here’s the Big Dipper.” Dylan grasped Hope’s wrist and pointed to the night sky. “And there’s the Little Dipper.”

He’d been right about the sleeping bag. They were somehow managing. Cramped but comfy, the down bag provided just enough room for them to lie side by side. Except for their shoes, they were fully clothed in jeans and sweatshirts. Dylan told her she’d be grateful in the morning when she didn’t have to change into cold clothes. Since she’d never camped before, she took his word for it.

She lay with her head on Dylan’s shoulder, his body throwing off heat like a human furnace. He’d blown up an air mattress to lie beneath the bag, and although her nose was getting chilled, Hope had absolutely no complaints.

“There’s the North Star,” he said and slid their hands to the west. “And Cassiopeia.”

Hope had never been a constellation buff and had to take his word for that, too.

“She’s chained upside down in her throne and has to circle the heavens on her head.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “I’m glad you came here with me.”

“I’m glad you brought me.” Of all the wonderful places she’d been in her life, or could think of being in at the exact moment, none held the appeal of lying in a sleeping bag in the Idaho wilderness with Dylan Taber. The man she loved with her heart and soul.

He rose up onto his elbow, and she gazed into his dark face, outlined against a sky crammed with stars. “Hope?”

“What?”

“I want to tell you something.” He placed her palm against his cheek, rough with stubble. “In my life, I’ve been with women I didn’t care about and women I cared a great deal about. But I’ve never been with a woman who makes me feel the way you do.” He lowered his head and whispered against her lips, “Sometimes when I look at you, it’s hard to breathe. When you touch me, I don’t care about breathing.” He kissed her slow and sweet, and with each press of his lips and touch of his tongue, her heart swelled and ached. It was wonderful and awful and brand-new. Then he pulled back to say, “I don’t know how this is all going to work out, but I want to be with you. You are important to me.”

It wasn’t exactly a declaration of undying love, but it stung the backs of her eyes. She slid her hands under his sweatshirt and combed her fingers through the short, silky hair that grew on his chest. She felt the sharp intake of his breath and the heavy beat of his heart. “I want to be with you, too,” she said and her heart swelled yet again.

Then, with her body, she showed him without words how she felt. And through the tangle of their clothes and the cramped confines of the sleeping bag, he touched her as if he felt it, too. He caressed her as if she were fragile and very important to him. Beneath the shooting stars, he made love to her as if they were the only people on the planet. Beneath Cassiopeia, she felt as if she, too, were circling the heavens on her head.

She forgot all about bugs and beetles and lay wrapped up in the arms of the man she loved. And while that was incredibly scary, it was also incredible. For the first time since she’d driven into town, leaving wasn’t quite so clear. She wondered what she would do if he asked her to stay. She’d fallen in love with the sheriff of a town without a Nordstrom, a movie theater, or even a 7-11. She wondered how she would live without him if he didn’t ask her.

In the morning, he made her a dreadful breakfast of oatmeal and dehydrated eggs, which was only slightly better than the dinner of dehydrated stew he’d made the night before. He laughed and kissed the snarled part in her hair and called her high maintenance.

They repacked their backpacks and made it down the mountain in half the time it had taken them to hike up. When they got back to Dylan’s house around noon, they peeled off their clothes and fell into bed without even bothering to shower the trail dust off their skin.

Exhausted, Hope didn’t remember falling asleep before her eyes opened again. A bit disoriented at first, she glanced at the bedside table and recognized Dylan’s clock. Beneath the sheet, his chest was pressed to her back and his hand rested between her bare breasts. Through her thin, silky underwear, she felt his hot groin shoved against her behind. She figured his grasp must have awakened her. She could still smell the scent of Dylan’s cook stove in her hair and on their clothes, which lay in a heap next to his bed.

Her eyes drifted shut, then popped open again. She had a feeling like someone was watching her and raised herself onto her elbow. She glanced down at the end of the bed. Adam Taber’s big green eyes stared back at her. His face looked blank, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing.

“Dylan,” Hope whispered. “Wake up.”

His only response was to cup her breast and pull her tighter against his chest.

She took her gaze from Adam and glanced over her shoulder. She nudged his big chest with her elbow. “Dylan, wake up.”

“Hmm?” His lids fluttered open. “Honey, I’m too tired,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. But he wasn’t too tired to slide his hand down her stomach to her hip and back up again. “On second thought, I’m never too tired.”

“Dylan!” She grasped his hand through the sheet. “Adam’s home.”

“What?” The hair on his chest tickled her back as he lifted himself up and glanced toward the end of the bed. A prolonged silence filled the room as father and son stared at each other. “Adam,” he began slowly, then cleared his throat. “How did you get here?”

“Mom brung me.” Adam pointed to his left, and both Hope and Dylan shifted their gazes to the tall blonde leaning against the doorjamb. She wore leather pants the color of buttermilk and a silk blouse of the same color. She looked vaguely familiar, but Hope didn’t believe they’d ever met.

“I guess we should have called,” she said as she straightened. “I’ll just wait in the living room for you two to get dressed.” She held out her hand to Adam. “Come on. Let’s go wait for your daddy out here.”

Adam stared at his father and Hope for several seconds, then walked out of the room.

“Jeez-us,” Dylan swore as he fell back onto his pillow. He plowed his fingers through the sides of his hair and stared up at the ceiling. “What in the hell is he doing home? It’s not Sunday, and what is Julie doing here? This is messed up. This is a goddamn nightmare.”

Hope sat up and held the sheet to her chest. “What do you want me to do?”

“Did you see Adam’s face?” He sighed and covered his own face with his hands. “Hell if I know. Maybe he’ll think you came over and got so tired you just had to take a nap or something. Maybe you fell and hurt yourself and had to lie down.”

“Yeah, and you were just helping me out with a breast exam.”

He looked at her from between his fingers.

“Adam saw your hand moving around beneath the sheet. He’s not stupid. I don’t think he’ll fall for some lame story. Just tell him the truth.”

He lowered his hands. “Please don’t tell me how to talk to my son. I really hate it when people who don’t have children tell me what to do. I’ll decide what’s best for him, and I don’t think explaining my sex life with you is best for him right now.”

“Fine.” She threw off the sheet and rose from the bed. “Tell him whatever you want.” She shut the bedroom door, then picked up her clothes.

“Hope.”

She turned her back on him, stepped into her shorts, and buttoned them around her waist.

“Hope.” He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have said that about you not having children. I’m sorry.”

She grabbed her bra and turned to look up at him. He was sorry about the wrong thing. “I respect your moral position and raising your son by example. I really do.” She hooked her bra behind her back and adjusted the straps. “It must be very difficult, but I will not be your nasty secret.” She thought about the times he’d come to her house and parked his truck at Shelly’s. “I will not be something you lie or won’t talk about. I don’t want to live like that.”

“Okay.”

She reached for her shirt and he grabbed it from her hands. “We’ll work through this,” he said. “Somehow. But I’m warning you, Adam isn’t going to like what he saw today. He won’t make it easy for me or for you.” He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “That woman out there is his mama, and he has dreams of the three of us moving in together and living like a happy family. He’s been working on it—”

“Oh, my God,” Hope interrupted and grabbed his wrist. “Juliette Bancroft!”

“I wondered how long it would take you to recognize her.”

“Crap!” She patted her dusty hair. “I look like complete crap.”

Dylan handed her her shirt. “On your worst day, you’re prettier than Julie.”

Which was an outrageous lie but suddenly wasn’t her biggest worry. Now she remembered why the woman in the doorway had looked so familiar, and it wasn’t because of her television show, either. Hope had to get out of the house fast before Juliette remembered they’d met in Blaine’s office a few weeks before he’d served her with divorce papers. During the divorce, Hope had done a few things to get back at her ex-husband. One of them had involved a certain starlet and her secret breast implants.

While Dylan pulled on a pair of clean Levi’s and a T-shirt, Hope stuck her feet in her dirty socks and tied the laces of Shelly’s hiking boots. “I think it would be best if I just hurried up and left so the three of you can talk.”

“Probably, but I’ll take you home.”

“I can walk. It’s only about three miles and I jog more than that every day.”

“I’ll take you.”

“I want to walk. It’ll give me time to think. Really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

She walked slightly behind Dylan as they moved down the hall to the living room. Adam sat in a recliner, rocking so hard the springs squeaked and the back of the chair hit the wall, bam, squeak, bam. He leveled his angry eyes on Hope, and seeing all that pain directed at her bothered her more than she would have thought possible. It slid right next to her heart and lay there like a cold lump, and she wondered if they would ever be friends again. She switched her gaze to Juliette, who stood with her back to the room as if she didn’t hear a thing, looking at framed pictures of Adam and Dylan that were sitting on the television.

“Adam, stop that,” Dylan told his son. The chair crashed into the wall harder.

Juliette turned and looked at Dylan. “I always wondered what your house would look like. It reminds me of the house we used to live in when Adam was a baby.”

“You never liked that house,” he said and pointed a finger at his son. “Stop now.”

“That’s not really true.” Juliette’s gaze moved to Hope, and under normal circumstances, she would have been mortified by her appearance, especially compared to the perfect and beautiful Juliette Bancroft. Today, she just hoped the dirt in her hair and the spots on her shirt concealed her identity. “Adam didn’t mention that you had a girlfriend.”

“I’ll just be going now.” With a quick exit out the back door in mind, Hope sort of slid sideways across the room. “I’m sure you all have tons to talk about.”

The recliner slammed into the wall one last time and Dylan pulled his son out of the chair. “I’ll call you later. Say good-bye to Ms. Spencer, Adam,” he said.

Adam didn’t utter a sound, and Hope made it as far as the doorway to the kitchen when Juliette’s voice stopped her.

“Wait! I know who you are. You’re Dr. Spencer’s ex-wife.”

Hope closed her eyes. Crap!

“You work for The National Enquirer,” Juliette added.

Hope looked from the angry face of America’s favorite angel to Dylan. A frown furrowed his brow, and he stood frozen, holding Adam by one arm.

“No, I don’t work for the Enquirer,” she said.

“You were the unnamed source who leaked confidential and privileged information about Dr. Spencer’s patients.” Juliette’s voice rose and she pointed an accusing finger at Hope. “You told them about my goddamn boob job!” Hope was taken aback by the woman’s language. America certainly had never heard foul words pour from her perfect angelic lips. “He told me he couldn’t prove it, but he was certain it was you.”

Under the circumstances, Hope figured Juliette was justified in her anger, but not in front of Adam. “In my own defense,” she began, “Blaine was a pig, and I wanted to hurt him. I didn’t think about who might get hurt, but I’ve always felt really bad that I hurt other people as well. I’m sorry about what happened.”

Dylan finally let go of his son. “You’re a reporter for The National Enquirer?”

“No. About four years ago I was their unnamed source for a few inside stories, and then I did a few freelance articles on fashion blunders. That sort of thing, but I don’t do that now.”

“You write flora-and-fauna articles. Right?”

She didn’t want to tell him. Not like this. “Well, not exactly.”

“What do you write? Exactly.”

But she couldn’t lie anymore, either. Hope took a deep breath and said, “I’m a staff writer for The Weekly News of the Universe. I write Bigfoot and alien stories.”

He leaned his head back and looked at her through a narrowed gaze. “Adam, go to your room,” he ordered without taking his eyes from Hope.

“I don’t wanna go to my room.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I told you to go.”

As if his feet were made of lead, the boy slowly left the room. No one spoke until the door had shut behind him.

“So,” Dylan began, “the whole flora-and-fauna thing was complete bullshit. You write for a tabloid.”

“I don’t write gossip. I write alien stories,” she said and spread her arms wide. “That’s what I do.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you? After you’ve done nothing but lie about it since you drove into town? Christ! You must have had yourself a good old laugh yesterday when I was showing you all those flowers for your ‘article.’ ”

“I wasn’t laughing.”

“And the whole thing about Hiram Donnelly was bullshit, too, wasn’t it?”

“No, I plan to write that article. I never—”

“How did you find out about Adam?” he interrupted.

She didn’t know what he was asking.

“And how long before I get to read about my son in your paper?”

It took Hope a moment more before she understood exactly what he meant. The secret love child of America’s favorite angel would be big news. Huge. “I would never do that to Adam. I would never do that to you, and as hard as it might be for you to believe, I wouldn’t do that to Juliette, either.”

“You’re right, that’s hard for me to believe,” Juliette said.

Hope looked at the faces before her. Juliette didn’t even bother hiding her anger, and Dylan was becoming more remote as the seconds ticked past. “Who sent you here, Hope?”

“My paper, but not for the reason you’re thinking. They sent me here to take pictures and write articles. Right now I’m writing a series about a town filled with aliens.” She shook her head as her heart squeezed within her chest. “Just last week I used Eden Hansen. Her purple hair and eyeshadow, but I swear I didn’t know Juliette was Adam’s mother until two minutes ago. You have to believe me.”

“I don’t think I even know you.”

Hope covered her heart with her hand, as if she could protect herself from his cold gaze. As if she could protect her breaking heart. “When I first met you, I didn’t tell you what I do for a living because it was none of your business. After I got to know you, I didn’t know how to tell you I’d lied about it, and the time never seemed right.”

“I can think of a few times when you could have said something. Like any time between the Fourth and today would have been good.”

There was nothing she could say except, “You’re right, maybe I should have told you.”

“Yeah, maybe. The very first day you drove into town, I wondered what would bring a big-city girl to a wilderness town like Gospel. I guess I finally know, and it has nothing to do with Bigfoot or aliens or corrupt sheriffs. You found out about Adam and came here to snoop into our lives.”

“Do you really believe that?”

His mouth settled into a grim line and he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

“I told you I wouldn’t do that to you, and I won’t, but I guess you’ll believe me when you don’t read about it in the papers.” She looked at him one last time and walked out the door, passed the backpacks they’d leaned against the house before they’d raced inside and fallen into bed.

The Idaho sun burned her corneas and she shaded her eyes as she headed down Dylan’s driveway, passed a car she didn’t recognize, and went out into the street. She’d tried so hard not to fall in love with him. Deep down she’d known he would break her heart. And she’d been right.

From the moment Dylan had opened his eyes and glanced at Adam at the foot of his bed, his life had gone straight to hell.

“What do you think she’ll do?” Julie asked him.

“I don’t know what she’ll do,” he answered truthfully. He wanted to believe Hope. He wanted it real damn bad, but he didn’t. “We have to tell Adam we were never married. Before he hears about it from someone else.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if that could suppress the sudden pounding behind his eyes. He’d told Hope so much about his life. A tabloid reporter who’d lied to him. “He needs to be told before he walks into the M & S to buy a pack of gum and reads about it off a tabloid at the checkout counter.”

“Yes, I guess it’s time you told him. Do you suppose there is any chance your girlfriend won’t report this?”

He lowered his hand and looked at Julie. She was worried about her career. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought Adam home.”

“I know. Why?”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts and took a deep breath. “Well, remember when we were in the airport and I told you I needed to talk to you?”

He didn’t remember, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t mentioned it.

“You probably know I’ve been spending a lot of time with Gerard LaFollete,” she began, assuming he kept up with her business.

“No, I didn’t. Isn’t he a French actor?”

“Yes, and he asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

“What does Adam think of all this?”

“Well, I thought you could tell him.”

Of course she did. Dylan sat on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Under normal circumstances, he might not have minded the responsibility of telling Adam about his mama marrying the French dude. That would have made it easier for him to talk to Adam about Hope, but now he didn’t know if he had or wanted a relationship with her. He knew only two things for certain about Hope: one, she worked for a tabloid, and two, he loved being with her. The two shouldn’t have been mutually exclusive, but they were.

He looked up at Julie, standing there as if she expected that he would just naturally handle Adam for her. “No,” he said. “You’ll have to tell him.”

“I tried. Gerard met us last week so Adam could get to know him before I told Adam my plans. Well, Adam behaved so horribly I didn’t get the chance to talk to him about it. I tried to call you, but you were never home.” She sat in the rocker-recliner and shoved her hands between her knees. “He called Gerard the f-word.”

“Whoa! He called your boyfriend a fucker?”

“No. A fag.”

“Oh.” From what Dylan had seen of him on television, the guy did look like he had the potential to swing either way. The few times Dylan had spoken with Adam on the telephone, he’d sounded like he always did.

“I’ll talk to Adam about that, but you’re going to tell him about your marriage plans. Sounds to me, though, like he has a pretty good idea and that’s why he’s acting up.” He leaned back against the couch. “We’ll both tell him that we were never married. If we handle it right, I doubt it will be a traumatic deal for him. The timing could be better, but I don’t see that we have a choice.”

He shrugged; how much worse could it get? His son had been home less than an hour, he’d seen Dylan in bed with Hope, and he’d been yanked out of a chair and sent to his room. Things could only get better. “I’ll go get Adam from his room,” he said, but stopped by the bathroom first to down four aspirins.

Two hours later, he figured he should have just run his head through a wall, for all the good those aspirins did him.

From the back door he watched Julie’s rental car pull out of his driveway and head toward town. She hadn’t been able to get a flight out of Sun Valley until the next afternoon, and she’d just assumed she would be staying with him and Adam. After the past hours he’d spent with her, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d agree to let her stay with him. He’d called the Sandman and got her a room for the night. By morning, the whole town would know his business, but for once he didn’t care. If he had to spend any more time with Julie, he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t strangle her.

She’d totally crapped out on him, making it sound as if she would have married him if he’d ever asked her. He’d never asked her, because they’d talked about it and decided that a baby wasn’t a good enough reason to get married. They’d both decided that, not just him, because the truth was, if she’d felt strongly about it, he would have married her even knowing it would be a mistake.

He shut the back door and went in search of his son. He found him lying on his bed, crying into his pillow. One of his sneakers had disappeared, his socks were scrunched down around his ankles, and his shorts were twisted around his waist. He was a pitiful lump of misery.

“Are you hungry?” Dylan asked from the doorway.

“No.” Adam rolled onto his back, and his face was splotched from crying. “Why’s my backpack outside?”

“Hope and I hiked up to Sawtooth Lake.”

Adam looked across the room at his father. “She used my backpack?”

“Yes, she did.”

“I don’t want her to touch my stuff. I hate her.”

Dylan moved toward the bed. “Just a few weeks ago you liked her.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

Adam turned his face to the wall. “Before you guys were doing sex!”

About a year ago Dylan had explained most of the birds and the bees to Adam, but not the real embarrassing stuff. He thought about his response and chose his words carefully. “There is nothing wrong with what Hope and I were doing. We’re both adults and you weren’t even supposed to be here until Sunday.”

Adam sat up and his eyes got squinty. “You don’t have to do that any more ‘cause you got me. Let her find someone else to make her a baby.”

“What?” Dylan sat on the edge of the bed. “People don’t have sex just to make babies, Adam.”

“Uh-huh. That’s what you said. You said men put their penis in women to make babies.”

Okay, maybe he’d screwed up the whole birds-and-the-bees thing more than he thought. “Men want to make love to women even when they don’t want to make babies.”

“Why?”

“Because... well...” He didn’t know what to say, but he’d already messed up, so he figured he’d just muddle through with the truth. “Well, because it feels really good.”

“Like how?”

How did you explain sex to a seven-year-old kid? “Hmm... like when you finally scratch an itch that you’ve waited all day to scratch. Or when your feet are really cold and you slide into a warm tub and get all shivery,” he said and watched himself fall in his son’s eyes.

“Sick!”

“You’ll feel different about it in a few years.”

Adam shook his head. “No way.”

Dylan figured it was time to change the subject. “Why don’t you tell me about your trip?”

Adam looked as if he wasn’t going to let the subject drop, but he did. “It was okay.”

“Your mom said you met her boyfriend, Gerard.”

“He talked funny.”

“Your mom also said you called him a fag. That wasn’t very nice.”

“Why couldn’t Mom stay here?” Adam asked, obviously figuring it was time to change that subject, too. Dylan would let him, for now.

“There was no place for her to sleep.”

“She could sleep with you. Hope did.”

Yes, Hope certainly had, but truth be told, there had been very little sleeping. “That’s different. Your mom’s marrying that French dude.”

“Maybe you could marry her instead,” Adam suggested as he picked at the Band-Aid on his knee. “She said she would have married you if you’d asked her. So go ask her now.”

“Too late. She loves Gerard LaFollete.” Dylan patted his thigh and Adam crawled into his lap. “There are a lot of different reasons why people don’t get married, but just because your mom and I never got married doesn’t mean we don’t love you. Or,” he added, stretching the truth a bit, “that we don’t care about each other. I’ll always love your momma because she gave me you. And if I didn’t have you, I’d be real sad all the time.”

“Yeah.” Adam laid his head on Dylan’s shoulder. “I’m your little buddy.”

“Yep.” He wrapped his arms around his son and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me, too. Where’s Mandy?”

“The last time I saw your puppy, she was chasing your grandmother’s peacocks, and your grandmother was chasing her.”

Adam pulled back, his eyes bright. No one loved naughty-dog stories more than Adam. “Did Grandma catch her?”

“Nope, but maybe we should go get her.”

Adam nodded and laid his head again on Dylan’s shoulder.

“When Mom gets married, will my name be Adam LaFollete?”

“No, you’ll always be Adam Taber.”

“Good.”

Yeah, good. For the first time since Adam had walked in the door, things were looking better. The fact that he’d mentioned Julie’s marriage was a step in the right direction. Perhaps Adam was letting go of his dream of them all living together. Julie was free to live her life, and Dylan suddenly felt a lot freer to live his. Yeah, now that it was too late.

“And you’re not going to be doing sex any more with Hope, right?”

Maybe not so free after all. He didn’t know how to answer. He knew what Adam wanted to hear, but he couldn’t say it. It would be like taking a step back when he was finally moving forward. And the funny thing was, he hadn’t known how badly he wanted to move forward until he’d met Hope.

Sitting on his son’s bed, holding him tight, he felt more alone than he could ever remember feeling. Before Hope, he’d known he was lonely, but now he felt it more keenly than ever. Somehow she’d crawled inside him, and it was like she’d breathed new life into his lungs, made his blood and his juices flow again. And now that she was probably gone from his life, he just felt hollow.

“Let’s go get that dog of yours,” he said, because he just couldn’t tell Adam what he wanted to hear. Not yet. Not until he knew what he was going to do. Not until he figured out exactly what he felt about Hope and the whole screwed-up mess.

Hope wasn’t going to hide like she’d done something wrong. She wasn’t going to hide in her house, pacing the old wooden floors and running to the window every few minutes. At seven-forty-five that evening, she changed into her peach sundress, put on her makeup and took herself to dinner. Unfortunately, the fanciest establishment in town was the Cozy Corner Cafe.

Honky-tonk played on the jukebox, and the diner smelled exactly how it had the first time Hope had set foot inside. The dinner rush had died down and a couple with a baby occupied one booth, while three teenage girls sat at the counter laughing and smoking cigarettes.

Apparently, the Cozy Corner hadn’t heard of providing a smoke-free environment and wasn’t too concerned about underage smoking. But at least the girls didn’t have pink hair and safety pins in their faces.

Hope took a booth near the back and ordered a cheeseburger, no onions and extra mayo on the side, a large order of fries, no salt, and a chocolate shake. Maybe she could find comfort in comfort food.

Work had been out of the question, and she’d spent most of the day trying not to cry and wondering if it was really over between her and Dylan, wondering if she should call him and waiting for him to call her. She’d spent the day reliving all the time they’d spent together, especially the closeness of the night before. He cared about her; she’d heard it in his voice and felt it in the way he’d touched her.

She’d spent hours thinking she should go back to his house and make him listen to her, make him believe that she would never betray him. He had to believe her, but she supposed the only way he would know for certain was when no stories appeared about him or Adam or Julie.

She’d mopped her floors, done her laundry, and scrubbed the bathrooms. She’d taken a long bath, given herself a facial and a manicure, all in an effort to take her mind off Dylan. To take her mind off the cold, closed-up expression on his face as he’d told her he didn’t think he even knew her. Nothing had worked.

Paris Fernwood set Hope’s milkshake in front of her. As the waitress placed a long spoon and a straw on a napkin, Hope remembered her first day in town and her second encounter with Paris. She remembered the way Paris had looked at Dylan, her brown eyes melting and her harsh features softening. He’d lit her up from the inside out, and Hope wondered if she looked at him the same way, and if he noticed.

“Thank you,” Hope said, sliding the straw from its wrapper.

Without looking up, Paris muttered, “You’re welcome,” and walked away.

Pathetic, Hope thought as she watched the waitress move behind the counter and empty ashtrays. That was how she’d thought of Paris that first day. Now she understood a little bit better. Loving Dylan Taber wasn’t an easy thing to get over. Especially when she didn’t know if it was really over. She was in limbo, her heart not quite broken. Not yet. She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff and Dylan was the only one who could pull her back.

She stuck her straw into the shake and sucked up a big dose of chocolate ice cream. She’d placed her heart in his hands, and it was up to him to decide what he would do with it now.

Paris returned with Hope’s meal and tore the ticket from the little green book she kept in her apron pocket.

“Is there anything else you’re needin‘?” she asked as she plunked the ticket on the table.

“I don’t think so.” Everything appeared just as she’d ordered it. “Thanks.”

“Uh-huh.” Again Paris didn’t even look at Hope before she walked away.

Hope didn’t know what she’d ever done to the waitress, but it must have been a major offense. She poured ketchup onto her plate and dipped a few fries. They were hot and greasy and not quite as wonderful as she’d expected. She smeared extra mayonnaise on her cheeseburger. It wasn’t as wonderful, either, but she suspected it wasn’t the fault of the food. It was her mood. She wanted comfort, but food wasn’t going to be the answer.

Out of the corner of her eye a glimpse of red caught her attention and she glanced up at the woman standing by her table. She lifted her gaze up Ralph Lauren jeans and a red silk tank, but even with the brown chin-length wig and dark sunglasses, Hope immediately recognized Juliette Bancroft.

“If you don’t want to draw attention,” Hope said, “lose the sunglasses.”

Without asking if she wanted company, Juliette slid into the seat across from Hope. “Have you called Mike Walker?” she asked, referring to The National Enquirer’s infamous reporter. She reached for her sunglasses and tucked them into her purse.

“I told you, I don’t work for The National Enquirer.”

“I know. You work for The Weekly News of the Universe, which, the last time I checked, had a gossip section.”

“True.” Hope paused and ate a few more fries. “But we don’t pay reporters to look through your trash. Everything you read in our Hollywood gossip section is pretty much old news.”

Juliette grabbed a menu. “I’ve already talked to my agent,” she said as she looked it over. “He’s spoken with my publicist, who will issue a standard ‘No comment’ to the press until we feel the time is right for a statement.” She flipped the menu to the back.

“No one will hear a word from me.”

Juliette glanced up. “Because of Dylan?”

“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. “But even if I felt nothing for Dylan, I would never hurt Adam.”

“Dylan and I have talked to Adam, and I think he’ll be okay. I’m the one who will be hurt the most if the story gets out,” Juliette said.

“And me,” Hope added. “Dylan would never forgive me if he read the story in a tabloid.”

Paris set a glass of water on the table. “What can I get for you?” she asked.

“Is this bottled water?” Juliette wanted to know.

“Straight from the tap.”

Juliette pushed it aside. “Do you have anything low-cal?”

“Salad,” Paris answered.

“Fine. I’ll have a chicken salad with vinaigrette dressing.”

“Don’t have vinaigrette.”

“Then give me Thousand Island, but put it on the side. And I’ll have a Diet Coke, lots of ice.”

“Do you want that ice on the side?”

Surprised that Paris might actually be making a joke, Hope looked up at her, but by the extremely irritated expression on her face, it was very clear she wasn’t kidding.

“In the glass will be fine.” Juliette shook her head as Paris walked away. “I don’t know how anyone can stand to live here.”

“Actually, it grows on you,” Hope said and was surprised as much as Juliette by her statement.

“How long have you known Dylan?”

“Long enough.”

“It was a real shock to walk into his house today and find you in his bed.”

“It was a shock to wake up and find you in his house.”

A reluctant smile tilted the corners of Juliette’s red lips. “He must care about you.”

Hope took a drink of her milkshake. She didn’t know for certain how Dylan felt about her. Beyond telling her she was important to him, he’d never actually said. Now she might never know.

A local couple sat down in the booth behind Juliette and wanted a booster seat for their toddler. Paris brought it, and Hope was struck by how nice and chatty she was to them.

“You don’t look like the sort of woman I always pictured with Dylan,” Juliette said, drawing Hope’s attention away from the change in Paris.

“Why’s that?”

“I always knew he’d end up with a pretty woman, but I figured he’d want someone more... homespun, I guess.” Juliette tucked the brown wig hairs behind her ears, then laid her hands on the table. For the first time, Hope noticed the impressive diamond on her finger. “How much has Dylan told you about me?” she wanted to know.

“Not a lot. Just that you and he were never married and when he left, he took Adam with him,” Hope answered and figured she didn’t owe Juliette anything more.

“When Dylan left L.A., he took Adam because he is a wonderful father.” Juliette lowered her gaze to her hands. “People look at a woman differently if she gives up custody of her child, even if it is best for the child, like there is something wrong with her, like she has no heart. That’s just not true. I love my son, and I never meant to keep him a secret.”

Hope didn’t know what to say about that. She didn’t have children, would never have children, but she didn’t think she could give up custody no matter how wonderful the father.

“I’m only telling you this in case you go ahead with a story. I’m telling you so you know my side. I gave Dylan custody of Adam because Dylan is a good father and a good man. I gave him custody because I love them both.”

As Hope looked into the heavenly blue eyes of America’s favorite angel, she believed her. It didn’t matter if she understood Juliette Bancroft or even liked her. She was right. Dylan was a good father and a good man.

Even before she’d fallen in love, she’d made a connection, and for the first time in a very long time, she’d shared her life and dark, painful secrets. She’d shared with Dylan because she felt safe with him. She trusted him, and he’d trusted her enough to share his life with her, too.

But only to a certain point. She hadn’t told him the truth about what she really did for a living, and he’d lied to her about the woman sitting across the table. He’d told her Adam’s mom was a waitress. He hadn’t trusted her that far. She’d lied to him, and he’d lied to her. Perhaps not the best beginning for any relationship, but they could work through it.

Dylan was being a big hypocrite about it all now, but that would shortly change. When he realized she wasn’t a gossip reporter, he’d have to apologize. She’d forgive him, but she just hoped he didn’t wait too long. She wasn’t a patient woman.

And Adam. During the short time she’d been in Gospel, she’d come to care for him, and his anger hurt almost as much as his father’s.