ohn sat on the edge of his bed and shoved his feet into silver and blue cross-trainers. The room looked like a war zone. Sheets were knotted in the middle of the mattress, and the down comforter and pillows were thrown on the floor. Dirty plates with half-eaten ham sandwiches were stacked on his dresser, and the oil painting he’d purchased from a local artist lay propped against the wall, the frame broken.

He finished tying his shoe, then stood. The room smelled like her, like him—like sex. He stepped over a pile of damp towels and grabbed his Walkman from his dresser. He hooked the headphones around his neck and the tape player to the waistband of his shorts.

Wild. That was the only word he could think of to describe the night before. Wild sex with a beautiful wild woman. Life didn’t get much better.

Except there was a problem. Georgeanne wasn’t just any beautiful wild woman. She wasn’t someone he’d been dating. She wasn’t a girlfriend. And she certainly wasn’t one of those women who just wanted to get off with a hockey player. She was the mother of his child. Things were bound to get complicated.

He walked out into the hall. His feet stopped in front of the guest bedroom, and he paused at the half-open door and looked inside. Georgeanne’s eyes were closed against the dawn seeping through the curtains, and her breathing was slow and easy. She’d changed into a white nightgown that buttoned clear up to the base of her throat, like something out of Little House on the Prairie. But about four hours ago, she’d been bare-ass naked in his Jacuzzi in the master bathroom doing her best imitation of a rodeo queen. With a little practice, she’d gotten real good at it, too. He especially liked the way she rocked her pelvis against him while she whispered his name with that sexy southern voice of hers.

Movement behind Georgeanne caught his attention and he lifted his gaze to Lexie. He watched her turn on her side and take most of the sheet with her. He stepped back and headed up the stairs.

Last night she’d once again shown him a slice of her past, shed a brief light on a confused and hurt little girl, lit her up for him to see, and added another dimension to the way he saw her as an adult. He didn’t think she’d meant to change anything, certainly not his opinion of her. But she had just the same.

John walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He reached for a high-protein, high-carbohydrate yogurt shake. Closing the door with his foot, he popped the top to the quick-energy drink and pressed the rewind button on his answering machine. He turned up the volume, leaned one hip into the counter, and raised his breakfast to his lips. The first message was from Ernie, and while he listened to his grandfather’s usual gripe about having to leave a message, he thought of Georgeanne. He thought of her voice as she’d talked so casually about her mother. She’d joked about her grandmother trying to marry her off to a butcher at Piggly Wiggly, and she thought it was silly to expect her father’s love. She’d seemed embarrassed, as if she were expecting too much.

The answering machine beeped and the voice of his agent, Doug Hennessey, filled the kitchen, informing John of the meeting he’d set up with Bauer. He needed to sit down with the people who custom-made his skates and figure out why his boots had started to bother him last season. John had always worn Bauers. He always would. He wasn’t as superstitious as some guys he knew, but he was superstitious enough to fix the problem rather than change the manufacturer.

He chugged the rest of his yogurt drink, crunched the can in a tight grip, and tossed it into a garbage can. The answering machine clicked off, and John walked out of the kitchen. Mist clung to his deck and the beach below. Sparse morning rays penetrated the mist and shot shards of light though the living room windows.

Last night he’d watched her in those windows. He’d watched her clothes slip from her beautiful body, and he’d watched passion soften her mouth and drug her eyes. He’d watched his hands slide over her smooth skin, and his palms cup her soft breasts. He’d watched her rub her bare bottom up and down his fly, and he’d almost exploded right there in his B.V.D.s.

Quietly John moved from the house onto the deck. He jogged as lightly as possible down the steps to the beach. He didn’t want to wake Georgeanne. After the night before, he figured she probably needed her sleep.

He needed to think. He needed to think about what had happened, and he needed to think about what to do now. He couldn’t avoid Georgeanne, nor did he want to. He liked her. He respected her for everything she’d accomplished in her life, especially now that he understood her a little better. And now he had a better understanding of why she hadn’t told him about Lexie seven years ago. He couldn’t say he was exactly pleased that she hadn’t told him, but he wasn’t pissed off about it anymore.

But not being pissed off and being in love were worlds apart. He liked her. He hoped she didn’t want more because he was beginning to think he wasn’t capable of more. He’d been married twice and he’d never loved either woman.

People confused sex with love. John never did. The two were completely separate. He loved his grandfather. He loved his mother. The love he felt for his first child, Toby, and now Lexie, seeped to the marrow of his bones. But he’d never been in love with a woman, not the kind of love that made a man crazy. He hoped Georgeanne could keep sex and love separate. He thought she could, but if she couldn’t, then dealing with her was bound to get real difficult.

He should have kept his hands to himself last night, but where Georgeanne was concerned, he obviously had a hard time with what he should do. Wanting her had twisted him into knots, and sex had been pretty much inevitable anyway. He could tell himself to keep his hands to himself now, but he knew from experience that he probably wouldn’t. He didn’t have a very good track record with Georgeanne. She had a great body, and sex with her was better than it had been in a good long time.

John’s feet hit the wet sand, and he raised his left foot behind him. He grabbed his ankle and stretched his quadriceps.

Their relationship was already tenuous without adding further complications. She was the mother of his child, and he should try to keep his thoughts pure. He wouldn’t think about kissing her soft mouth as he slid deep inside her. He’d control himself. He was a disciplined athlete. He could do it.

And if he failed...

John lowered his foot and stretched his other leg. He wouldn’t fail. He wouldn’t even think about it. He wouldn’t think about dropping by her house a couple of times a week and sweet-talking her out of her clothes either.

Georgeanne covered a huge yawn as she poured milk over a bowl of Froot Loops. She pushed her hair behind one ear, walked across the kitchen, and set the cereal on the table.

“Where’s John?” Lexie asked as she picked up her spoon.

“I don’t know.” Georgeanne sat down in a chair across from her daughter and pulled the ends of her robe together. She put her elbows on the table and held her chin in her hands. She was dog-tired and her thigh muscles hurt. She hadn’t ached so much since that aerobics class she’d joined for three days last year.

“He’s probably runnin‘ again.” Lexie scooped up a spoonful of Froot Loops and shoved it into her mouth. She’d worn her hair in a braid to bed the night before, and now it looked fuzzy and stuck out around her head like a real thin Afro. A green O fell on her Princess Jasmine pajamas, and she tossed it back in her bowl.

“Probably,” Georgeanne answered, wondering why he needed to exercise after last night. They’d made love in several different locations, with the grand finale in the Jacuzzi. She’d soaped him up all over and kissed the places she rinsed. He’d paid her back by sucking drops of water from her skin. Overall, she’d say they both got a real thorough workout. She closed her eyes and thought of his strong arms and sculpted chest. She pictured herself pressed against his smooth back and muscular behind, her hands caressing his hard abdomen, and she felt her stomach go fuzzy.

“Maybe he’ll be back pretty soon,” Lexie said, crunching on her cereal.

Georgeanne opened her eyes. Her vision of John in the buff evaporated, replaced by her daughter eating with her mouth stuffed full of colorful O’s. “Please chew with your mouth closed,” she reminded Lexie automatically. As she looked into her daughter’s face, she felt shameless. Having such risqué thoughts in front of an innocent child was indecent, and somewhere in the world she was positive that it was considered a breach of etiquette to visualize a naked man before morning coffee.

Georgeanne walked back into the kitchen and reached into a cupboard to pull out a bag of Starbucks and a paper coffee filter. John had made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a very long time. He looked at her with hunger burning in his deep blue eyes and made her feel desired. He skimmed his fingers across her skin as if she were made of delicate silk and made her feel beautiful. Sex with John had been wonderful. Within his arms she’d turned into a woman who was confident of her own sexuality. For the first time since puberty, she felt comfortable with her body, and she felt sure of herself as a lover for the first time in her life.

But no matter how wonderful, sex with John had been a mistake. She’d known it as she’d stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom and he’d kissed her good night. She’d felt it in the empty pull of her heart. John didn’t love her, and she was surprised by how much that hurt.

She’d known from the beginning that he didn’t love her. He’d never said it or intimated in any way that he felt anything for her except lust. She didn’t blame him. Her pain was her fault and something she’d have to deal with on her own.

Georgeanne filled the water reservoir on the coffeemaker and pushed the on button. She leaned one hip against the counter and folded her arms beneath her breasts. She’d thought she could love him with her body but not her heart. Now all her illusions were gone, burned away in the light of morning. She’d always loved John. She could admit it to herself, but she didn’t know what to do about it. How could she see him on a regular basis and pretend she felt nothing more than mild friendship? She didn’t know how. She just knew she had to do it.

The telephone rang, startling Georgeanne. The answering machine beeped twice and clicked on. “Yeah, John,” a male voice said from the machine, “this is Kirk Schwartz. Sorry it took so long to get back to you. I’ve been out of the state on vacation for the past two weeks. Anyway, as per your request, I’ve got a copy of your daughter’s birth certificate in front of me. Her mother has listed the father as unknown.”

Everything inside of Georgeanne froze. She cut her gaze to the audiotape and watched it slowly turn. “If the mother is still willing to cooperate, then it won’t take much to get that changed. As far as visitation and custody, we’ll talk about your legal rights when you get back into town. The last time we spoke, I believe we decided that the best course of action at the present time is to keep the mother happy until we determine what to do legally. Uhh... I think the fact that you didn’t know about your daughter until recently, and that you make a substantial income and want to provide for her, puts you in a very good position here. You’ll probably be awarded the same custody as if there had been a divorce between you and the mother. We’ll discuss it at length when you get back into town. Talk to you then. ‘Bye.” The tape shut off and Georgeanne blinked. She turned to Lexie and watched her suck a Froot Loop off the back of her spoon hand.

The trembling began in Georgeanne’s chest and work its way outward. She raised a shaky hand and pressed her fingers to her lips. John had hired a lawyer. He’d said that he wouldn’t, but he’d obviously lied to her. He wanted Lexie, and Georgeanne had blithely given him what he wanted. She’d tried to put aside her misgivings and had allowed John the freedom to spend time with his daughter. She’d tried to disregard her own fears because she’d wanted to do what was right for her child.

“Hurry up and finish your cereal,” she said as she turned from the kitchen. She had to get away, get away from his house and from him.

Within ten minutes Georgeanne had changed her clothes, brushed her teeth and hair, and had thrown everything into the suitcases. Keep the mother happy... Georgeanne felt sick when she thought about how happy he’d made her last night. Sleeping with her had gone above the call of duty.

After another five minutes she had the car loaded. “Come on, Lexie,” she called out as she walked back into the house. She wanted to be gone by the time John returned. She didn’t want a confrontation. She didn’t trust herself. She’d been nice. She’d tried to be fair, but no more. Her anger fueled her like a gas line to a blowtorch. She let it burn uncontrolled through her veins. It was better to feel the rage than the humiliation and soul-numbing hurt.

Lexie walked out of the kitchen, still wearing her purple pajamas. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Home.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s time to go.”

“Is John coming, too?”

“No.”

“I don’t want to go yet.”

Georgeanne opened the front door. “That’s too dang bad.”

Lexie frowned and stomped out of the house. “It’s not Saturday yet,” she pouted as they headed down the sidewalk. “You said we were staying till Saturday.”

“There’s been a change of plans. We’re going home early.” She belted her into the passenger seat, then laid a shirt, shorts, and hairbrush in her lap. “Once we’re on the highway, you can change your clothes,” she explained as she got behind the wheel. She stared the car and put it in reverse.

“I forgot my Skipper in the bathtub.”

Georgeanne stepped on the brakes and looked over at a sullen Lexie. She knew if she didn’t go back in and get the Skipper, Lexie would worry and fret and talk about it all the way back to Seattle. “Which one?”

“The one Mae gave me for my birthday.”

“Which bathtub?”

“The one by the kitchen.”

Georgeanne shoved the car back into park and got out. “The engine is on, so don’t touch anything.”

Lexie’s shrug was noncommittal.

For the first time since childhood, Georgeanne ran. She ran back into the house and into the bathroom. The Skipper doll sat in the soap dish stuck to the tiled wall, and she grabbed it by the legs. She turned around and almost collided with John. He stood in the doorway with his hands planted on the wooden frame.

“What’s going on, Georgeanne?”

Her heart twisted in her chest. She hated him. She hated herself. For the second time in her life, she’d let him use her. For the second time, he’d caused her such pain she could barely breathe. “Get out of my way, John.”

“Where’s Lexie?”

“In the car. We’re not staying.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because of you.” She placed her hands on his chest and shoved.

He moved, but she didn’t get very far before he grabbed her arm and stopped her from opening the front door. “Do you act this way with the other guys you sleep with, or did I just luck out?”

Georgeanne whirled around and lashed out at him with her only weapon. She whacked him on the shoulder with the wet Skipper doll. The doll’s head popped off and flew into the living room. Her rage boiled beneath the surface, and she felt as if her head were about to pop off just like poor Skipper.

John looked from the headless doll in her hand to her face. His brows were raised. “What’s your problem?”

Inbred southern grace, Miss Virdie’s charm lessons, and years of her grandmother’s polite and proper influence turned to ashes within the inferno of her anger. “Get your slimy hand off of me, you immoral son of a bitch!”

His grip tightened and his eyes bored into hers. “Last night you didn’t think I was slimy. I may be a son of a bitch, but not for what we did together. Last night you were hot, I was hard, and we took care of it. It may not have been the wisest choice either of us has ever made, but it happened. Now, deal with it like an adult, for Christ’s sake.”

Georgeanne yanked her arm from his grasp and stepped back. She wished she were big and strong and could hit him really hard. She wished she were quick with cutting words and could slice his heart. But she was neither physically strong or quick under pressure. “You made sure I was real happy last night, didn’t you?”

He blinked. “ ‘Happy’ is as good a word as any, I guess. Although I’d use ‘sated,’ but if you want to use ‘happy,’ that’s fine by me. You were happy. I was happy. We were both pretty goddamn happy.”

She pointed the headless Skipper at him. “You sneaky bastard. You used me.”

“Yeah, when was that? When your tongue was down my throat or when your hand was down my pants? The way I see it, there was some pretty mutual using going on.”

Georgeanne glared at him through her red haze. They weren’t talking about the same thing, yet it was all tied together. “You lied to me.”

“About what?”

Instead of giving him the opportunity to lie again, Georgeanne marched into the kitchen and rewound his answering machine. Then she hit the play button and watched John’s face as his attorney’s voice filled the silent room. His features gave nothing away.

“You’re making too big a deal out of this,” he said as soon as the tape clicked off. “It’s not what you think.”

“Is that your lawyer?”

“Yes.”

“Then any further contact between us will take place through attorneys.” She was deadly calm when she said, “Stay away from Lexie.”

“Not a chance.” He towered over her. A big, powerful man used to getting his way by the sheer force of his will.

Georgeanne wasn’t intimidated. “You have no place in our lives.”

“I’m Lexie’s father, not some made-up asshole named Tony. You’ve lied to her about me all of her life. Now it’s time she knew the truth. Whatever problems we have between us doesn’t change the fact that Lexie is my little girl.”

“She doesn’t need you.”

“Like hell.”

“I won’t let you near her.”

“You can’t stop me.”

She knew that he was probably right. But she also knew that she would do anything and everything to make sure she didn’t lose her daughter. “Stay away,” she warned one last time, then turned to leave. Her steps faltered.

Lexie stood in the doorway to the kitchen. She was still dressed in her pajamas and her hair still stuck up around her head. Her gaze was locked on John as if she’d never seen him before. Georgeanne didn’t know how long Lexie had been there, but she feared what she might have heard. She grabbed Lexie’s hand and dragged her from the house.

“Don’t do this, Georgeanne,” John called after her. “We can work this out.” But she didn’t turn back. She’d given him far too much already. She’d given him her heart, her soul, and her trust. She wouldn’t give him the most important thing in her life. She could live without her heart, but she couldn’t live without Lexie.

Mae picked up the newspaper on Georgeanne’s porch, then walked into the house. Lexie sat on the couch with a raspberry-and-cream-cheese muffin in her hand while the television blared the theme song to The Brady Bunch. Raspberry-and-cream-cheese muffins were Lexie’s favorite and an obvious attempt to soothe the ouchie with sugar. But after what Georgeanne had told her when she’d phoned the night before, Mae wasn’t sure a gooey muffin would make everything all better.

“Where’s your mom?” Mae asked as she tossed the newspaper on a chair.

“Outside,” Lexie answered without taking her eyes from the screen.

Mae decided to leave Lexie alone for now and stepped into the kitchen to make herself a cup of espresso. Then she headed out back and found Georgeanne standing beside the brick porch pruning her Albertine roses and tossing the dead flowers into a wheelbarrow. For the last three years, Mae had watched Georgeanne diligently coax the tangerine roses up the pergola framing her back door. A profusion of pink foxglove and lavender delphinium crowded flower beds at Georgeanne’s feet and crammed the garden along the fence. Morning dew clung to the delicate petals and wet the bottom half of Georgeanne’s robe. Beneath the orange silk, she wore a wrinkled T-shirt and a pair of white cotton panties. Her hair hung from a ratted ponytail and the mauve fingernail polish on her right hand was badly chipped as if Georgeanne had picked at it. The situation with Lexie was worse than Mae had thought.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Mae asked from her position on the last step.

Georgeanne shook her head and reached for another wilted rose. “Lexie won’t talk to me. She wouldn’t talk to me yesterday on the drive home, and she won’t talk to me today. She didn’t drift off to sleep until around two a.m.” She tossed another rose into the wheelbarrow. “What’s she doing in there?”

“Watching The Brady Bunch,” Mae answered as she moved across the brick patio. She set her coffee on a wrought-iron table and sat in a matching chair. “When you called last night, you didn’t tell me she was so upset that she couldn’t sleep. That’s not like her at all.”

Georgeanne dropped her hands and looked over her shoulder. “I told you she wasn’t talking. That’s not at all like her either.” She walked toward Mae and set her pruning shears on the table. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she just ignores me. At first I thought that she might be angry because she was having so much fun at the beach and I made her leave. Now I know that was just wishful thinking on my part. She must have heard John and me arguing.” Georgeanne sank down on the chair beside Mae, a ratty lump of misery. “She knows I lied to her about her father.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I have to make an appointment to talk to a lawyer.” She yawned and propped her chin on her fists. “I don’t know who yet, or where I’m going to get the money for the legal fees.”

“Maybe John won’t really go through with custody. Maybe if you talk to him, he—”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Georgeanne interrupted, suddenly alive. She sat up straight in her chair and her eyes narrowed. “He’s a liar and a sneak, and he has no principles at all. He played on my weakness. I should have had sex years ago. I should have listened to you. You were right. I just kind of exploded and became a nymphomaniac. I guess sex isn’t the sort of thing you should put off until you explode.”

Mae felt her jaw drop. “Get out!”

“Oh, I’m out. I’m way out.”

“With the hockey player?”

Georgeanne nodded.

“Again?”

“You’d think I’d have learned the first time.”

Mae didn’t know what to say. Georgeanne was one of the most sexually repressed women she knew. “How’d that happen?”

“I don’t know. We were getting along and it just did.”

Mae didn’t consider herself promiscuous. She just didn’t always say no when she should. By contrast, Georgeanne always said no.

“He tricked me. He was nice and so good with Lexie and I forgot. Well, I didn’t really forget what a jerk he could be, I just sort of let myself forgive.”

Mae didn’t believe in forgiving and forgetting. She liked the Old Testament wrath-of-God stuff and believed in an eye for an eye. But she could see how a good-looking guy like John could make a woman overlook a few things—like being dumped at an airport after a one-night stand—if the woman was attracted to two-hundred pounds of solid muscle, which, of course, Mae was not.

“He didn’t have to go that far. I was giving him everything he asked for. Each time he wanted to see Lexie, I arranged it.” Anger mixed with the tears in Georgeanne’s eyes. “He didn’t have to sleep with me. I’m not a charity case.”

Even on her worst hair day, with dark circles and chipped nails, Mae really didn’t believe any man would consider Georgeanne a charity case. “Do you really believe he made love to you because he felt sorry for you?”

Georgeanne shrugged. “I don’t think it was a real hardship for him, but I know he wanted to keep me happy until he and his lawyer could get together and decide what to do about getting custody of Lexie.” She covered her cheeks with her palms. “It’s so humiliating.”

“What can I do to help?” Mae leaned forward and laid her hand on Georgeanne’s shoulder. She would take on the world for the people she loved. There were times in her life when she’d felt as if she had. Not so much anymore, but when Ray had been alive, she’d fought both their battles, especially in high school when big, athletic guys had thought it funny to beat him with wet towels. Ray had hated PE, but Mae had hated the jocks who ruled gym class. “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to talk to Lexie?”

Georgeanne shook her head. “I think Lexie needs time to sort everything out in her mind.”

“Do you want me to talk to John? I could tell him how you feel and maybe—”

“No.” She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I don’t want him to know how badly he’s hurt me again.”

“I could hire someone to break his knees.”

Georgeanne paused before she said, “No. We don’t have enough money to hire a professional hit man, and it’s so hard to find good help without ready cash. Look what happened to Tonya Harding. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Ahh... what are friends for?”

“I’ve been through this heartache once before with John. Of course, Lexie wasn’t an issue then, but I’ll get through it again. I don’t know how yet, but I will.” Georgeanne pulled her robe securely around her and frowned. “And then there’s Charles. What am I going to tell him?”

Mae reached for her espresso. “Absolutely nothing,” she answered, then took a sip.

“You think I should lie?”

“No. Just don’t tell him.”

“What do I say if he asks?”

She set her coffee back on the table. “That depends on how much you like him.”

“I really like Charles. I know it doesn’t appear that way, but I do.”

“Then lie.”

Georgeanne shoulders sagged and she sighed. “I feel so guilty. I can’t believe I jumped in bed with John. I didn’t even think about Charles. Maybe I’m one of those women you read about in Cosmo who screw up relationships because deep down I don’t think I’m worthy. Maybe I’m destined to love men who can’t love me back.”

“Maybe you should stop reading Cosmo.”

Georgeanne shook her head. “I’ve made such a mess of things. What am I going to do?”

“You’ll get through it. You’re one of the strongest women I know.” Mae patted Georgeanne’s shoulder. She had a lot of faith in Georgeanne’s strength and determination. She knew that her friend didn’t always see herself as a woman with grit, but then Georgeanne didn’t always view herself in an accurate or objective light. “Hey, did I tell you that Hugh, the goalie, called me while you were in Oregon?”

“John’s friend? Why?”

“He wanted to go out on a date.”

Georgeanne stared at Mae for several incredulous moments. “I thought you made your feelings clear the day you ran into him outside the hospital.”

“I did, but he asked again.”

“Really? That beats all with a stick.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Well, I hope you let him down gently.”

“I did.”

“What did you say?”

“Hell, no.”

Normally Georgeanne and Mae would have debated Mae’s rude rejection. Instead Georgeanne shrugged and said, “Well, I guess you won’t have to worry that he’ll call a second time.”

“He did call a second time, but I think he just wanted to annoy me. He called to ask me if I was still wrestling pit bulls.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. I hung up on him, and he’s only called once since then.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s best just to stay away from all hockey players. Best for the both of us.”

“That’s not a problem for me.” Mae thought of telling Georgeanne about her latest boyfriend, but she decided against it. He was married, and Georgeanne tended to moralize about stuff like that. But Mae felt no qualms about sleeping with another woman’s husband as long as he didn’t have children. She didn’t want marriage. She didn’t want to look at the guy’s face over dinner every night. She didn’t want to do his laundry or birth his babies. She just wanted sex, and married men were perfect. She got to call all the shots and controlled when, where, and how often.

She never told Georgeanne how often she dated married men. Even though Georgeanne apparently had a carnal weakness when it came to John Kowalsky, she could be such a prude sometimes.