taking anything away from that. I just hate to see you shrivel up like an old lady long before your time. You're throwing your life away."

  "I'm not. I'm going to have a life with Hal."

  "Not if he goes off to Central America and gets himself killed!" He saw her face drain of color and softened his stance and his tone of voice. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get into all that."

  She accepted his apology graciously. "Hal's the real issue."

  "That's right." He clasped her hands. "Talk to him, Jenny."

  "I can't change his mind."

  "He has to listen to you. You're the woman he's going to marry."

  "Don't place so much confidence in me."

  "I won't hold you responsible for his decision, if that's what you mean. Just promise you'll try to convince him not to go."

  She glanced toward the kitchen. Through the windows she could see Hal and his parents still grouped around the table, deep in discussion. "I'll try."

  "Good." He squeezed her hands before releasing them.

  "Sarah said you're spending the night." For some reason she didn't want Cage to know it had been she who had pre­pared his room for the overnight stay, airing it out that after­noon and putting fresh linens on the bed. She wanted him to think his mother had gone to the trouble.

  "Yeah, I promised to be here for Hal's big send-off in the morning. I hope it never materializes."

  "Well, anyway, Sarah likes having you sleep at home now and then."

  He smiled ruefully and touched her cheek. "Ah, Jenny. You're such a diplomat. Mother issued the invitation and then told me to clear out all the football and basketball trophies from my bedroom while I was here. She said she was tired of dusting all that junk."

  Jenny swallowed a knot of emotion and her heart went out to Cage. Only a few weeks ago she and Sarah had carefully folded clean cloths around Hal's sports trophies and stored them in boxes in the attic. For twelve years it had been clear to Jenny which was the favored son. But Cage had no one to blame but himself. He had chosen a way of life his parents couldn't possibly approve of.

  "Good night, Cage." Jenny suddenly wished she could hold him. He often looked like he needed to be held, which was a ridiculous notion considering his reputation as the town stud. But was that kind of loving enough, even for someone as wild as Cage?

  "G'night."

  Reluctantly she left him alone and entered the house by the back door. Hal raised his eyes to her and indicated with his head that she should move behind his chair. He was listening attentively to what his father was saying about collecting a state-wide offering for the support of the refugees once they arrived in Texas.

  Jenny, standing behind Hal's chair, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned down to tuck his head beneath her chin. "Tired?" Hal asked her when Bob stopped speaking. The Hendrens beamed on them proudly.

  "A little."

  "Go on up to bed. You'll have to get up early in the morn­ing to wave me off."

  She sighed and laid her forehead on top of his head, not wanting his parents to see the despair on her face. "I won't sleep."

  "Take one of those sleeping pills the doctor prescribed for me," Sarah suggested. "They're so mild, one can't hurt you, and they do help me get my brain to slow down long enough to fall asleep."

  "Come on," Hal said, scraping his chair back, "I'll go up with you."
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  "Good night, Bob, Sarah," Jenny said listlessly.

  "Son, you didn't give us the name of the Mexican contact," Bob reminded Hal.

  "I'm not turning in yet. I'm coming right back. I won't be a minute."

  Together Jenny and Hal climbed the stairs. At the top, he paused outside his parents' bedroom. "Do you want that sleeping pill?"

  "I suppose so. I know I'll toss and turn all night."

  He left her and came back a few moments later with two small pink tablets lying in the palm of his hand. "The instruc­tions on the bottle said one or two. I think you should take two."

  They went into her bedroom and she turned on the bedside lamp. Cage was right. As soon as she had moved into the parsonage, this room had been outfitted to suit a princess. Un­fortunately, Jenny had had little choice in the decorating.

  Even a few years ago, when Sarah had suggested it was time for a change, the hated powder blue dotted swiss had been replaced with white eyelet. The room was too juvenile and frilly for Jenny's taste. But she wouldn't have hurt Sarah's feelings for the world. She only hoped that as soon as she and Hal were married, she would be allowed to decorate their bed­room suite. There had never been any mention of their moving to their own house because it was also understood that when Bob retired, Hal would assume his ministry.

  "Take your pills and put on your jammies. I'll wait to tuck you in." Jenny left Hal standing in the middle of the room and slipped into the bathroom, where she did as she was told, swallowing both capsules. But she didn't put on "jammies." She put on a nightgown she had surreptitiously bought in the hope that she would have an occasion like tonight to put it to use.

  She faced herself in the minor and made up her mind to take action as Cage had dared her to. She didn't want Hal to go. It was a dangerous, fool's mission. Even if it weren't, it was stalling their marriage plans again. Should any woman have to stand for that?

  Jenny had a premonition that her future hinged on tonight. She had to stop Hal from leaving or her life would be forever altered. She had to take the gamble; and the stakes were all or nothing. And she would use the oldest device known to woman to assure a victory.

  God had sanctioned Ruth's night with Boaz. Maybe this was another one of those times.

  But Ruth hadn't had a nightgown that slithered down her naked body, feeling sinfully slinky and sensuous against her skin. Straps as fine as violin strings held up a bodice that plunged down far between her breasts, showing the ample in­ner curves. The pearl-colored nightgown had a trim, body-hugging fit that didn't miss a single detail of her figure until it flared out slightly at her hips. Its fluted hem brushed her insteps.

  She misted herself with a flowery, light perfume and ran a brush through her hair. For a moment after she was ready, she closed her eyes and tried with all her might to gather the cour­age to open the door. She groped for the light-switch first, mapping it off before she eased the door open.

  "Jenny, don't forget to…"

  Whatever Hal had been about to say left his mind the instant he saw her. She was a vision, both ethereal and sensual, as she glided toward the door on bare feet and softly closed and locked it. The lamplight bathed her skin with a golden glow and cast the shadows of her legs against the sheer nightgown as she moved.

  "What are you… Where'd you get that, uh, gown?" Hal stammered.

  "I was saving it for a special occasion," she answered softly as she reached him. She laid her hands on his chest. "I guess this is it."

  He laughed uneasily. His arms went around her waist, but lightly. "Maybe you should have saved it until after we're married."

  "And when will that be?" She pressed her cheek to the open vee of his cotton shirt. He was dressed casually in jeans.

  "As soon as I get back. You know that. I've promised you."

  "You've promised before."

  "And you've always been so understanding," he said fer­vently. His lips moved in her hair and his hands smoothed her back. "This time I won't break the promise. When I come back—"

  "But that could take months."

  "Possibly," he said grimly, tilting her head back so he could see her face. "I'm sorry."

  "I don't want to wait that long, Hal."

  "What do you mean?"

  She took a step closer, matching her body to his in a way that made the pupils of his eyes contract as if too much light had been let in. "Love me."

  "I do, Jenny."

  "I mean…" She wet her lips and took the dive. "Hold me. Lie with me. Make love to me tonight."

  "Jenny," he groaned. "Why are you doing this?"

  "Because I'm desperate."

  "Not as desperate as you're making me."

  "I don't want you to go."

  "I have to."

  "Please stay."

  "I'm committed."

  "Marry me," she whispered against his throat.

  "I will, when this is over."

  "I need a pledge of your love."

  "You've got it."

  "Then show me. Love me tonight."

  "I can't. It wouldn't be right."

  "For me it would."

  "For neither of us."

  "We love each other."

  "So we have to make sacrifices for each other."

  "Don't you want me?"

  In spite of himself, Hal pulled her closer and pressed his mouth against her neck. "Yes, yes. Sometimes I daydream about what it will be like to share a bed with you and I… Yes, I want you, Jenny."

  He kissed her. His lips parted over hers as one hand slid down the curve of her hip. She responded, pressing closer, rubbing her thigh against his. His tongue barely breached the soft damp interior of her mouth before her tongue came out questing. He moaned again.

  "Please love me, Hal," she said, clutching at his shirt. "I need you tonight. I need to be held and petted, reassured that what we have is real, that you're coming back."

  "I am."

  "But you don't know for sure. I want to love you before you go." She covered his lips and face and neck with quick, fiery kisses. He edged away from her, but she wouldn't be stopped. Finally, he gripped her upper arms and pushed her away sternly.

  "Jenny, think!" She gaped at him wide-eyed as though she had been slapped. Gulping in air, she swallowed hard. "We can't. It would go against one of the principles we stand for. I'm going on a God-called mission tomorrow and I can't let you, beautiful and desirable as you are, distract me from that. Besides, my parents are right downstairs." He bent down and kissed her chastely on the cheek. "Now get into bed like a good girl."

  He led her to the bed and peeled back the covers. She obediently climbed in and he pulled the sheet over her, deter­minedly keeping his eyes off her breasts. "I'll see you early in the morning." His mouth touched hers softly. "I do love you, Jenny. That's why I won't do as you ask." He switched out the lamp, crossed to the door, and closed it behind him, plunging the room into total darkness.

  Jenny rolled to her side and began to cry. Tears, scalding and salty, rivered down her cheeks and into the pillowcase. Never had she felt so forsaken, not even when she had lost her family. She was alone, more dismally alone than she had ever been in her life.

  Even her bedroom seemed alien and unfamiliar. But maybe that was the effect of the sleeping pills. Through the darkness she tried to distinguish the shape of the furniture and the out­line of the windows, but everything was blurred around the edges. Her perception was dulled by the drug she had taken.

  She had the sensation of floating and drifted toward sleep, but a fresh batch of tears kept it at bay. How humiliating. She had gone against her own staunch moral code. She had offered herself to the man she loved. Hal vowed he loved her. But he had flatly and outrightly rejected her!

  Even if their love hadn't been consummated, he could have lain with her, held her, provided her with some evidence of the passion he claimed he felt, given her a shred of a memory to cling to while he was gone.

  But his rejection had been total. How low sh
e must be in the order of priorities of his life. He had more important things to do than love and comfort her.

  Then the bedroom door opened.

  Jenny turned toward the sound and tried to focus tear-laden eyes on the wedge of light that was cut into the consuming blackness. A man was silhouetted against the sudden bright­ness for only a second before he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

  Jenny sat up and stretched her hands out toward him, her heart leaping and racing with joy. "Hal!" she cried gladly.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  «^»

  He made his way toward the bed and sank down on the edge of it. His shadow was barely discernible against the others in the room.

  "You came back, you came back," Jenny repeated as she clasped his hands and raised them to her lips. She rained kisses across the ridges of his knuckles. "My heart was breaking. I need you tonight. Hold me." Her words broke into sobs and his arms encircled her with warmth. "Oh, yes, hold me tight."

  "Shh, shh."

  The sudden movement of sitting up, the few words she had spoken, taxed her dwindling, drug-affected co-ordination. Spent, she let her cheek fall into the cradle of his palm. His thumb stroked her cheekbones, sweeping off the tears. "Shh." When the tears were dried, she buried her face in the hollow between his shoulder and throat.

  He bent his head down over hers. His beard was rough against her temple. With mindless curiosity her hand inched up his chest to touch his face. She gently scratched her nails over the rasping stubble on his chin, accidentally glancing his lips with her fingertips.

  She heard him gasp. It seemed to come from far away, though she felt the quickening of his body. Uttering a low, rumbling sound deep in his chest, he tilted her head back and his mouth moved down to greet hers. His arms drew her pos­sessively against his chest. Head falling back in wanton of­fering, Jenny surrendered her last conscious thoughts and en­trusted herself only to sensual instinct.

  His lips parted. This time his hesitation was short-lived. A heartbeat ticked by, possibly two, before his tongue came swirling down into the sweetest depths of her mouth, touching secret places, stroking madly.